June 26th, 2011:

June 26th, 2011:

Lake George
Adirondack Mountains
Lake Trout

Every once in awhile we experience something in life that engulfs our beings and leaves us awestruck. This outing to Lake George was one of those occasions. It is difficult to put into words just how blown away the mind was left.

Like a honey bee, these writings buzz around from experience to experience bringing back little morsels of nectar to put down onto paper. Today the bee is coming back with an entire coating of residue that stuck to its body after taking a bath in a sea of bliss.

Morning began with a two hour drive across the Adirondack Mountain range. A misty hazy fog mingled with the rolling tree tops at first light then dispersed as the day progressed. It correlated almost perfectly to the “cob webs” of the mind structuring themselves into focus.

It was Route 8 that led the way like the yellow brick road to the Wizard of Oz. Acting as a vein of human existence, the roadway supports a few hardy little towns. With a glimpse, one can see that the rugged folks that inhabit those parts know how to get by.

Using only a guesstimate as to how long the trip would take, the arrival to the boat dock / meeting place was mystical in its synchronicity. Just as the truck rolled up alongside the shoreline of Lake George, one could see the fishing boat zipping along the water toward me in the distance. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Coordinating today’s effort was Steve Kabrehl, a fellow member of the My Hunting Forum website. After seeing pictures of some of the lake trout he has caught on Lake George, an inquiry was made to see if he would mind having some company along on one of his outings. The answer was not at all, and my first fishing trip to “The King” was born.

Greeting me at the dock were Steve and Steve’s uncle Sam. It was obvious right from the get go that these guys meant business. Electric downriggers armed the stern of the big ole’ made-to-troll type boat. Duel fish finders with a GPS topo map of the lake showed our position up front.

Conversation quickly brought me to the realization that fishing Lake George is something Steve’s family has been doing for many, many years. Some of his uncle Sam’s stories on the lake dated back to before I was born!

One could probably write an entire book about Sam’s years on the water. His smiling, laughing personality told many stories from quite a few different bodies of water and species of fish. A veteran angler that most any dedicated fisherman would appreciate listening to.

It didn’t take long after the lines hit the water before we were into fish. Sam pointed out a sharp drop off on the topographical chart of the lake bottom below. He explained how the lake trout use the break as cover to ambush fish and how it was a hot spot for catching fish. Steve concurred, and within moments of working the structure the poles were throbbing with fish on the line.

Steve proceeded to walk me through much of their tricks and tactics as we caught fish after fish. His patience was impeccable and sincere. Before long, I was a working part of the team effort. It wasn’t just, sit back and we’ll tell you when it’s time to grab the pole and reel in a fish. These guys put you on the level and made you feel at home. We caught some beautiful fish today, but the added tools that Steve & Sam put into my tool box were the best catch of all.

For a few moments today, it seemed as though even the gained insight would be topped. We got into a fish that we just could not move up off the bottom! It just sat there shaking its head while our hearts fluttered. Repeated exclamations of how we were into a big one filled the air from everyone in the boat. I honestly thought my trip back home was going to include a stop at the taxidermist. The adrenaline was pumping and the hair was standing up on the back of the neck.

After about 5 minutes of not being able to budge the fish, uncle Sam put two and two together. He had Steve check one of the other riggers to see if the fish we hooked into was hung up on it. Sure enough, he was right. It popped our bubbles a little bit, but at least we got a good chuckle out of it.

There really is something to be said about letting go of control. Many of us like to be the captain, but humbling ourselves and letting others lead the way can expand our horizons immensely. We often close the door and stick to routines that have produced good results in the past. Others can open doors and shine light into knowledge that lies dormant in the dark.

The fishing trip today had two parts to it. The second half of the trip came after a stop back to the campsite where Steve, Sam, & Steve’s girlfriend Heather were staying. Their hospitality was the best. Between meeting such fine people, learning a bunch more about lake trout tactics, and the incredible fishing, today might just be the most enjoyable outing of the year.

Round two was similar in action to round one, but this time we had a fourth member on the team. Steve’s girlfriend Heather jumped right in on the action and it was obvious she had put in her share of time boating lake trout also.

The little section I saw from the huge 32 mile long lake was as breathtaking as most of the views in the Adirondacks. Driving home with a deep smile inside, a song came on the radio that had a line in it about how some things “steal your face right off your head.” It summed up the day.

After the mishap of forgetting the downriggers and slow lake trout fishing earlier in the month, another song line comes to mind after having such a great time today. “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might just find, you get what you need!”

July 4th, 2011

July 4th, 2011:

Kayuta Lake
Alder Creek, NY
Smallmouth Bass

As life progresses relationships can grow further apart. Brothers that once saw each other on a daily basis can get to the point where a handful of memories together is all that surfaces in a year’s time. Careful examination reveals no crime or victim, just people filtering out the “music” that flows through them.

One thing that is cool about having a brother is that no matter how much life changes us on the outside, we always recognize each other’s core. Certain characteristics that make a person who they are on the deepest level are recognized in a very translucent manner. We know the auras of the elements of each other’s awareness; An understanding that is beyond words.

This morning, two brother’s started the day by catching crayfish for bait. Months had gone by without spending much time together yet we took to the misty morning stream in unison. The real phenomena here, was that we did it without needing to have much of a verbal conversation. It had all been said before…

We caught our bait in the exact location where I began fishing over 30 years ago. It is a place that hasn’t been visited in quite a few years. Being there with him was a very mystical thing. Sometimes it seems as though life is just some sort of strange dream that recycles itself in infinite ways.

Proceeding from the Oriskany Creek in Clark Mills, our effort made its way to the dam on Kayuta Lake in Alder Creek. Hard fighting smallmouth bass were the target species. This location has proved to be quite a consistent producer of good quality smallies in the 12-18” range.

The bronze colored fish with its cool looking stripes have earned a special place in many an angler’s heart. Pound for pound they sure put up one heck of a fuss! Spastic bezerkoid fights for freedom and survival are deeply written into the fish’s genetic code. Perhaps the common admiration comes from the ability to relate with the rugged little fish.

Our tactics for enticing the fish to bite were simple. A crayfish is placed on a hook below a bobber and drifted through the pockets of water below the dam. The leader length is adjusted to the depth of the water one is drifting.

The action was fair today. Quite a few fish received free meals at our expense. A lot of good strikes with submerged bobbers came back with only an bare hook. Perhaps it was smaller fish for the most part. Hard to say when you never see them.

A few hook sets did find there mark and we managed to land a handful of bass. The best one being a hard fighting smallmouth that ran about 14 inches long. It came after a few drifts through a deep hole with smaller sized crayfish. It wasn’t a small crab that did the trick though. The fish came on the first drift after switching to a larger sized crayfish. As soon as the mini lobster hit the water, the bobber was sucked down into the depths. Guessing that fish was looking for a meal, not a snack.

Some bigger fish would have really put the icing on the cake, but we really did enjoy our time together today. Making it the best was warm breezes and sunny blue skies.

May 14th, 2011

May 14th, 2011:

Backwoods “Pond”
Western Adirondacks
Brook Trout

Fully awoken at 3am in the morning, Jim and I set the day in motion by rounding up the gear we needed for a backwoods trip into the Adirondacks. We fumbled around in the dark trying not to wake the others sleeping nearby. It was a fairly smooth execution that even included 15min of catching worms with a flashlight.

Jim agreed to drive his car and to use his gas today. Saving the money was great, but dealing with his driving is not! The S.O.B has a terrible lead foot that leaves the passenger griping at anything secure in the vehicle. We were at the trailhead to our destination before the sun even started to show itself on the horizon.

Jim is one of my oldest, closest friends. Our conversation while making the three mile walk into our fishing spot often ran very deep. At times it almost seemed as if I was talking to another version of myself.

There was a light misty rain that accompanied our outing. It wasn’t a cold rain, and it helped to keep the pesky black flies from becoming overwhelming. The greenery was about half way developed; Leaving the scenery looking like a natural “buzz cut.” The long, shaggy, hippie hair will be here soon.

Our technique for catching the brook trout is simple. We simply cast out Lake Clear wabbler spoons that are trailed with a 12 to 24 inch long leader. At the end of the leader a simple hook and worm is attached. We cast them out into the deeper holes, and slowly work them back to shore. The trout are attracted to the flashy spoon and quickly locate the worm.

Jim had an immediate hook up on his first cast, but lost the fish soon after. It quickly became apparent that the fish were going to require a little bit of patience, and a fair amount of effort. The action wasn’t fast and furious, but it was consistent.

Fifteen minutes after Jim lost one on his first cast, I was buzzing with excitement. A beautifully marked, foot long brookie leaped from the water as I thrashed around on the shoreline spewing excitement like a five year old in the toy aisle. Slipping the first gorgeously marked fish into the net, and seeing it up close, was the epic moment of the morning. Those flaming blue halos are a masterpiece of nature. The intricate design and color seem to express the depths of life itself.

The two of us spent a couple hours meshing with the backwoods. Every so often we would dial in on a trout and our excitement would sing the lead vocals. We managed enough trout for a delicious lunch and had a great time in the process.

On the way back to our vehicle we found fresh bear tracks in the mud. It looked as though we may have scared it off just before we got there. Every time we have ventured into this part of the Adirondacks we have seen sign of bear in one form or another, including a very close encounter in the flesh. Plans have been made for a return bear hunting trip in the fall.

April 6th, 2011

April 6th, 2011:

Salmon River / Sandy Creek
Altmar, NY
Steelhead / Brown Trout


Ran into my old friend Chris earlier in the week while taking a break at the gym. We were both headed into Herb Phillipson’s sporting good store to pick up fishing supplies. The result was a fishing partnership today in pursuit of steelhead and brown trout.

If I could somehow go back and make a video recap of the steelhead trips we’ve made over the years, it would be almost hysterical. We could entitled it “The bumbling adventures of a couple bored anglers.” Neither of us have ever had enough drive to master the fish, but we do have fun giving it a shot.

The river was very crowded this morning. Arriving on the Salmon River in Altmar near the Wire Hole, we walked almost to the Ellis Cove area before finding a place to fish. The fish were stacked up in the area at different stages of the spawning process, and a lot of fishermen were there trying to catch them.

We put in a decent effort for a couple hours. Fighting through cold hands and frustrating line tangles trying to trick a hungry fish into biting. We did see a couple fish being landed, but neither of us were able to hook into anything.

Looking to warm up and get something to eat, we made our way back to Chris’ car. I wanted to go try Orwell Brook, so we headed off in that direction. To our dismay, my guidance led us into unknown territory. I had somehow misjudged the road leading to the spot we intended to fish. After quite sometime of driving through unknown country side and passing through little towns we never heard of, we arrived in the small town of Sandy Creek.

It was a fine way to find a familiar place again. Not only did I know how to get back to where we had started out, but there was also a fine little stretch of water there in town for us to fish.

Before venturing down to the creek, we stopped into a little diner to grab a bite to eat. It was a typical small town diner that one can find all across the country. When the waitress came out with our food, we were delighted to see some fine small town cooking. Things then went terribly wrong when I approached the waitress for condiments.

After placing our plates of food in front of us and asking us if we needed anything, she began to walk away from our table. As I went to take the first bite from my omelet, the realization came to me that it was missing hot sauce. I excitedly hollered over to the waitress before she wandered away, letting her know that I would like some hot sauce for my omelet. Problem was, while doing so I made a hand gesture like I had the bottle in my hand, and I was trying to squirt it out onto my food. It was identical to a perverted gesture that mimics male masturbation.

The waitress’ eyes bulged from their sockets, and she exclaimed “what!?” I had no idea, and raised my voice while continuing the gesture, saying: “hot sauce!” “hot sauce!” She turned away with a disgusted look, and I couldn’t figure out for the life of me what I had done.

I turned toward Chris, and his face was turning blue with hysterical laughter. He was literally starting to drool. He looked at me, made the gesture, and said “hot sauce?” My face turned beat red after realizing what I had done.

It got worse because Chris just couldn’t pull it together and remained in a hysterical state of laughter. Next thing you know, I’m unable to breath and caught up in the same uncontrollable state. We were really making a scene in that little diner, and needless to say, our service was less than ideal…

The fishing went a little better. We were able to locate a few fish milling about in a few of Sandy’s deeper pockets of water. Seeing those big fish up close and personal in a small stream like Sandy Creek really gets the heart pumping. Getting them to bite is often a difficult task, because the fish tend to be very skittish.

The first hook-up was very short lived. The big hefty steelhead made a short powerful run, and the game was over before it had a chance to begin. I actually think the letdown from the disconnect outweighed the excitement of the hook-up.

Hook-up number two went a little better. Drifting a small night crawler through a deep hole under a bobber was the ticket. The chunky brown trout danced on the surface of the water for awhile as I fumbled around trying to get the net under it. The hook maintained it’s connection and at last I was holding a fine fish.

Even the success of our fishing took an unexpected path when I failed to maintain a firm grip on my catch. While waiting for Chris to come over and take a picture of the fish, it squirmed loose and swam off. It was a little frustrating, but didn’t really phase us too much.

The frustrating part of our outing developed while heading home. Chris’ newly purchased car had a breakdown, leaving us stranded in a bait store parking lot in Pineville. Making the best of it, we tossed our lines into the river down by the bridge while waiting for a tow truck. Today was just another one of our bumbling adventures through steelhead country.

June 11th, 2011

Forestport Reservoir
Forestport, NY
Pumpkinseed Sunfish

Summertime fishing arrived today as my nephew Jonathan and I loaded up our little 12ft rowboat and headed up to our favorite local fishing spot. As usual, the deal was if he would help me with chores around the house then we could squeeze in sometime to head up to the reservoir in Forestport. So we quickly worked together to put a fresh coat of paint on some fencing along our driveway; It Enabled us to spread our wings and have some fun.

These trips to the reservoir are centered around Jonathan. The excitement and joy that he experiences is immense, and also very contagious. Through his eyes, I am able to recapture the joy that hooked me on fishing many years ago. We are deep into the cycle of life. Not having any kids of my own, Jon is as close at it gets. Teaching him how to fish has been a great experience for both of us.

Jon has come a long way from his toddler days a few years back. He has conquered the fear of holding fish, began baiting his own hook, and takes the hook out from his catches. Watching, and helping him turn into a little man is a very enlightening experience. I am very proud of him. He has even gotten to the point were he pushes the envelope on his own, and finds ways to catch fish that I wouldn’t have suggested trying. The little bugger is getting good!

This year we have a very cool deal going on. I acquired a piece of driftwood that will hold a pair of large sunfish very nicely. We are keeping our largest fish throughout the summer and when the leaves begin to change we will head to the taxidermist to have a fine mount made with the two biggest fish. The name plate will read Jonathan Hawkins / Uncle Issiah / Forestport Reservoir. It’ll be a keepsake that I’m sure will bring back fine memories in the years to come.

We catch quite a variety of fish in the reservoir. The main species we have encountered have been smallmouth bass, chain pickerel, rock bass, yellow perch and our favorite the pumpkinseed sunfish. Not only is the sunfish’s colors a beautiful spectacle of nature, but the ones in this reservoir grow to rather large proportions. We often catch a fish or two in the 9 - 10 inch range. The real icing on the cake is the way the feisty sunfish puts up a scrap on light tackle.

We stick to simple bobber and worm fishing for the most part. It gets so intense at times watching the float / indicator on top of the water. Often after a bit of effort, the bobber will emit vibrations that indicate a fish has taken a nip at the bait. The nip vibration slowly turn into the bobber being dragged slowly across the surface of the water. The epic moment of truth comes when the bobber is completely pulled under the surface. We simultaneously excitedly exclaim things like “Get em’!”, “There it is!”, “He’s Got it!!” The excitement is followed by a good ole’ yank, and most often a throbbing rod tip. Battling the fish and pulling them into the boat is the best of the best. We cheer, laugh, and shout often experiencing borderline moments of blissful ecstasy.

Today we caught a nice variety of fish. We’ve had hotter days of fishing but the action was plenty steady and provided plenty of fun. Jon started things off with a nice chunky yellow perch that got us riled up a bit. He also managed a good sized rock bass and a few of our cherished pumpkinseeds. Watching him catch fish was just too much for me, so I had to join in on the action also. Adding to our days tally, I managed a couple of chain pickerel and a few more pumpkinseeds. One of the sunfish stretched the tape measure to the 9.5 - 9.75” mark. That fish is a great start toward our driftwood mounts.

On our way home (we were a little late getting back) Jon explained to me that he plans on fishing with me routinely this summer. He went as far as to take his fishing hat off and place it next to mine on the dashboard of my truck. The two hats sit there idle throughout the week just waiting for the time to come when we can spread our wings again. It’s one of those things that you look at and it keeps you smiling even when life’s demands aren’t very enjoyable. Knowing days like today lie ahead make it easier to keep on truckin’.