"Stress-Free" Muskie

Normally if I have a day off I'm all about getting to the spot stupid early, but this time I sort of just got up when I normally head to work and started loading the car.  The boss lady and I spent some well deserved down time on the couch the night before and I mentioned how I'd like to just have a stress free, easy going fishing trip on my day off.  Previous trips, like the vast majority of my outings, had the weight of a goal attached to them.  If it wasn't about checking off a new trophy specie, or bringing home groceries, it was about acquiring that right size fish for prints and artwork.  When I told her that I just want to go and cast around she looked at me funny.  "That's not like you."  I told her it's not good to get hopes up for musky fishing anyway.  She rolled her eyes.

I launched late.  It was almost lunch time.  The plan was to drift around and cast the same area I was fishing last year then perhaps explore a different section.  If I got lucky, then perhaps I'd see one or two, maybe get one to follow the lure, and it would be an alright day.  Well within the first 30 minutes I drift directly over one.  So of course, I stayed in the same area and kept casting.  Half an hour later...

Fat 36" Musky

An hour in and I would have been happy if that was the end of my trip.  But of course, I wasn't leaving yet.  I decided to make one more drift before trying somewhere else.  

Thing is, when you drift right over another one it makes darn near impossible to move to another area.  Over the next few hours I saw a total of 4, two of which were nice sized.  I tried a few other lures but I eventually went back to the one I had most confidence in, the big glide bait.  Not long after, a big headed beast followed but veered away before just before I could try to circle the lure around at the yak.  I suspect the wind pushing my kayak into its path didn't help.  

A few casts later my line came tight abruptly and the water erupted.  I got all giddy again and she was pretty with that green iridescence on her back, streaking up and down the river.  I kept yelling "oh you so beautiful!" but she was forever pissed.  When she calmed down, I nervously put the boga lip grip on her and quickly slid my hand up the attached rope.  As suspected, the signature tornado of teeth and giant trebles ensued.  After the final tantrum, I slid her over the side and there was no doubt that I had a new personal best.

She measured out at 43" for a Virginia Citation (trophy)

As good as it was, I figured I would try a little longer. 

An hour later, with the wind really starting to bother me, 

I packed it up... 

More than content with my "stress-free" musky trip.

I'll Take Luck Any Day

My friend mentioned to me that some people think I'm getting soft.  And in some ways, perhaps I am. Long hours with clients were followed by a myriad of never ending chores, kiddo piano lessons, nerf gun battles, and making sure to create lasting birthday party memories.  With timing being what it is, I've been playing make believe fishing in Lego land with my youngins more often than I was actually casting lines in the water.  And that's ok.  The richness in my life doesn't feel diminished in the least.

I also haven't felt the need to keep this site updated as much and even thought about shutting it down.  With social media being what it is now, I wasn't sure it was needed anymore.  Then I went back and read some of my old posts.  I used to tell stories and really had a nice following.  I suspect not many will keep coming back but I don't think I can just delete such great memories.  I decided to keep updating from time to time more for my own sake than sharing with others.

On that note, yes I finally had a chance to have a productive fishing session.  As in years past, I went on a fall marathon.  Time of departure, 9:30pm.  First stop, good ol' HRBT.  It took a while but I cruised the light line and found the the schoolie stripers chompin.  Along with them were a gazillion baby bluefish and grey trout.  I had to work the dark paddletail deeper and very close to the pilings to get the stripers to eat it before the blues.  I iced two at 22" and took a nap in the car.

A few hours later, I met my good friend and fellow Werner Paddles and Kokatat Team member, Drew Camp.  I've been wanting to check out his local lake for some time and the standing invitation had been there a while.  After all this time, I can't seem to pull myself away from the trophy/citation hunt.  It was a good lake for big channel catfish I was hoping to check that off the list.  While catching bait, I suddenly found myself in a familiar mode saying "Get in the boat.  Get in the boat!".  I went from catching 6-7 inch bream to hooking into what I thought was a nice crappie.... until I realized it was a massive dinner plate size sunfish.  

Citation starts at 11" for a Virginia sunfish so needless to say, I was a ecstatic.

Drew was tearing up the bass as usual...

21.5" bass caught on a tiny blade bait vertical jigging

 Drew went on to mention how he's caught tons of the sunfish in that area but never anything that big.  

I said I'll take luck any day.

Just then I noticed a grasshopper sitting on the very tip of my bow.  Thought it was pretty cool and perhaps lucky. 

 

I went back to fishing and not long after hooked into a really nice channel cat an inch shy of citation on the same tiny ultra light rig with night crawlers that I was catching sunfish on. 

 That drag was SINGING!

I went on to catch several more in the 28-29" range on normal medium heavy catfish gear but kept coming up shy of that 30" mark needed for trophy. 

A few hours went by and I was thinking of calling it a day since I already checked a new trophy specie off the list.  On the proverbial "last cast" I hooked into one that pulled me along.  I've caught tons of much bigger blue cats and flatheads as well as smaller channel cats.  I have to say, I was impressed by the citation class channel cats' strength.  They put up a good fight for their size.  

And yes, it turned out to be the trophy I was looking for. 

 And no, I didn't get a grip and grin, like a dummy.

On my way back to the launch I paddled by a downed tree 

and my lucky cricket jumped ship.
I smiled and thanked it for the luck. 
And on a more serious note, messaged Drew about how much I appreciated him showing me around his spot. 

As timing gets tougher and tougher, it's really hard to fully express how amazing it is to have friends willing to help out someone getting "soft". 

Like a proper marathon though, on the way back home I stopped at the HRBT again and took my newbie kayak fishing friend Mike.  He did better than last time (last year) and hooked several schoolies while managing his kayak better in the current/structure.  

I ended up scoring a fat 23"er and one just shy of 28".  

Trophy Bass from the Neighborhood Lake

We decided to take a family paddle around a neighborhood lake on Memorial day.  On the way, crossing a bridge named after a fallen veteran was a poignant reminder of what so many had sacrificed for us to enjoy the freedoms we have today.  As my family and I drove up to the launch area, I made sure my kiddos knew why we had the day off, and reminded them why we should not take it for granted.

After ninja-ing our way up close, we got a pretty good look at a heron before it flew off.  The kids also enjoyed a dunk in the lake to cool off.  We then did an exploratory excursion into some hard to get to areas and my fishy senses began tingling.  However, as with most outing with the stinkers, their patience ran low and all that swimming made them hungry. Plus with the sun still blazing it was a good decision to head in and not to get too crispy.  After dinner though, my wife noticed my wheels turning and smiled.  "Go ahead".  

Oddly enough, top water lures were not getting the attention I had hoped for.  I switched over to a spinnerbait and casted along the edges of the pads.  In no time, I connected with two 15"-16" fish.  Then a few minutes later, I set the hook into one much heavier.  Turned out to be my new personal best and my first largemouth citation (trophy).  

I love the salt and obviously spend a lot more time there, but I suspect with fish like this near by, there will be more quick trips to my neighborhood spot.  

Hope you all had a great Memorial Day weekend too!

One thing I Don't Skip in Spring

So many fish.

So little time.

The reoccurring theme of this site has become how daddy-life and office-life pretty much kick my ass on the daily.  I keep saying how I want to chase certain fish during certain seasons.  But, winter catfish got skipped, yellow perch got skipped, crappie, bedding bass, and so on.  One of my favorites is spring tautog and unfortunately that got skipped too.  Well, I made sure to make time to look for one of my other spring favorites,
 
And it was worth it.  As in years past, my buddies and I paddled and searched until we found them.  Willy Rags, Wayne Tu, Doug Greiner, Gary from MD, and myself all hooked up.  Big swimbaits with stout hooks, 50lb braid, and 65lb leader lead to signature headshakes, mean runs and awesome sleigh rides.  

Photo Credit: William Ragulsky

Huge thanks to Ragulsky for his camera work.  
Unfortunately I couldn't return the favor.  He had a thick 50+" red slip out of his lap before I could get a photo.  

Greiner and Gary went on to have an amazing season.  I didn't get as many chances to chase them as I would have liked, but I'm very grateful for the opportunites I did get.

Big Blue Redemption

It was the first trip out for them this year.  Tide was just starting to drop and the sun began dipping behind the trees.  As with most trips I smiled after my first few paddle strokes and gratitude filled for the opportunity to spend some time on the water.  I slow trolled two rods, one with a big crankbait and one with a live bait, hoping to find a good school.  It took a little longer than I expected, but eventually hooked into a good one.

This is my fifth year chasing trophy bluefish in Old Dominion.  Virginia's release citation length for the yellow eyed demon is 36" and every year I've come up just a tiny bit short.  Thing is, weeding through a ton of upper 20" and lower 30" fish to hook up with a paper contender is no easy task. 
The last couple of years, I decided to just let it happen when it happens, enjoy the fights even if it's not a trophy, and not get so bent out of shape like I did in the early years.  2017 was no different.  Heck, as busy as I've been, just finding the time to get out was a joy in itself. 

This one got my heart rate up though.  It was strong.  Streaking away, more line peeled off of the tight drag than I expected.  It came to the surface and thrashed but I couldn't get a good look at it from that distance and low light.  It tucked it's head back under, went on another impressive run and all of a sudden, the line went slack.  The treble pulled and my heart sank.  But I didn't dwell on it.  It wasn't the first time that's happened and I know it won't be the last.  Plus, there's never just one bluefish.  Where there's one, there's a bunch.  I quickly got set back up and just like I thought, it wasn't long before I had another rod bent over.  This one wasn't nearly as strong.  And neither were the next 7 or 8.  Eventually the action slowed and I decided to call it.  I had a good time, it was getting late, and the citation will happen when it happens.

However, trolling my way out of the area got a mean take down.  Line peeled quickly but it came unbuttoned before I could pick up the rod.  And you know what that means.  I couldn't leave on that note.  I was on my second pass trolling back and forth when I got another hook up.  The strength impressed me again like the first one but I was able to get it to the boat fairly quickly.  I turned on my head lamp and that's when it decided to put on a show.  I held on tight as it spun the kayak furiously.  Then with gills all flared out, like tarpon in one of those fishporn clips, it tail walked several feet before going on another drag peeling run.  All the while, as I'm enjoying the fight, in a strange way I just assumed it wasn't going to be a trophy.  I guess all the others over the years that felt similar but kept coming up short conditioned me not to get my hopes up.  That was until I got the lip grip on it and had it laying in my footwell.  It was bigger than I thought it would be.  To be sure of the measurement I went to shore and laid it out.

Of course, I didn't bring a decent camera so a phone selfie is all I got.

Finally.

Pickerel in the Mist

It had been nearly three months since my paddle pushed through the water.  The forced hiatus, which may have allowed me to focus on many "grown-up" things, still felt like an eternity.  

Jeff Lockhart and I met Drew Camp and his dad, Chip, in their neck of the woods in search of bass and pickerel.  Even though it was wet and chilly, a perma-grin remained plastered on my face as I felt my kayak glide.  And my cheeks didn't get any rest for awhile because my first fish of the day was a trophy pickerel.

Afterwards, we caught several more pickerel but the bass were tough to come by.  I had a few little ones but that was it.  My best luck came on a spinnerbait, husky jerk, and square bill.  

Bass Dorsal

Pickerel eye markings and gill plate

Being able to check a citation off the list with my first trophy pickerel felt pretty awesome especially while juggling daddy-life, office duties, and trying to get a house ready to put on the market.  

'Til next time, hope you all get on the water, and hopefully it won't be too long before I get out too.

5 Trophy Gar and Chunky Cat

It was what I was hoping for.  

They were everywhere.  

I took Jeff to a spot down on the James River below Hopewell and got into them quickly.  Minnows on the bottom as well as under bobbers didn't last long.  We lost count of the mid to upper 30" gar.  The hard part was letting them run after they picked up the bait.  If it was too earlier, we could feel them drop and the minnow would come back missing scales.  When we timed it right, we were treated to fast streaks and tail walking mayhem.  Anytime you have a 40 plus inch fish jump clear out of the water multiple times then thrash right next to your kayak with mouth wide open and full of please don't get in the kayak yet, adrenaline will flow.

Over the span of a few hours I tallied 5 citations up to a little over 44".  Jeff got the timing right as well and landed a citation also right at 40". 

After running out of minnows, I found a nice channel with a sharp drop off.  We dropped chunks of gizzard shad on 8/0 circle carolina rigs and I quickly had a strong take down.  The heavy catfish swung my kayak around in a hurry but somehow the circle hook came out.  Not too long after, this 41"er gave me a chance for redemption.

I wish I had brought my scale because it had been eating very, very well.

The trophy blue catfish was a most welcome cherry on top of a an already awesome day.  

Sunrise with Two Trophy Sheepshead (VIDEO)

Here's the video of the two sheepshead from this post (link). 

Two Trophy Sheepshead, Spades, Togs, and a Keeper Cobia

A dim glow was slowly creeping across the eastern sky when my kayak set free from the beach.  The water was black and glassy and the glide was silky smooth.  I looked up at the stars, smiled, and whispered gratitude.  When I looked back down, my bow was cutting through thick bioluminescence creating Tron-like streaks on the water.  Each stroke of my Werner Kalliste sent clouds of electric blue swirling by and like the other times I've sat on an expansive touch-sensitive light-up body of water, I was reminded of what it feels like to be a child... giddy... full of wonder and amazement. 

The surreal Life-Of-Pi-esque scene, minus the gazillion jellyfish and jumping whale, faded as color spread and reflected on the mirror finish. 

I dropped my sheepshead rig in four or five spots before the sun was clear of the horizon.  Not too long afterwards, I got my first bite.  The strange yet familiar grinding with a sudden weight triggered that instinctual swing and urgent need to gain line.  Plunges of my rod tip preluded the high friction exiting of said line.  We exchanged possession of that length a few times while I kicked and pushed to get away from the big CBBT pilings.  When its rage wore off, I realized the hook was only holding on to a tiny sliver at the tip of it's lip.  I turned the fish so I could tuck my foot under it's pelvic fin, pinned it against the side of my kayak and pushed up as I pulled on the leader.  It measured right at 24".  

24" Release Citation Sheepshead

About 20 minutes later, I replayed the previous sequence much to my delight.  The 25"er had better hook placement on it though. 

25" Release Citation Sheepshead

It was 7:18 and I doubled up on my goal of getting a release citation sheepshead.  Since the bite was hot, I stuck around the area hoping for a third.  However, my patience ran out quickly thinking about the other goals I had for the day.  I had been wanting to make a print of a spadefish for a while, but haven't had a chance to bring one home.  After a quick paddle to different spot, the first drop down with clam brought on the rod-vibrating fight of a 10" spadefish.  Second drop down produced similar. Then, after 15 minutes of no action, I decided it was time to move on.  I checked off goal number two, as one of the spades went on ice destined to be inked.

The final goal of the day was to give it a good shot for cobia.  The sun was getting high enough to possibly see them.  Keeping a keen eye on the surface, I tried to cover as much water as possible in my Ultra 4.7.  However, when I got to one of my favorite spots, I had to drop a fiddler crab down just to see if anyone was home.

Anyone else remember Beetlejuice from Howard Stern?

After four togs up to about 15" I pulled myself away to resume the cobia hunt.  After a good long paddle, I saw what I was hoping for; silly brown clown circling a piling.  It wasn't very big, but I was definitely still going to take a shot.  It was swimming counter clockwise and I tossed a RonZ past the piling to the right side just as fish came around on the left.  I swam it near the surface and he charged as soon as he saw it.  He hit it but didn't eat.  I bounced it and he started chasing.  It was getting fairly close to the kayak and I was running out of line.  I dipped the rod down, thinking I was going to have to open the bail to let the lure drop, but then he grabbed it hard and I slammed it home.  Up until this point, I had only hooked up to cobia on friends' boats and charters.  I've seen plenty from a kayak, including some monsters, but for various reasons (sometimes beyond my control and sometimes my fault) I just never got a hook up.  So, I took my time and enjoyed this fight.  He immediately took some line, came up to the surface and thrashed, circled around and made a run back toward the pilings.  I was able to turn him and then he sounded.  For a smallish cobia, it definitely had some attitude; which I wanted all gone from him when it came time to bring it on the kayak.  I let him take as many runs as he wanted.  Eventually, he stayed relatively calm and I noticed the hook placement was good.  I grabbed the leader and slowly pulled him up.  

I quickly measured him at 38" and decided to keep it.  Knowing how strong they are and their destructive nature if it were to thrash in my lap, I took the hammer to the dome.  

I could have ended the trip at 7 in the morning and the 2hr drive home would have still been all smiles.  But with two release citation sheepies, spades, togs, and a keeper cobia under the hatch... you could say I was cheezin pretty hard. 
 
I made it back to shore by 2pm to get back home by 5pm as promised.  Cherry on top of it all was taking the kids to their first baseball game.  

That celebratory beer though...

Cheers.

Hopefully I'll be back out soon to upgrade that kayak cobia.

In the meantime, fish prints it is...

Video of the sheepies and cobia coming soon.

Perchin' After the Thaw

I went into it with little to no expectation.  

And as with many trips without the possibility of a big let down, 

it turned out to be a memorable one. 

Work, babies, and an extra hour and a half in the wrong direction made what used to be a once or twice a week thing into a rare occurrence.  The message from Justin Mayer saying that he's actually planning on fishing reminded me of some great trips we've had.  Naturally, I accepted the invite...

My more recently acquired fishing buddy, Jeff Lockhart and I met Justin at a creek northeast of Richmond hoping for yellow perch.  Their spawn migration should be in full effect in most rivers in the area.  But having heard of a lot of ice still on many of the normal spots to find them or the water being high and muddy, I didn't get my hopes up.  If it was fishable, I planned on locating schools with live minnows then switching to grubs and blade baits.

Well I definitely found them in decent numbers and sizes.  Jeff, Justin, his dad Curtis and I couldn't get them to take any artificials but we did have good luck on the minnows.  I happened to have the hot rod of the day and landed 16 with 5 over trophy sized (12") and one at 13".  Not being an avid perch fisherman, I didn't know the best live minnow rig for them so I just macguyered a small sinker, with a little dropper loop 10" above that with a little aberdeen hook.  It seemed to get the job done.

From not expect much to ending up with 5 little big fish trophies in one day definitely put a grin on my face.

Needless to say, my kids were eating good.  They even got into a discussion about how they liked it much better than the speckled trout they had last time.  Natalie went on to say she thought flounder was better.
"That's debatable, sweetie."

Fish prints to coming soon...

Fall Marathon

It was perfect.  

So perfect, that Lee went to work,
checked the weather, 

then decided that work didn't need him that day.  

 The text came in at 6:30 am saying "Leaving work. Togging it is today."

I happened to be sleeping on his couch at that moment.  

Jeff Lockhart and I got in around 1:15 am 

after fishing part one of what will turn out to be 

... a great fall marathon.

Mountain range leaf piles lined my sidewalk as we loaded two Trident 13s on my little hatchback.  After three and a half hours of raking both the front and back runways,  I was cleared for departure.   On our way out of town, traffic cone remnants of the Richmond Marathon bid us adieu as we refined plans for our upcoming fishing binge. 

Right on schedule, an hour and forty later, Billy Ragulsky (aka Willy Rags) was stocking up on his favorite lures at Ocean's East 2.  We all picked up live blue and green crabs for the next day's target specie and bolted to one of our favorite late fall spots for that evening's quarry, speckled trout.  The tide started dropping about an hour before we launched so we set up at the mouth of a creek and started casting.  Bait flickered here and there, which gave us hope.  Unfortunately, none of us had any hits.  Various Mirrolures, dines, PBs, topwaters, jerkbaits, and soft plastics didn't get the reaction we wanted.  So, we started trolling around the flat and that was the ticket.  I dragged a Procure smeared purple demon Mirrolure on one line and a 1/4oz jighead n dark bodied paddletail on another while the other guys kept to their confidence lures of choice.  The majority of my take-downs happened near the edge of the flat where it started to drop off.  Once I located a group of fish, I would try casting the same lures, but I couldn't get a hit.  And as soon as I trolled by, I would hook up again.  This has happened to me before many times and I always found it interesting.  In any case, we all had an amazing night.  20"-23" trout were prevalent as we all stopped counting how many we had of those.  Jeff ended the night with a new personal best at 26".  I scored two trophies at 25" and 26.5" and the extra point striper at 19" was good.  Willy Rags landed a big diva over 28" that threw a hissy fit on the hawg trough and refused a photo op.

26.5" Speckled Trout

The alarm hadn't gone off yet.  

Bleary eyed... 

I reached over... 

read the text and put it back down on the coffee table.  

Eyes closed, I processed what it meant.  

Smile creeping... 

the day just got way more interesting.

The water was like glass most of the day and in true form, Lee was on fire.  The bite in general was hot, but as Lee says in his own words... "I'm so much better at this than anyone else."  He was hooking up on every drop and laughing at you when you drop on the same hole and...

Over and over again.

Lee was pure entertainment all day and caught 25-30 togs with a lot of them going between 17"-19". Jeff caught another personal best at 18.5" and now understands why we get so excited about togs.  Billy had good numbers with a nice one coming on a crab tipped jighead.  Kevin showed up later on and scored decent numbers as well.  With the weather as nice as it was, several others were out on the tog hunt including a few Maryland Boys and some guys from local forums.  Everyone was pulling in fish, but for whatever reason, I started off slow.

Jeff Lockhart's new personal best tog at 18.5"

Lee Williams

Several little females had this cool yellowish tone.

William Ragulsky with a tog on jig.

Lee "____ 'em up" Williams

It took a little while, but I did find my rhythm.  Eventually, with everyone hanging around the same set of pilings, talking smack, I set the hook into one that got me a little more excited...

"oh ..."

I lucked out with the group's biggest of the day at 20.5"

I ended with 12-15 togs with a bunch in the 17"-18" range and the one over 20".  

Satisfied, we paddled back in on flat water.  

An hour later, Billy, Jeff and I found ourselves standing in line at the gas station convenience store still in waders, reeking.  Hoping for an encore of the previous night's escapades we rushed back to the same spot while cramming down some grub.  

The bite wasn't quite as good but I still wrangled over a dozen in three hours or so.  In contrast from the night before, my first five were caught casting instead of trolling.  Then when that bite turned off, I switched to trolling and found them again.  We got rained on a bit but that didn't bother us much.  With rain jackets and the hits coming steady we weren't fazed at all.  My biggest for the night went 26". Billy scratched another trophy as well at 24".

Thirty three and a half hours after we left, Jeff and I arrived back in Richmond chuckling at the luck we had.  The wind was virtually non existent the entire time and each leg of the marathon was an absolute blast.  I got the pullage I was craving and a good number of groceries to fillet.  

And 

I got my yard work done.