Next Time

Windy. Now and then a Great Blue Heron kites by. In the coves, Bluegill and Crappie fight over the fly. I'm not alone: kayakers slicing through the waves, and a boat full of what I take to be Crappie fishermen--big floats and what look like minnows underneath. I'm still dredging for bass, unsuccessfully this time. Next time.

Eat Sleep Fish, No. 65

stream river lake sea

HERE you go.

Patagonia Writes to Ryan Zinke, Secretary of the Interior

Voices of sanity: Yvon Chouinard, Founder of Patagonia, Inc., and Rose Marcario, President and CEO of Patagonia, Inc., have written to Secretary of the Interior Ryan Zinke who is currently "reviewing the status" of all National Monuments that encompass more than 100,000 acres.

We hope rational arguments in favor of public lands will win the day, but in the meantime rich and greedy sons of bitches are lining up to get their piece of the pie.

Read the letter HERE.

Advice

The trip begins with a pristine March Brown mayfly and ends with clouds of plump midges descending on me and the tube. I wish there were trout to tempt with a high floating MB imitation. I throw streamers instead and find the usual suspects. Meanwhile, another day unwinds until nightfall, and Spring displays one by one more of its marvels. At dark while I'm loading the pickup, another pickup pulls up. It's a young couple. They want to know how I did. They think the lake is overpopulated, say the bass run small. But they agree there just might be some big'uns in there. And when they say "bass" what they actually say is "largemouths and smallies." Smallies? Really? Where have they been keeping themselves? He looks at me and says, "Early morning. Get out here early morning. That's the best time..." Then nods--did he wink, too?--and drives off.

April Showers

Back in April I take a couple of hours to drive around Monroe Reservoir looking for float tube compatible access. I drive through rain, some heavy. Most of what I find are busy access points for the big boats that fit this big water. It's not what I'm looking for.

I do find an access point deep in the woods by a backwater. It's a channel out to the main lake. It could be fishable, but I can't really tell how wide it might get and how far it is to the main lake. It's raining again, so I save it for another day's exploration and head over to Yellowwood.

It has been wet everywhere else, but Yellowwood is bone dry when I get there--right up until I kick off the boat ramp. It turns out to be just a sprinkle.

I do the drill, combing the shorelines. I start on the eastern shoreline. There are fish to be found.

There are storms to the north and storms to the south, and thunder rumbles and rolls in the distance. I keep a weather eye out. After awhile I decide that the storms will miss the lake. I take a pee break and then tuck my rain jacket in my waders so I won't have to take it off next time.

I cross over and work my way back along the western shoreline. Bluegill are up and I go after them with a little muddler.

I've been watching the north and south, but now there's a flash of lightning and clap of thunder very close behind the wooded hills to the west. A storm rushes down the hill and lets go with everything it's got. It's a direct hit on the lake. I take "shelter" under a tree. I have my rain jacket on of course, but tucked in my waders it's useless. I get soaked under the unrelenting rain. Live and learn.

When the coast is clear I start up the shoreline again. A bass makes my day.

I kick slowly back to the take out watching the light show in the sky as another storm slides by to the north.

When I get home that storm is right over my house, and it's pouring down rain. I get wet one more time.