Captain Ahab
Well-known member
April fools day started out warm and misty, the way I start most days, so I knew it was going to be good. Hooked up with a buddy (Jeff) from Quakertown, PA who is a hardcore river rat. This guy is crazed for river fishing, making me look like a rank novice – but that is my claim to fame.
Jeff spends his spare time (which means time not spent fishing) combing the river for driftwood and other interesting finds. He spends nights (again, when not Walleye fishing) using a high powered spotlight to find fish in various drop off and holes on and near the river. He has an encyclopedia like memory of each location in the Delaware river, often asking me to stop so he can describe, in detail, a nearby hole where he spotlight a giant walleye in 1978. The fish and holes are long gone, but are still obviously etched in Jeff’s memory.
Of course, as I quickly realized, devoting 90% of your brain to memorizing various obscure river locations leaves little room for anything else. On this particular day Jeff forgot his camera and sunglasses. He also needed to re-stock some of his baits so we made a quick stop at a local tackle store.
Being a wise and prudent person I refrained from entering this establishment, not because I have an aversion to tackle shops, but because I do not. Every time I enter a tackle shop I get an immediate sense of need – need for a chartreuse colored spinner bait, a rainbow trout pattern offshore tuna size rattle trap and a triple bladed buzz jerk bait that I have never before set eyes upon. Further, I feel that it is very rude to merely peruse the aisles without buying something, kinda like the price of admission.
So, to avoid these needs I waited outside, lurking in the doorway and feeling much like a teenager waiting outside a liquor store looking for someone of legal age to purchase a bottle for him. Several customers came in and out and I eyed their purchases judicially. The fellow in the knee high waders was obviously a trout purest, he carried only a tiny package that I knew contained various flies. The older gentlemen came out with a larger package and hurried past giving me the hairy eyeball and tightly clutching his bag of fishing goodies. Hmm, I mused, I could just stand here and try to beg lures from the unwary. I left before I could put that plan into action.
We hit the river on the New Jersey side and poked around a likely winter Smallmouth spot. I started with a PC Baits black and blue jig with a fluke trailer. Jeff was using a jig with a twin tailed frog trailer. (I guess that would be a twin legged frog trailer???). After a few short moves I found a deeper section with a downed tree submerged across the shoreline side. I pointed this nice feature out to Jeff who could not see the tree because he did not have sunglasses. He got busy studying some interesting driftwood and moved off. I switched baits to one of my needle worms T-rigged with a bullet weight. On the third or fourth cast I managed to get the bait under the tree trunk in about ten feet of water. I felt a tick as I was reeling in, A FISH!
I missed that first pickup but knew that this spot held fish. A few cast later my line moved off and I reared back and set the hook into a feisty Smallmouth bass. Jeff came over during the short battle and asked it felt picture worthy. “Heck yes” I exclaimed, “this is my first smallmouth of 2008.” I successfully landed the golden bronze colored fish and posed for a few pictures.
A short while later I heard a splash and looked downstream to see Jeff reeling in a larger smallmouth, the tiger striped sides flashing in the soft sunlight. He poses and I get the privilege of becoming his official fish photographer..
We fish this area for another hour in silence, each concentrating on finding the next fish. Our efforts fail to bear fruit (or fish) and we eventually make our way back across the bridge and set up at a new spot. Jeff gets a call on his cell phone and spends the next long minutes in conversation, I work my way down the bank, slowly dragging my bait across the rocky bottom and losing a few rigs. By the time he ends the call I am few hundred yards away. I hear a yell and Jeff is battling another smallmouth. He lands then lips the fish and come trotting down the bank for yet another photo session. I contemplate giving up fishing and working on a business wherein I follow Jeff around taking pictures of his fish. Did I mention that Jeff, the man who has every stupid rock location memorized, could not remember his camera? Did I also mention that he caught the fish while on the phone?
The rest of the afternoon is spent searching for the next fish – which we never found. Still, got my first smallie and there will be many more to come, I hope.
Jeff spends his spare time (which means time not spent fishing) combing the river for driftwood and other interesting finds. He spends nights (again, when not Walleye fishing) using a high powered spotlight to find fish in various drop off and holes on and near the river. He has an encyclopedia like memory of each location in the Delaware river, often asking me to stop so he can describe, in detail, a nearby hole where he spotlight a giant walleye in 1978. The fish and holes are long gone, but are still obviously etched in Jeff’s memory.
Of course, as I quickly realized, devoting 90% of your brain to memorizing various obscure river locations leaves little room for anything else. On this particular day Jeff forgot his camera and sunglasses. He also needed to re-stock some of his baits so we made a quick stop at a local tackle store.
Being a wise and prudent person I refrained from entering this establishment, not because I have an aversion to tackle shops, but because I do not. Every time I enter a tackle shop I get an immediate sense of need – need for a chartreuse colored spinner bait, a rainbow trout pattern offshore tuna size rattle trap and a triple bladed buzz jerk bait that I have never before set eyes upon. Further, I feel that it is very rude to merely peruse the aisles without buying something, kinda like the price of admission.
So, to avoid these needs I waited outside, lurking in the doorway and feeling much like a teenager waiting outside a liquor store looking for someone of legal age to purchase a bottle for him. Several customers came in and out and I eyed their purchases judicially. The fellow in the knee high waders was obviously a trout purest, he carried only a tiny package that I knew contained various flies. The older gentlemen came out with a larger package and hurried past giving me the hairy eyeball and tightly clutching his bag of fishing goodies. Hmm, I mused, I could just stand here and try to beg lures from the unwary. I left before I could put that plan into action.
We hit the river on the New Jersey side and poked around a likely winter Smallmouth spot. I started with a PC Baits black and blue jig with a fluke trailer. Jeff was using a jig with a twin tailed frog trailer. (I guess that would be a twin legged frog trailer???). After a few short moves I found a deeper section with a downed tree submerged across the shoreline side. I pointed this nice feature out to Jeff who could not see the tree because he did not have sunglasses. He got busy studying some interesting driftwood and moved off. I switched baits to one of my needle worms T-rigged with a bullet weight. On the third or fourth cast I managed to get the bait under the tree trunk in about ten feet of water. I felt a tick as I was reeling in, A FISH!
I missed that first pickup but knew that this spot held fish. A few cast later my line moved off and I reared back and set the hook into a feisty Smallmouth bass. Jeff came over during the short battle and asked it felt picture worthy. “Heck yes” I exclaimed, “this is my first smallmouth of 2008.” I successfully landed the golden bronze colored fish and posed for a few pictures.
A short while later I heard a splash and looked downstream to see Jeff reeling in a larger smallmouth, the tiger striped sides flashing in the soft sunlight. He poses and I get the privilege of becoming his official fish photographer..
We fish this area for another hour in silence, each concentrating on finding the next fish. Our efforts fail to bear fruit (or fish) and we eventually make our way back across the bridge and set up at a new spot. Jeff gets a call on his cell phone and spends the next long minutes in conversation, I work my way down the bank, slowly dragging my bait across the rocky bottom and losing a few rigs. By the time he ends the call I am few hundred yards away. I hear a yell and Jeff is battling another smallmouth. He lands then lips the fish and come trotting down the bank for yet another photo session. I contemplate giving up fishing and working on a business wherein I follow Jeff around taking pictures of his fish. Did I mention that Jeff, the man who has every stupid rock location memorized, could not remember his camera? Did I also mention that he caught the fish while on the phone?
The rest of the afternoon is spent searching for the next fish – which we never found. Still, got my first smallie and there will be many more to come, I hope.
