When all else fails,
write a fishing report

I can tell when I’m preoccupied by issues that have nothing to do with fishing. Rather than expound on anything in general or in particular, I write fishing reports. They keep me writing, but require virtually no thought. I wrote a couple of them this week.

I should move north.

Based on reports showing up on Fox River fishing forums, those fishing further north are doing much better than those fishing further south. But then, it’s extremely rare that I see any reports of any Fox River fishing south of Geneva. I’m talking over the past 5 years, not just now. I know one guy who does pretty good not far from me and I think it’s a spot I used to fish over 10 years ago, but him and his spot will remain nameless.

I guess saying that is an insult to those that take the writing of their fishing reports seriously, but for me it’s routine. Go here, park there, walk to the river this way, use this, cast at that, current seams, laydowns, rock outcroppings and eventually whether or not a fish was caught. When words and letters are in your head like the opening salvo of a game of Scrabble, better to spell cat than attempt catatonic.

The water is still up a bit, but no big deal if you know where you’re going. Tuesday I decided to hit a half mile stretch near Orchard Road. The shore is one long eddy. Lots of rock and gravel along with downed trees and boulders.

I did get one carp to inhale a jig and twister right at the start, but after an agonizingly boring hour of nothing, I scrambled up the steep 30 foot bank and headed for a creek.

If I was going to continue to get skunked I was going to do it on a creek.

Did I mention the walk along the railroad tracks and the carpet of white wild flowers on the forest floor.

How about the smell of spring, that musty smell that comes up from thawed dirt and rotting vegetation. How about the ancient culvert holding up the railroad tracks, a continuous flow of water that seems to be coming from an endless spring.

Over the past week I’ve had the chance to check out 4 different creeks. All of them had hordes of bait fish in the shallows. Usually the smallmouth come in to feed on them before they get chased out by an onslaught of carp and suckers on their spawning run. One creek nine miles inland keeps producing smallies, but I think it’s because they are wintering over there. None of the other creeks are producing.

Along the creek I fished on Tuesday, which proved to be barren, is a small pond I have permission to fish. Here the fish finally turned on. Caught a number of good sized bluegills and missed quite a few more.

A few small largemouth were hooked and I had on two of the heaviest fish I’ve ever hooked in this pond. The biggest largemouth to date taken was about 2 pounds. These were considerably heavier than that. Of course the big ones always get away.

I wound up wandering through the woods quite a bit. The sculptural qualities of the the trees and vines are more apparent. Pretty soon a machete will be needed to do this type of wandering and it will be next to impossible to find things like this.

With the weather we’ve had over the past month, it seems that the smallie migration up the creeks is off to a late start. With the coming cold front for this weekend, it might get delayed again. These screwed up weather patterns make it hard to predict anything. I plan on hitting the creeks as often as possible in the next two weeks. One of those days should produce something.

The last stretch I hit, pretty much right at sunset, there were dimples on the water. Trout anglers would be salivating at the repetition of rings dimpling the surface. Here in Illinois, we scratch our heads and say to ourselves, what the hell is causing that? Nothing thrown, no matter how small, could hook a fish. Lots of nips, but no takers. That is a good sign though. Game fish next perhaps.

I know I brought this up last year. For the past 2 years, since a big flood we had on the Fox River in September 2008, something has changed. I’ve been fishing areas from Montgomery down to Millbrook that used to produce 15 to 30 fish days on a regular basis. With an occasional 50 fish day thrown in for good measure. I haven’t had a 15 fish day since that flood.

I can usually squeak out a fish on any given day, but the numbers days are gone. I’m hoping today’s foray on the river isn’t a sign for how the rest of the year is going to go.

I’m getting a little tired of that trend.

I guess a fishing report is better than nothing.