|Cooling lakes, the savior of winter fishing|
Having already sworn off fish 'til spring, I surprised myself Thursday when a txt asked if I wanted to wet a line, a fly line no less. The surprise came with how little thought I gave the suggestion.
All in the name of "chasing the dragon" I guess.
I busted out the long underwear for the first time and layered up the torso and extremities. My truck's thermometer confirmed what I already suspected...I was going to freeze.
It pays to know fishing regulations. In my case, it paid to know people...who know other people who read the book. With duck season closed, Powerton is open again for fishing - from shore only. This was new information to me, but luckily there is a guy out there named Troy who is more addicted than me. And luckily Troy knows how to get in touch the The Mark. And The Mark has my phone number.
|To match, first you must catch|
Asian carp came into the lake during floods a few years ago. I was surprised to see the number of anglers trying to snag them. Apparently Asian carp chunks make great catfish bait and Powerton is a local legend for monster cats. The shore was littered with butchered carp
[Bloody Asian carp picture censored]
The crowd was light, much lighter than I've ever seen. I guess that just means there are fewer of us idiots around these days. One highlight of the day was an early exchange between The Mark and another angler:
Catfisher: You guys catching anything with those fly rods?
Mark: Not yet.
Catfisher: I didn't think you would.
|The intention, albeit a small example.|
It took a while to find a bite, but I figured it out and caught all five fish within the last hour. Fly selection didn't seem to matter as much as location....and when I struck gold a mob of three kids surrounded me. It was almost instant, and the little buggers did their best to get in my way. They learned damn quick to speak up before crossing my rear.
|4 hours, 25.0 miles and 6 degrees later|