Ho Hum Tuesday run

Not much to brag about on this run and the entry of this post will sound a bit “ramblish”. I have a habit of dumping the post on trips like this adding to the pile of untold fishing adventures. Sometimes I pour my heart and soul into a post where as other times it takes everything I have just to write something up. This is one of those times.

The fish get smaller and smaller every year in regards to northern pike at this location. The cold front that sat right on top of my Tuesday run might have slowed things down a little as well. Each year gets tougher and tougher to go back. A once great fishery has now become an “Ok” fishery with a few big fish left. For me it is just a way to get a yearly pike fix in and look in on this old friend.

The no wading rule until Memorial Day actually might have helped me actually. My lighter 6lb mono with the braided leader allowed me a few extra yards of distance. I caught a few fish but the action was nothing like what it used to be. This may in fact be a natural cycle of sorts as the predator fish have pretty much eaten themselves out of house and home. The more the pike decline, the more it allows for other species like bass and bluegill to take a stronger hold. Maybe then the pike will have a real chance to thrive without constant stockings that are a temporary fix at best.

Sorry for the jumbling of the camera on this one. Filming in one hand and holding the rod in the other is probably not the best way to go for getting pike footage. Just trying to jazz up this post as much as possible.

Oh and then there was this guy. Apparently disregarded all of the people telling him about the “no wading” policy. Two guys were yelling at him from shore while I was casting the heaviest gear in my bag.

“Knew I should have packed those 1/2oz spoons.” I muttered landing twenty feet or so away from Mr. Cowboy Wader who just kept casting as if no one was there.

Eventually someone found the number for the visitor center and called to report him. This was about the time Cowboy headed out and was walking swiftly down the dirt road. He seemed spooked as if nearly jumped by a gang of raccoons that are absolutely huge out here.

I had enough dejection and small pike for the day but still managed to cast again at a few usual spots on the way back. Not soon after rounding the large cove did I see a white truck racing along the dirt on the opposite side of the lake. Within minutes the truck reached our Cowboy friend and there seemed to be a lengthy discussion, possibly some paperwork was exchanged. Of all places to break the rules (and be so blatant about it) this situation was a case of “there is one in every crowd”.

The other lake “Mary” was a side note at best. I pulled two bass out of the cattails that were maybe 14’er inch class at best. Bad weather started kicking in turning the water to chop with a mix of light rain. Instead of grinding out the last few hours around the entire lake I concede to simply scrounging my casts around the docks. Jig combo pulled out a few bucketmouths but just like the big lake it is a far cry from what it was.

Managed to get to the truck and exit before the really bad weather hit. The storm actually fizzled out and ended up being harmless rain and drizzle. In hindsight I could have fished another hour or so with no problems. But tempting fate and Colorado weather is something I do too often. An extra hour might or might not have changed this post from “Ho-Hum” to “Oh Baby!”. This is one location where it could go either way and it only takes one fish.

My name is Matt and I’m a fishaholic.