Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Livy and I go Bass Fishing

There is a lake not too far from here where there are a lot of bass. They aren't big bass but there are a lot of them. this is the lake where I finally learned how to catch bass on the spawn. Bass spawn each spring. The males go up into the sandy shallows and make nests, divots in the shallows and then hang out at the nests waiting to attract a female to his handiwork. If a female comes and they leave fertilized eggs then the male hangs out for a while to protect the nest. Kind of like salmon coming back to the rivers in fall, this makes the bass a touch easier to find. Unlike the salmon in fall, the bass become highly aggressive and well, chompy if you will.

The differences between bass and trout or salmon are as bountiful as the day is long. Bass like warmwater, trout like cold. Bass spawn in stillwater, trout need the flow of a stream. Bass are bony, spiny and built like a British bulldog. Trout are elegant and beautiful. The thing that makes bass fun to catch is that they can be aggressive and fight like demons when hooked.

The general procedure to catch the durn things is to take something big, noisy and borderline outlandish, throw it as close to the bank as you can and retrieve in as obnoxious a manner as possible. This sounded right up Livy's alley (plus she needs more practice casting) so I asked her to come along. She is turning out to be quite the consistently happy fishing partner. She doesn't complain hardly at all, loves casting, catching and fighting fish and most importantly brings a smile to her Daddy's face.

After listening to Livy's ipod on the way there (two renditions of Skater Boy at least) we dropped the boat in the water and did some pre-salmon fishing testing by firing up the gas motor. She took on the first try and cried out joyfully and Livy and I flew across the lake to the sunken logs and reeds where the bass live. I hooked Livy up with a small sinking Rapala and gave her instructions to cast towards shore and retrieve. We anchored off of a big spruce tree and started casting.

I had brought along Mikayla armed with a couple of bass poppers. Bass poppers are a special type of fly used for bass. In the finest fly tying tradition they are carefully crafted to look exactly like aliens complete with buggy eyes and tentacles. You drop them with an audible plop and jerk them back, usually creating more audible plops and generally making as much commotion as you can. It's a very delicate business, this fly fishing for bass.

Livy was casting parallel with shore and not terribly close to the bass but she was casting well and it was good to see practice. Her lack of patience makes casting and retrieving a lot of fun and before I know it she's hooked a fish. Not a bass but a wild cutthroat that probably made its way out of the beaver ponds further West and through the weeds into the lake to feed. His teeth are sharp and his body snakey, like he ran hungry during the winter. We let him go, Livy's smile cut into my memory like a needle into a gold record.

Later I'd catch a couple of small bass on the popper. Proof positive that they eat aliens on a regular basis. We'd run the boat fast back to the ramp and listen to "Gold Lion" and "Cruella Deville" cranking on the radio.

I love bass fishing....

Thursday, May 14, 2009

Better than Steelhead!

Livy has been my faithful companion through two fruitless fishing trips to a lowland lake in south Thurston county. The late winter kept the water too cold for the bite to come on and she toughed it out with me without a complaint. She's turning into a tough little fisher!

So a couple of weekends ago when the sun finally came out long enough for me to leave a sweatshirt at home we ran over to another lake and dropped the boat in. On the way there I asked her how many fish we would catch. "Seven!" she said. I asked her what if we catch more than that? "Maybe ten but I think seven."

I had just put new trolling motor alligator terminals (and a jack stand) on the Critter Getter so the trolling motor was pulling a nice steady current against the battery. Livy trolled a dick nite spoon, copper dipped in pink on the back. I trolled a small silver wiggle wart, an experiment for hatchery trout. Half way across the lake Livy took the first fish. A small, typical, 7in hatchery rainbow. We dropped it in our 5lb bucket and ate some gummy worms. Three fish later we were feeling pretty good, each of us had two of the hatchery rainbows in the bucket and so I decided to run the boat up the NE side of the lake where things turned a little swampy. That's when Livy looked up and said, nonchalantly, "I got one."

I smiled and started reeling in my wiggle wart when she mentioned that it felt like a big one and I looked over to see her rod bent double and heard the reel crying as the fish took line. I looked up and saw her fish jump. Hatchery trout are usually small rainbows. They're cloned, a bit dumb and don't fight that hard. They're fun for the kids and we usually smoke them if we keep them. The state stocks some larger ones here and there and once in a while you run into a "hold-over", a fish that survived last year's season to grow semi-wild over a hard winter.

I don't know if Giant (as Livy later named him) was a bigger stocker or a hold over but when he jumped my jaw dropped. Livy tried to reel in against the drag and I tried to stay calm while telling her that when the fish is taking line you should just let him run. My wiggle wart retrieved I killed the motor and turned the Critter Getter broadside to where the fish ran. Livy started retrieving line and as soon as the fish got close he ran again, 30 yards of line easily came off the reel and Livy calmly let him run. Twice again the fish saw the boat and panicked until tired and exhausted. Livy lifted her rod and I scooped him up in the net, terrified of losing her great catch.

She was proud and excited! Her fish was more than twice the length of any of the others that we caught, a good solid 17 inches long and FAT. From top to bottom he was as tall as my hand. My heart swelled with happiness for my oldest daughter who played a big trout with as much skill and excitement that I dream about when fishing for steelhead. I would trade this moment for all of the rest of the steelhead I may have had the chance to catch in my life.

As we left the lake after a couple more hours of fishing we peered into the 5 gallon bucket. Giant curled around the outside and six more smaller fish floated within. "See Dad, I was right, we caught seven!". That night we brined the six smaller fish for smoking and cooked Giant and some rice to feed the whole family.
From Drop Box

From Drop Box

From Drop Box



Life is sweet.