Exploring

All of us who love the outdoors have some explorer in us. We may have our favorite places, but we always wonder what's down the road or over the next ridge. When you're new to an area you really have no choice but to explore, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I explored a new lake today. It's Yellowwood Lake, an impoundment in the Yellowwood State Forest in Brown County. This is just one of the beautiful areas I am fortunate to live near. Like all the state forests, it provides access to hiking, fishing, hunting, and camping--and just going out to surround yourself with tall trees and listen to the birds and the breeze.

Today's trip wasn't an in-depth exploration. That will come when I launch canoe or float tube and spend all day at it. No, it was really more of a scout. I was looking for some accessible shoreline complete with hungry bluegills so I can take Sebastian and his cousin Iris fishing together.

I started at a lovely little boat ramp.

I was struck by the beauty of the lake.

I flipped a few buggy little flies out onto the still surface of the inlet, but didn't raise any bluegills.

I walked on around the shoreline for a ways to see what I could find. It's not accessible to fishing from the bank--too much vegetation--but it would be fun to fish it from offshore, especially at dusk.

I hiked back to the car through the October woods.

I drove along the lake to a camping and picnic area. The picnic pavilion took me back to childhood days.

They really built these things back in the day. The classic lines and stone construction made me feel like I was in a cathedral of the outdoors.

Some group--a family reunion, maybe--had used the main room earlier in the day. The coals in the massive fireplace were still nice and hot. It felt good on a cool Fall afternoon.

Down the hill from the pavilion were several openings providing good access to the lake.

Some, like the one I chose, were equipped with picnic tables. This would be perfect for the kids--if there are fish to be caught here.

This spot was spacious enough to allow a modest backcast, so I began to look for bluegills.

They were in there.

I settled in and fished for awhile. I tried a few bigger flies just in case there might be some bass lurking around.

The overcast broke up and the sun lit up the lake. I packed up to go, but I'll be back soon with Sebastian and Iris. This is the perfect place for a three-year-old and a four-year-old to drop their bobbers.

This lake, too, might be the perfect place for an old man to find some peace and solitude, and perhaps a bass or two, as well.

I don't know yet, for sure.

That will take some more exploring.

Underway

I dug through some boxes this afternoon and located all of my fly fishing equipment. That comes under the heading of "unpacking" so it was all good. It's just a coincidence that it means I can now actually go fishing with it.

It was a little poignant to clean off the fly patch on my vest. There before me was the record in flies of my 2016 Washington fishing season. When I finished removing all the flies I was left with the proverbial clean slate. Time to begin fly fishing in Indiana again.

Why not sooner than later? I slipped away after supper and headed to the nearby lake to stretch my casting muscles.

I began on the dock. It felt good to cast again. I had a 5X tippet on, and fished a few different small flies, from mayflies to griffith's gnats. I knew there were fish under the dock, but I was still convinced there could be bigger bluegill and maybe crappie, and maybe even bass, out in open water.

Dead drift, twitching, a slow strip, and even drowning the flies and stripping them in, brought no evidence of fish life. I tried a small muddler greased to float and again moved nothing. I wasn't so convinced anymore.

I crossed the causeway and cast the muddler out past the weed beds in the main lake. (My backcast was tailing out over the road behind me, so I had to watch for passing cars and bicycles. One cyclist hit his brakes hard enough to squeal the tires, but I would have missed him by a mile.)

The muddler got immediate attention, but it seemed that the fish hitting it were too small to get a grip on it. I tied on a little light caddis and caught the first fish in Indiana. Why not a bluegill for the first fish? You can bet it won't be the last bluegill.

With the coming of dusk the lake lit up. Fish were active all along the shoreline and in the weed beds. Some, I surmised, must be bass. I switched to a muddler and worked it. No bass this time, but one very feisty pumpkinseed managed to get its mouth around that big fly.

So the fly gear is out and organized, and the rod and my casting arm are limbered up. My 2016 Indiana fishing season is underway.