Wednesday Sunfish

As soon as I saw the weather report on Monday I was in a panic. The turbulent weather had played havoc on my entire season but now laid a perfect scenario in front of me with 3 good weather days and one big front as opposed to all bad days and maybe an hour here and there where you weren’t feeling Mother Nature’s wrath at less than DEFCON 4 (depending on exactly where you were that minute). Not being able to take the entire time off of work the focus had to be set on where it would count most…the last day before the @#$% hit the fan. By Tuesday I was calling in favors and looking at a day off on Wednesday.

Reach the water and conditions are beyond tasty. The air temp in the morning was a mild 55-degrees but climbing fast in the open sunlight. Water temps were guesstimated at mid-60’s in the shallows. Right away I see fish and lose sight of the game plan, which was to catch some fantastic sunfish and start casting at anything visible with fins. Early in the game I pull up a smallmouth scrapper.

(Above: Little red-eye bronze that put up a decent scrap for no good reason at all other than to take me away from my green sunfish hunt.)

The small smallmouth bass is released and I toss a few casts at some fish cruising. These fish were fairly selective and avoided anything my presentations. Not have the time to linger I quickly port out and move on to the second pond and start my search for sunfish. Within the hour I was spotting schools of sunfish but nothing above average in size. Most of the fish were bluegill and not the green sunfish that look especially spectacular this time of year. With some additional rowing and scouting I was able to dial in a few.

(Above: New camera and all but the 10.5” Green Sunfish(hybrid?) still looks a bit washed out. Honestly you would think these fish come from the Amazon or some exotic salt-water region. Through snow and ice these fish thrive in many waters.)

One of the ways a Mattsabasser deals with the bass post spawn is to fish for other species that are more active. Sunfish are moving into that mode right now as well as that whole summer time pattern is falling into swing. This is also a good time for me to fine tune the bass presentations as the fish get can afford to be more selective with so much forage around. Make a tweak here, change the color pattern there. Pick up the retrieval speed just a touch and WHAM! Post spawn bucket grabs and holds on.

(Above: Medium\heavy forward hold on a post spawn bucket mouth that shows a few signs of aging. Big head, dark colors and a dense body lead to me believe this fish has seen many summers. It is my wish that it sees many more.)

About halfway through the trip I get a gust of wind when trying to position the tooner  over a good spot. Cranking down on the oars I give the boat just enough forward momentum to compensate and keep me on the location. Wooosh! I hear a something going in the water directly behind me.

“Oh no.” I say knowing this sound is never a herald of good tidings.

Turn and see my blue milk crate in the water and all of the contents emptied. After some struggle I manage to retrieve the water bottles, life jacket, air pump and tooner gear bag. What was lost was the crate itself, the handle to the cart and the underwater camera that I had purchased last year with some amazing footage. Fishing for me does not come without its struggles, danger and perils.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Photos from the Field

Through my adventures photos are taken that never seem to make it into specific fish posts. To be honest, a lot of my fishing goes unseen or heard. Even though these pictures may not be ready for prime time fishing posts, I have found a way to fit them in an excerpt called “Photos from the Field.”

Rock Wilson

(Above: Walking the lake shore I spot some discoloration on a rock that brought back flashbacks of the movie Castaway with Tom Hanks and co-star volleyball named “Wilson”. This rock would make a good Colorado version of said companion in my opinion. Pausing for a moment and taking a sip of water I had a brief conversation with Rock Wilson before moving on. Yes…the summer heat does get to me sometimes.)

Momma and her llama

(Above: Good companions on the trail are harder to find than you might think and probably few have considered a llama. These are very interesting creatures with a lot of quality attributes. The title would have been a lot catchier if a goose made it into the shot. Llama, momma, goose…get it?)

Bad Eggs

(Above: This clutch of eggs has been abandoned by the mother or extremely late in the game and the mother is off feeding some where far, far away which is somewhat rare. Most goslings have hatched and several weeks old by now. My guess is something went wrong and these eggs went bad. This is one of the better looking nesting spots in the area proving that bad things do happen in good neighborhoods.)

Lawn Ornament

(Above: It seems that everyone with a big yard will have some type of lawn ornament or the other. Some folks in Colorado have oilrigs somewhere on the homestead turning them off or on depending on the price of barrel crude. Kind of like having a lawn ornament that helps pay the mortgage.)

Tracking Care Bears

(Above: I don’t claim to be an expert tracker or even a master identifier of prints in the wild. However I am sure that this print is too small to be that of an Ewok but quite possibly that of a baby Care Bear. Also leaving open the slight chance it could be that of a baby raccoon or other small animal.)

June has been blessed with much precipitation this year keeping everything blanketed with lush green colors. Before we know it everything could fade back into the dry browns of hot summer and then the gold of fall. Take a moment to soak in the lush green while it still lasts. Thank you so much for your views, rates and especially the amazing comments. This blog is fueled by your support.

Good luck and good fishing.

 

Bluegill on the Backup Plan

Scouting some area north of my usual stomping grounds I check up on a few ponds that I fished a year ago. Upon arrival I can tell the recent storms have churned up the already stained water. To make matters worse, my waders decided to start letting water in on both sides. Had to pull the bellyboat out, switch clothes and check to make sure I didn’t soak the cell phone for the fourth or fifth time. Shorebang things for a moment while my head starts coming up with a Plan B.

Reach the Plan B spot somewhat late in the morning and see the bluegill are active. Looking several feet into the shallows the commotion was easily visible. Some fish are guarding nests, some fish are waiting to spawn and other fish are darting in and out to eat whatever they can. Upon seeing the active panfish my bass-chasing plan goes right out the window. Quick change up to the micro section and I find myself in Gill-Plink City.

A few of these gills were in the 7-8 inch range. I am sure there might be a few in the 9-10 inch class but wind, lack of boatage and the impending crowds left me with only a few shallow shoreline areas. Getting a first look at this location as well as a few quality panfish is still a good amount of bounty for a backup plan this late in the day. These locations are fairly close to a major city populace so crowd factor is always part of the equation. Now that I have a visual lay of the land my planning can go forward on a Plan A trip for this location. Thick schools of panfish generally mean healthy bass populations and worth another look someday.

Colorado has several species of sunfish. Identification between the various types can be difficult especially with frequent hybridization. Bluegill can be distinguished from other sunfish by the smaller mouths and the dark spot on the outside edge of the gill plate. Other sunfish may have smaller mouths as well but will have a red mark on the edge of the dark dot similar to the pumpkinseed sunfish below.

The gear can be anything micro hook size #10 to #6. Be cautious with smaller sized hooks and larger gills as they will inhale the smaller baits costing time in the removal or harming the fish. I will toss 1\8 to 1\16oz grubs and baby shad patterns ideally on 4lb line. Mainly geared up for bass I made due with the 6lb. This was one moment where I was kicking myself for not brining the long rod. Then we would be talking a complete gill slamfest. 

All in all the trip paid off on a few levels. Having actually brought some backup clothes for once really saved me. The morning outdoor strip down was not part of the plan but the only way to get back in the game. I scouted a few more areas well beyond my normal target range and still caught fish despite many setbacks. It always helps having a Plan B or even C in life as the landscape is forever changing.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Access to 2 Colorado rivers closed because of high water flow (Denver Post)

Officials closed access points owned by city or state parks to two Colorado rivers Tuesday, citing high water flow dangerous to swimmers and riverbank visitors.

Those access points at Cache la Poudre River near Fort Collins and the Yampa River near Hayden will reopen when water flow drops to a level more typical of this time of year, said Jon Haukaas, a water engineer for Fort Collins.

Haukaas said officials closed access to the Poudre River after a rescuer looking for a stranded swimmer was trapped by hidden debris in the river. He said this incident, coupled with high water flow, prompted officials to close access even to shorelines, where currents are surprisingly powerful.

Link to full article below:

http://www.denverpost.com/news/ci_18227588?source=rss

Matt’s Rant: “Caution Required” is an understatement in regards to Colorado’s rivers and streams right now. High flowing water with poor clarity spells mayhem for those that may push their luck. In some cases you may not even be able to do that. Prudence says, “Know before you go”. So making a call after a few web-flow website checks may make all the difference.

Crappie slab out of nowhere

So I might do a little bit of fishing now and then. On this day the red tooner and I are in serious search mode for bass. Bad weather is finally lifting so the expectations are for big bucket mouths. At first I go big with skirted spinnerbaits that look downright sexy. No bites are found so the game is switched to searching deep and slow with fantastic plastics. No love there so the bait gets a color change-up and a downsize. This is a lot like putting a puzzle together with very few clues.

“Eventually I will get one of these fish to cough up some info.” I mumble to myself while rigging up a small baby bass fluke. “Probably a little early for this color pattern….eh. Give it a toss.”

Plink, plink, plink...dinker sized bass start coming out of woodwork. (Sometimes it takes a Mattsabasser a while to figure out what is the flavor of the day.) Each cast is met with a largemouth bass in the 10-12” category. Even though these fish are small it helps provide a few clues and some action. But as quickly as the bite seemed to start, it stopped and the action went back to zero.

“Maybe bring this up to a 5” baby bass…” The wheels in my head are still turning hoping to find the key while still casting the smaller fry pattern. “Maybe do it up in dropshot mode.”

Then seemingly out of nowhere I set the hook another bite. This feels slightly bigger than the others of the day but still well below a 5-pound pull. This fish will quite possibly be king of the dinker fish but still in dinker class. But as I pull the fish to the surface I see the dotted pattern and almost kite-like shape in the water.

“Hello, Mr. Slab!” I state with a bit of glee as panfish of this quality are an exception for me.

Put it back in the drink after the photo op and then switch up to the 4” baby bass and baitfish setups. The action seems to absolutely die and I am waiting on the bench for the love bus getting not so much as a honk or a wave. Wanting the big fish I continue to grind out the rest of the day with bigger baits.

After what seemed like several hours I finally get the heavy thump I have been waiting for. Set the hook and the fish starts its run before leaping out of the water once, then twice. It then races down under the boat. I was lucky enough to turn the head of the fish before it reached the anchor rope. From here I was able to keep the head aimed towards me and guided the lip to my hand.

Put the fish back and stop my pole from plopping into the water. Then the debate began in my mind whether the bucketmouth or the crappie would be the fish of the day.

“Crappie.” I acknowledged shortly after the gear up and heading home. “I might catch a few bass here and there but don’t see too many crappie slabs.”

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

After Work Trash Grab: Take Two

Picking up trash is an essential part of my fishing game plan but something that is tough to work into the schedule at times. This year I am way behind and scrambling to do both the cast as well as be a major player in the trash grab scene. The more I fish the urban side of things the more trash I see. It wears on me after a while and the places that used to treat me well get a good scrub.

4:45PM and I am looking to clock out, start the truck and hit some water. This was different than my usual after work cast grab. This would be an all out trash scrub scouring the shoreline for those oddments of refuse that was but one of the elements that had caused me to curse so badly on the last trip. Out of nowhere one of my seven bosses throws me that one last thing that could potentially take several hours to complete, which it does. This leaves me only a few hours of light before the sun slips behind the mountain divide trapping me in darkness.

“Looks like I only have time enough to cover the south edge and maybe trash cove.” I say reaching the lake and taking a look at the sun hanging just above the mountains.

The water level is still down and risen only slightly from the heavy rains. There is still a chance to remove a lot of junk that has been submerged keeping it out of reach. Most of the cans are rusted and full of mud. Wads and wads of fishing line pulled from rocks or wrapped around sticks were removed about every few yards. Broken glass was everywhere. It was the best I could do to pick up the large pieces (broken bottoms with the sharp edges pointing straight up) and what was nearby the small area of shatter.

Finally I reach Trash Cove. This is a small cove at the end of the lake that with wind and lake current collects a lot of debris. Cans and water bottles are fairly numerous along with tennis balls, tennis shoes and usually a dead animal of some kind. So much trash is submerged or buried in the moss that once you bend down to pick up one thing you see several more. Not exactly the serene setting you would like to see. The smell is just as bad sometimes if not a little worse.

The mud didn’t make the work any easier. This is the same place I did the mud bassin’ a few weeks past. When I first found the place back in 2005 the shoreline was a complete mess. Now I do a semi-yearly scrub and bag about 75% of a 33gal Hefty on the average. Some of this trash is left by wind. Another portion is due to juveniles. The rest is brought in from night traffic and accumulated over time.

The difference is many fold and may play out in ways that will never be seen. Less chemical particles from toxic containers and rusting metals is a good example. Not having the nearby homeowners tripping over trash and fishing line might quell the talks of closing this area to the public. At the very least the blight has been removed for now.

Good luck and good fishing

Chasing smallmouth to the end of the world

A few people at the office planned end of the world parties for Friday and Saturday. I sorted through my gear decided to hunt for some smallmouth. The largemouth bass fishing has been a lot like that Katy Perry song Hot and Cold something, something…no I am not going to sing it for you.

The last few days have been spent hitting this pond or that pond tracking all over the place for active fish. Saturday was starting out the same way. First place I come to and the fishing action is slightly worse than terrible. There are no fish to be seen and search casts come up empty. Most of my focus is for largemouth bass in prime prespawn form. But I will dance with whatever fish is the groove.

Not really tucked away are a few ponds that sport a mix of bass in both largemouth and smallmouth variety. No boating allowed so I have to do a bit of casting in shorebang in mode. Casting out the fantastic plastics the line gets a hit so hard that I nearly swallow my gum. After I get in a decent hookset the drag is loosened a bit for the sporadic tugs that followed. Land the fish and it is a beauty smallmouth. Pound for pound this one of my favorite species.

Do the photo op and search for more fish. None to be had. That was the only bite that I received all day. Sight-mode, search mode…neither option seemed to offer a glimmer of hope. Fantastic plastics gave way to crankbaits, a few spinnerbaits and then a few spoons to go far and deep. By 10AM the wind, my nemesis for 2011 it seems, showed up around noon turning the water into heavy chop. After 30 more minutes of casting I head out and dig the sand and light dirt out of my eyes while driving home. 

For smallmouth I typically use the same gear for largemouth but downsize it. 2-4” plastics that represent crawdad or baitfish patterns are my favorite but will drop down to 1\8oz jigs if things get desperate. But this is generally if I am targeting them exclusively. A lot of the time I catch smallmouth and even crappie when I am fishing for largemouth bass. The trick here is to bring the size down a smidgen to match the smaller mouth size. Smallies and crappies will go for a 3”-4” bait if they are aggressive. If I think there is a chance at either of these fish along with largemouth bass I might go with a 4” grub or stickbait to try for the best of both worlds.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

The rank of slinger

Sling-er (noun) Definition: a person that slings things. (Not sure why I expected a little more from Webster’s but a simple answer is usually best understood.)

We all can agree that angling comes in many different forms and styles. Colorado has quite the population of fishing brethren whether it be the small stream fly casters, big lake boaters or the leisure shore lounging crowd. These differences do not make one of us better than the other. They are simply differences. Within each person lies the various measure of skill level or the manner of fishing ethics that are employed. Having said that I do feel as if there are different ranks. Like designated positions on a team they act with purpose to get the fishing job done.

One of the more serious anglers out there is the shoreline “slinger”. Casting is their forte’ whether it be precisely skipping lures under over hanging tree branches or long distance search cast mode. Scouring the shoreline they do not seek awards, trophies or even eat the fish they catch. They also don’t use words like relaxing or fun when re-telling their adventures of success and failure. A slinger has slung ten thousand casts ten thousand times re-spooling as often as necessary. For those anglers willing to fish the areas furthest from the parking lot I offer a salute and recognize the rank of slinger.

(Above: My version of a sports card for no-name anglers that fish with a level of intensity that rivals that of any tournament angler. Still working on the B-Side of this card with the graphics team. Ok, not really. These guys barely clock in anymore.)

Once again, one rank is no better than the other in the overall scope of the universe and fishing. They all catch fish on any given day or the other. The love of the outdoor experience and the dream of one more cast helps fuel our passion for the sport.

Good luck and good fishing.

Tough go morning

Ever have one of those mornings where virtually everything goes wrong? Pain and some level of masochistic torture follows me on nearly every trip but this one was remarkably difficult for some reason. Some days it seems that I can run through the jungle with scissors in both hands emerging on the other aside without a scratch. Other days I can’t leave the house without coming home looking like something the cat dragged in and then spat out.

Get up early, start the coffee, jump-start my brain and stumble out the door with two rods, tackle bag and fishing shoes. The goal is to find bass in the shallows or at the very least see if they are moving in.

“Should have the place all to myself.” I exclaim with brimming anticipation.

But as I roll into the parking lot I see an SUV and an angler walking out. This means he managed to get up even earlier and may have done a lake lap bruising lips all the way around. This could make the fish ultra stubborn or at the very least wary. Approaching the first area there was evidence that this would be the case. A large male had moved in to nest and its lip was already marked with a black splotch indicating a fresh catch and release.

At the parking lot I had freshly tied on a skirted jig and dressed it with a plastic craw trailer. The jig combo looked absolutely delicious and the knot went on smooth and clean. First cast at the fish and I hook up on someone’s 30lb braided line. The jig is danced every which way but refuses to come loose. One heavy pull and my line snaps with the only three or four feet from shore. Dressed in work clothes I couldn’t wade in and retrieve the lure that would never see a fish otherwise.

“&#$%!” I blurt out watching the lure sink two feet to the bottom. “People gotta fish with %$#@& rope now!?!”

And it all goes downhill from here…

I take two steps moving down the shoreline and get wrapped up in several yards of yet more braided line. The more I tried to step out of it, the more I got tangled. Frustration started to well up in my brain causing the gray overcast skies to look red as blood. A few more hard kicks and twists of my feet and I was practically hog tied.

“Oh this is how its going be?” I start cursing myself.

Realize at this point I fully grasp my error in struggling. I should have started unwinding myself meticulously by hand instead. Now I was really in a pickle. With no other option I knelt down on the wet grass and started cutting the line with my pliers. This proved to be no easy task. Shifting from one knee to other nearly half an hour was spent removing the material probably better suited for towing vehicles rather than catching fish. Every bit was collected and shoved into the pocket of my slacks.

“Sweet!!!!” I exclaim in frustration. “Got $#%^# all over my slacks. Thanks Mr. Braid thrower. Glad I pick up your %$#&@ crap.”

Make my way over to the northwest side of the lake that is guarded by a steep cliff that varies from 10 to 20 feet in height. Thick tree line forces anglers to pick spots very carefully. Three feet from shore I see a bass musing around a clump of wood structure. With only a thin alley of open space to cast through I unhook the less delicious looking grub on the second rod preparing to throw. Turn slightly to check the casting area behind me for obstacles and manage to wrap the grub around one of the many branches in front of me. Its not completely looped so I give it a small tug. It breaks free from that branch but magically flies several feet completely wrapping itself around yet another branch. My eyes witness the lure loop over and over the branch like a Maypole. Several more moments were spent unwrapping the lure. Upon inspection of the line shows signs of abrasion. No choice but to trim and re-tie.

“Oh man…not today. Not this morning. I don’t have time for this &^%#@#.”

Re-tied I cast out. The cast is flubbed by a finger on my left hand and the lure is caught in the brush just inches from the water. No choice but to walk down and unhook it. This spooks the fish and the opportunity is lost. A deep breath is taken and I move silently down the shoreline pat the section obscured in Russian olive trees.

Beyond the thorn-wall of trees the cliff rose even higher shaping itself into the edge of a subtle cove. This area was overgrown by immense cottonwood trees. The roots clung to the cliff like heavy giant fingers while the rest towered above leaning towards the open sky above the lake for additional sunlight. It was there that I saw them. Three dark shadows following one large brown shadow moving slowly under some large overhanging branches. My heart leaped in my throat while moving to an open spot to cast. With some additional time before they reached me I was able to shuffle down the cliff edge about halfway before flipping the grub just outside the edge of the branches.

The shadows continued to move into the casting area. It was clear to see that these were three big largemouth bass palling around with a 10-15lb carp. The behavior could be the tail end of a phenomenon I call “The Gathering”. [It is my belief that largemouth bass will group together in as large as numbers as possible before breaking off into breeding pairs. Yes, I come up with a lot of crazy stuff but this is something I tend to witness on an annual basis more so on smaller ponds with less pressure. Just a theory. Not bonafide by science or anything.] As these fish are moving further from the branches two of the bass separate from the group and make a run for the grub. I give the grub just a small twitch for movement as it drifts slowly downward. The larger of the two fish is enticed and makes her move.

My cliff vantage let’s me see the strike close up. The enormous bucket-like mouth snaps out and sucks in the grub with a quick implosion of air. At that point it should be money, right? Just set the hook and ride that pony to the dance. Not this day. Not this morning. I set the hook and run down to the shoreline while reeling in like crazy. (It is ridiculous how many times I do this a year.) Plant my feet at the edge with no slack in the line. Fish still hanging on and only a foot away from the shore. One foot out the fish miraculously bumps its face on one of the submerged logs and knocks the hook right out of its lip.

I just stood there for a second surrounded by trees as the shadows moved on minus one.

“Get to the next spot!” the voice in my head screams. “Hurry!”

My shoes scramble up the hill and end up slipping on the wet soil. I slide two feet down the hill completely trashing my slacks. Now my frustration becomes delirium and I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or jump in the @#$#% lake. Get back to the top of the cliff somehow with all of my gear and start considering the next move.

“Smooth move. You didn’t bring a change of clothes. Still some water left. Might as well finish it out.”

Still chasing the shadows I see them around the next bend but no option to cast through the trees. Then the squadron formation banked right and headed for deeper water. In moments they vanished completely. The rest of my tour was fruitless passing around another small cove and picking up a few hundred feet of line.

“This guy must have re-lined his pole right here on the shore. Pretty cool leaving all this @#$%^ around. @%%  #$%$#!!!!

Picking up the line made me feel a lot better actually but the swearing didn’t seem to help at all. Fact of the matter I was a complete mess by the time I got to the truck and finally rolled into the office before Lumbergs do their 8:30 sweep.

“Holy cow! What happened to you!?!” most popular greeting of the day.

“Changing a tire?” Man I need to work on my excuses for fishing.

“Well it looks like the tire won.”

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

Colorado Wildlife Commission opposes artist Christo's "Over the River" project

Matt’s Rant: There is art and then there is absurd. Who the @#$%^ does this Christo guy think he is? No natural landmark or destination is sacred to Mr. Christo and his "art". This project has some serious financial backing from the east coast and others making it difficult to stifle. Hopefully the latest non-support vote from the Colorado Wildlife Commission will kill this endeavor once and for all. The audacity of some humans. We don’t deserve a planet as awesome as this if we are just going to @#$% it all up.

(Above: Here is Christo going over the project with the one person that really enjoys his work. Maybe I just don’t have enough of culture.”)

SALIDA — The Colorado Wildlife Commission has seen enough. As far as the nine voting members of the commission are concerned, it's hasta la vista for "Over the River."

With a bold, decisive stroke of the pen, the Wildlife Commission, which is charged with protecting, preserving and enhancing the wildlife and wildlife habitat in Colorado, stands unanimously opposed to the controversial landscape art project known as "Over the River" proposed by Bulgarian-born artist Christo.
After listening to measures proposed to minimize impacts to wildlife that were created by the grandiose art project, the governor-appointed commission drafted a letter to Colorado's Bureau of Land Management director stating that it "opposes the Over the River project and any approval or permitting of the project by the BLM or any other jurisdiction."

"This is an inappropriate action that we cannot support," commissioner Dorothea Farris said before initiating the decree at the commission's monthly workshop in Salida last Thursday. "We have a responsibility to protect the wildlife."

Link to full article below:

http://www.denverpost.com/entertainment/ci_18036816?source=rss

Good luck and good fishing.

Shorebang Bettie

(Above: See? I do catch a decent fish once in a while, even from shore. This photo was brought to you by Catch and release practice. )

Normally I go into full on shameless bragging mode when it comes to a big fish picture. Due to one of my projects going into construction\deployment there just isn’t time for me to go all lip smackity smackity on this one. In fact, I am lucky to even have enough time to grab a few casts here and there. Normally I take a full week or even two off. My one or two regular viewers will have to settle for a  quick pic post and a little tidbit that may or may not help others out.

This time of year in Colorado when you see a small male bass guarding a round spot of tail-swept lake bottom, there might be a reason for it. Folks get a little silly when they see the protective fish so close to shore. What they may not realize is that there is usually a larger female lurking nearby. All that water flopping after the male just pushes her away.

This time of year, catch and release of the larger fish is crucial. Good luck and good fishing.

Photos from the field

Through my adventures photos are taken that never seem to make it into specific fish posts. To be honest, a lot of my fishing goes unseen or heard. Even though these pictures may not be ready for prime time fishing posts, I have found a way to fit them in an excerpt called “Photos from the field.”

May has fallen on Colorado with a bit of sunshine and winds leftover from March and April. I expected a soft warm blanket but instead was handed a whipped towel. There is no value in complaining about the wind but I still manage to find the time. These photos are a smattering of random shots taken between gusts and a few casts.

May 12^th 2011

(Above: This storm could have packed a real snow wallop had the temps dropped just a little bit lower. Flirting between rain and snow most of the metro\front range received a slight “dusting” of an inch or so. Higher up was dealt over a foot. Chains were required to go over the high mountain pass. Summer never comes for some places or is fleeting at best.)

Lil bunny

(Above: Our office is overrun with tiny bunnies right now as these little grass munchers make the most of our expensive landscape. I’m telling you. These things breed like rabbits.)

Wood Shrooms

(Above: I am guessing this is the Velvet Shank\Flammulina velutipes Tricholomataceae. Supposedly edible but I wasn’t brave enough to take a slice for tasting. Besides, the cluster of wood mushrooms looks pretty cool just the way it is.)

Two gals on a stroll

(Above: Two gals going for a sun-filled stroll on saddled brown ponies. As much as people love their cars there are still a few people that like things the old fashioned way and don’t mind the slower pace once in a while. Arvada has an equestrian tradition that still thrives. Drivers of petrol based automobile units slow down and smile as they tip their hat while yielding the right of way.)

Goslings…ok they are cute.

(Above: Geese are not my favorite parks resident in Colorado. To be honest they kinda mess things up here in regards to bacteria and other issues. Originally the deal was that they would just pass through. Instead flocks started moving in like a bunch of in-laws you were never really that crazy about to begun with. But I have to admit that these goslings are darn cute.)

Thank you so much for your views, rates and especially the amazing comments. This blog is fueled by your support.

Good luck and good fishing.

After Work Cast Grab

Rising temperatures and the absence of wind had my casting elbow twitching and otherwise acting up. Some addictions come with physical withdrawals and despite the cloudy weather and a 10-hour workday…a Mattsabasser must fish. At the closing bell I rocket out of the office and was headed to the closest water to grab a few casts before dark. I expected to see bass cruising in the shallows. Instead a few crappie decided to keep me entertained.

(Above: Small but beautiful crappie. These fish look as if they could be part of the tropical fish section in your local pet fish retailer.)

Not seeing bass in the shallows I decided to walk the shoreline and fish the structure. A few casts in and panfish start nipping at the big bucket-sized lure. A quick downsize later and I am plinking small crappie about every other cast. Most were small and measured under 9”. From the thin look of the sides my guess is that these fish were in post spawn mode.

“Shoulda tried this place a few weeks ago…dangit.”

(One of the smaller crappie telling the tale of the tape. I am not a big fan of putting fish on the ground and more or less scoff at pictures of fish that look as if they are breaded with dirt. Just trying to get an accurate measurement.)

Releasing crappie may perplex a few of my readers, as they understand how good these fish can taste. Tender, flaky white meat makes this fish highly sought after. So many of these fish end up on stringers that a once upon a time hot spot can be thinned out after constant and methodical pursuit. I submit to you video footage that is virtually unseen in the Colorado fishing world…someone actually letting crappie go.

After a few minutes and a handful of crappie the action stops and the spot is more or less burnt out. I throw the bass gear again before moving on but that is a no-go in the bite department. Stop at the next structure point and repeat the crappie success. This time I get into a few 10’s with a bit more body to them.

(Above: This fish looks white in color. Back in the day I would refer to this as a white crappie, which is a misidentification. White crappie have stripes, black crappie have dots. Now you know.)

The level of fishing action rose as the dim glowing ball of the sun fell lower and lower behind the clouded veil of gray. I had maybe an hour or two before it slipped behind the mountains shrouding the trail in darkness. With so much of the lake left to explore I kept casting like a frenzied lunatic that often resembles my overall fishing style. Another cast over a fallen tree submerged in water and another good-sized crappie reaches the hand. This time I try to improve on my fish measuring technique.

(Above: Here is a crappie that looks a bit more slabilicious. Harvesting of crappie can help the population if done responsibly. Most crappie hunters fish them until they are gone. That is why the call of a crappie angler is usually…”I’m looking for another good crappie spot”.)

Just before I am ready to move further down the shoreline I run one more cast on the edge of the structure hoping for another big slab. Then a slightly heavier hit comes as I drop the lure to the bottom. When I pull the fish to shore I see it is a bluegill. My first gill of the year.

(Above: Generally I identify bluegill vs. sunfish by their mouth. A bluegill has a much smaller mouth as where the sunfish has a mouth very similar to the crappie. Bluegill are a member of the sunfish family and can interbreed with other types of sunfish. This makes hybridization quite common.)

Now I have pushed the daylight of my after work cast grab nearly beyond the point of no return. Fumbling my way out of here in the dark would not be the most perilous trip I have taken but still comes with its dangers. A ticket from the local ranger for being here after dark would really put a damper on the day’s overall results.

“One more cast…over there…on the flat shelf…” I cheer myself on and give the lure another sling.

Bam! As soon as the bait hits the water I see a heavy twitch in the line as it races off to the deeper water. Set the hook and start cranking. Sploosh! The fish leaps out of the shallow water giving a fierce headshake. The fish tries to run a few times and nearly wraps itself around a submerged fence post. One more crank, lift the rod tip and the fish is in the hand. A solid bucket in the 16’er range and averaging about 3-pounds.

(Above: I kinda flubbed the shot a bit here due to impatience and lack of focus. Woulda been nice to close this post out with a beauty bucket shot. Always room for improvement. I lightened the picture up a bit to show the color of the fish.)

All in all this was not too shabby of an after work cast grab. I managed to pull off a hat trick of sorts and managed not to destroy my shoes this time. Getting into a mess of panfish was a complete surprise. The bucket at the end was all bonus.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

 

Oh Man…I think I broke blogger.

It has been so long since I have done any format tweaks that when some minor adjustments were made to my rusted old blog template the whole system went kaput. After re-wiring the waffle iron that I use for a modem the system finally booted back up. I didn’t lose any posts but did lose a ton of comments and my amazingly clever replies. Ok so I only lost one or two comments and my sort of clever responses to those. Not ever having thought of saving my comment replies…well…I will simply have to find the energy and time to redo them. Accept my sincerest apologies if I don’t remember exactly what I said the first time.

In closing, this Blogger malfunction could be my entire fault and maybe I will have to hire someone to do all of my format tweaks from here on out so this doesn’t happen again. Maybe then my blog would have blog rolls and a more professional looking layout. Then again it would probably cut into the fishing.

Good luck and good fishing.

Gray Day Bass and the Red Tooner…work with what you got.

Decided to limp the red tooner into some lake action despite the weekend cold front. Temperatures went from a near high 80-degrees on Friday to a low of 40 degrees by Saturday night. I was lucky to have the water still holding some of its warmth but the bass were hunkered down as opposed to cruising. Expectations went from slamtastic to “Oh man…this is going to be a lot like work”. Cold fronts can do a number on bass and today apparently was no exception.

Fish numbers were low and only one was respectable size. Due to layer upon layer of weed growth at this location my lure choice were deadstick style plastics such as the senko rigged weightless along with 3-4 inch grubs both Texas and Carolina rigged. All fish were caught either shallow in the weed structure or deep in the weed structure. The fish would hit the bait at the edge and at the bottom. One fish hit at the surface but that was just a lucky shot. I say this because it came at a time when the water was perfectly flat and it looked as if the clouds were going to break for a moment, which they never did. I ended up losing the fish in the weeds anyway so in retrospect it wasn’t that lucky.

The real champ of the day was the red tooner for holding air long enough for me to get a few hours of fishing in before going squishy on one side. The red tooner is much more pontoon compared to that of the green kick-boat. Even the trailer fits on the back better.

Rather than tearing apart the right side tooner for the fourth or fifth time and looking for the mystery leak I have decided to just go this year limping in. I will still use the green machine as it is a great kickboat but the red tooner will continue to see some water. Suffice to say that when faced with cold fronts and leaky tooners there is little choice but to work with what you got.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.

“Brown Water Bail!” (You probably had to be there)

Prologue: Every once in a while an incident occurs that ends up being one of those “inside jokes” that no one else will understand and they look at you in confusion every time it comes up. This pointless and non-fish bragging post is a story of one of those moments. I will do my best to recount this moment for the small handful of regular viewers. But without having been there the brown water bail concept may fall a bit short.

Brown Water Bail

One day Don and I rolled out to one of our prime time lakes trying to get a jump on the early season. The water was cold and stained from heavy rains and spring run off. Stained water is my least favorite and it put me in panic mode right off the bat. After 30 minutes of no bites I was trying to convince Don that we needed to get off the “hot spot” and haul everything to another venue.

“Dude…we need to start thinking about a Plan B.”

“Huh?” Don says with startled amazement. “Pull off of here? Go where?”

I could see that this would be no easy sell. Looking at the cold stained water my worry and lament grew.

“The water is really brown. If I don’t start seeing fish soon…we need to bail.”

Not more than 30-minutes later the sun peeked out of the clouds and the extra light kicked the action into high gear. We were landing fish right and left with some good-sized ones as well. Don looked at me with that expression as if my mental faculties were now in question.

“I can’t believe you wanted to pull off this water.”

“Yea, man. I went kinda Chicken Little for a second. The brown water and slow morning action…not a big fan of stained water.”

Don chuckles and then goes into a shriek-like turkey call, “Brown Water Bail! Brown Water Bail!”

I nearly hit the deck of my pontoon boat in laughter. Couldn’t even fish for the next 5-minutes. Now every time one of us sees the other waning in fear and self-doubt a call is given in the sprit of Chicken Little that day on stained water.

“Brown Water Bail! Brown Water Bail!”

Guess you had to be there.

Good luck and good fishing.

Trash pick up 2011…just getting started.

Weather is always a factor when it comes to my relentless pursuit of fish. But weather also plays havoc on my clean up trips. In recent years I have had a period of warm\dry weather at the end of January or even into February that has allowed me to do a good scrub at places I fish. This year I am playing catch up and just getting started. Better late than never.

(Above: Yours truly “mean mugging” it up with a fist full of trash. This was a quick trash grab on the creek after work. A little bit goes a long ways and I am just getting started. Better late than never.)

For whatever reason 2011 has been met with lots of cold, heavy wind, some more wind and then the wind really kicks up. The ground has been frozen or otherwise muddy making the trash pickup scene a lot less pleasurable. Seeing the newly hatched goslings I realized the trash removal is severely tardy for 2011. Wind or no wind…I was going to have to dig in.

Wind is one of the largest culprits when it comes to refuse on the shoreline of Front Range ponds. All it takes is one open dumpster, a tipped trashcan or even a spilled backpack to spray leaflets of pain all across the landscape. Rather than picking up the homework, little Timmy will simply take the “F”. A stiff breeze comes along and all of this refuse will end up at the one spot I plan to fish that day. The wind is so bad this year that I am finding license plates and other oddments from as far off as Nevada or even California.

One of the things that have brought me good fortune in regards to my fishing is trash pickup at places on a semi-annual basis. When people ask me, “Matt what is your secret for your fishing success?” I will often refer to the trash pickups and adopting a handful of urban lakes that fish better as a result of this practice. Or at least it seems that way.

Good luck and good fishing.

Don lands Monster Bucket.

So this Don guy that I fish with on occasion gets into some amazing fish. Saturday we are out on one of those lakes that requires a bit of driving to reach. Only minutes into the day and Don sticks the hookset on a huge largemouth bass. Seconds into the battle I turn my head to see the fish leap out of the water.

“Oh man…” I mutter under my breath with baited anticipation. “…you gotta land that fish.”

(Above: Here’s Don offering a few seconds for the photo op before letting the fish go. Admittedly Don is not nearly the fan of the shameless bragging as I am. Great fish!)

Don goes through some of the most dramatic highs and lows in regards to fishing that I have ever seen. For weeks he may be in a terrible slump only to bounce back with a jaw dropping huge fish catch the next day. This year started off pretty rough for the guy. This fish is a little bit of payback. Earlier fishing slump? The slump is in that fish’s gut!

This fish was caught using a black colored swim bait pattern. I may or may not elaborate on this pattern in subsequent posts. For now I will simply let Don soak up some of the shameless bragging and post a video of the release.

  

Good luck and good fishing.

Painted Turtle-a video short

While doing the evening cast for some mud bass I managed to catch and release a small painted turtle. These video shorts may or may not make into later video montages so I might as well post them when they are created and milk an extra post on the fishing blogilicious.

After so many years of fishing and coming across turtles I am starting to think that these creatures find me for some reason. Respecting nature means respecting all of nature, even turtles.

The sound was lost somewhere in the editing process. Maybe its time to update my ancient movie making software. Thanks for watching. Good luck and good fishing.

Mud Bassin’…not the best idea I ever had.

After leaving work I drive to a small pond for an evening shorebang cast. When I reach the water my throat gasps at how low the water levels have gotten. It has been a little over a year since visiting this place last and the reduction in volume was a bit unsettling. Still determined I walk the shoreline and immediately step into search cast mode.

The south side of the lake has gravel and rock structure that was easy enough to navigate. But step beyond the rocks and your foot sinks as if you were in quicksand. Halfway down the shoreline I make that mistake by trying to retrieve a piece of trash in the water. Within a blink of an eye I am up to my knee in mud on my left side.

“Well there goes a pair of shoes…maybe the slacks too.” I mutter digging myself out. Later I repeat the same action chasing a small painted turtle.

Then I reach the other side of the lake that is void of any rock or gravel structure save for a few odds and ends. My feet are forced a distance from the shoreline for fear of mud. I see a large swirl in the water in front of me signaling an attack of a predator fish onto something munchy. Sling out just past the boil and begin the retrieve. Nothing hits as I roll the lure through the sweet spot. About ten feet from shore the line signals a heavy hit. Wham! I swing back on the rod tip, feel the heavy tug. I fight the fish for a whole two seconds before it shakes the hook. A few feet further down I cast and repeat the same instance on yet another fish. Missing fish sends me into a spiraling tailspin of frustration. Taking deep breaths I manage to calm myself, take some moss off the bait and sling it out again. Another bite and this time I set the hook right on the first chomp. A fish battle ensues and the reality then starts to sink in.

“Getting this fish is going to be a mess.” I say stepping in a foot of mud for the fish grab.

(Above: Beauty mud bass and this tire typically lies under several feet of water. You have to brave some serious mud to land these fish.)

Get the photo op taken care of and endure yet another trip into the murky stink of soft shoreline for as gentle a release as possible. This muck is nothing more than layers of sediment accumulated over time and has the consistency of butter. Upon releasing the fish I slip up and dip my tackle bag into the mud on one side. Turn quickly to try and minimize the damage simply making things worse. The bag graces my fishing reel, my slacks, pretty much smearing my left side with mud. One look at my reel and I knew I was out of the game…at least for tonight. Hopefully the reel cleans up nicely and slacks I can get anywhere. Fishing after work does come with some hazards apparently.

(Above: Here’s a shot of the entry\fish-land area with my footprints in view. Those prints go about a foot deep near the water’s edge.)

There are times when my fishing addiction is more obvious than others and even I have to admit that my activity borders on psychosis at times. After some pleading from my family and co-workers at one point in my life I met with a psychiatrist to see if there wasn’t some sort of help for my problem. 30 minutes into the session I show him a few fish pictures from the previous year (this was January at the time). He looks at me and starts babbling like a fish crazed goober.

“Wow…how big was that fish? Where did you catch it? Can you take me fishing? I need to fish more…”

It was everything I could do to leave his office without adopting a tag along for next Saturday.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.