Sept 23
An hour before dawn, and thousands of deisel horses awake. This giant herd of semis rumbles to life, heading out in all directions across the US. Oddly enough, I am the only Bullship from Oregon in the whole mix.
I head down Hwy 41. Off onto Hwy 52 and I am thru Lafayette at dawn, right thru the Purdue campus. Onto Hwy 231 now. Just before I get to Crawfordsville I see a little railroad museum beside the road. For the Monon RR, same track that ran just beyond my dormitory window at Wabash.
There is a butterfly flitting around, a buckeye. Pretty drab and camo when it has its wings folded,
but flamboyant when it spreads them out.
Also some kind of a crescent butterfly.
Then I arrive in Cville, Elston Park boat landing on Sugar Creek. I learned how to go fishing with my dad and Uncle Lou. I learned how to catch fish at Wabash, on Sugar Creek and its tribs. Strictly a wade fishery, too shallow for boats. The Bullship is a nuisance here.
While I was attending Wabash, the stupidest human being to ever walk the earth was attending college at our arch rival school, De Pauw U, 30 miles S of Cville. Of course I can only be referring to Dan Quayle, whose father owned Eli Lilly Drug Co, the Indianapolis Star newspaper, and most of the rest of the state of Indiana. In those days they had the Indianapolis Star Big Fish Contest, with the winners posted every week for biggest fish caught of each species. I won the Big Fish Contest a few times for SM, once with a fish from Sugar Creek.
Elston Park is where they launch rental canoes for the float down to Shades State Park. As always, the creek looks really fishy.
First I must observe in Google Earth, before deciding where to fish. I find an internet cafe. Spend 2 hrs eating lunch and zooming around the county in Google Earth, checking out streams I waded over 40 years ago. Hoping to rent a canoe from Clements, same company that was here when I was in college.
I had remembered Sugar Creek as a much bigger stream. It is low now. But the water is not as clear as I remembered. Turns out they have been having a drought here, while Wis was receiving record rainfall. I check the hydrograph online. Water level was very low until the day before I got here, when it spiked way up suddenly. Must have had a storm. Same one that rained on me at Wrigley.
Very hot and muggy here today. They have not heard about the fall equinox. Over 90F, and 90 percent humidity.I drive around the edges of town, which has grown enormously since I was here. Giant strip mall S of town, with 24 hr Wal Mart. Biggest industry here was always the R. R. Donnelley printing plant. I did not return home to Chicago between my junior and senior years at Wabash. Stayed in Cville and worked at Donnelly’s. Printed out the 8 page color spreads for the Time – Life books on the nite shift and fished the day shift. Many new factories around town now, including a new Donnelley plant.
I get a fishing license. Only $35 here. $50 for a non resident in Wis, $80 in BC and $100 in Cal. Bargain here. On the way around town I cross a tiny stream I used to fish in, the Walnut Fork of Little Sugar Creek.
Shoals of small fish are milling around. Lots of bass food in here. Some of the fish are 8″ long. Can’t tell what kind they are.By the time I get done checking the town out the sun is setting. I go back to Elston Park, tie on a small rap, and wade out into the creek. Feels so soothing to get into the water on this hot day. Creek is very shallow here, but I keep casting.
Need to get into the zen of throwing the rap around while wading. Should only be small fish in this shallow pool. And a nice SM busts the rap in the first tailout! First Sugar Creek SM for me in over 40 years.
I get a fishing license. Only $35 here. $50 for a non resident in Wis, $80 in BC and $100 in Cal. Bargain here. On the way around town I cross a tiny stream I used to fish in, the Walnut Fork of Little Sugar Creek.
Then I get up to the tailout of a deeper pool, Should be a bigger fish here. YES! A beauty Sugar Creek smallie. After all these years I have called my shot. Within the city limits no less. Only a pound and a half, but worth more to me than a dozen big slabs from a lakes on Van Isle.
I keep wading upstream, but get no more hits on the rap. As if the first fish hit just to say hello. Welcome me back to Sugar Creek. Not gonna be so easy from now on. Finally I get to the dam by the power plant in Cville. Some big fish lurk in the hole under the dam. This dam would be a good one to remove. What purpose does it serve nowadays?
Just before dark I get another nice fish under the dam, then get a snarl too messy to deal with until tomorrow. I head back to the car, refreshed, ecstatic. In all the fishing I have ever done nothing compares to the challenge of wading these small streams. This is the kind of fishing Henshall wrote about in his Book of the Black Bass. The kind of fishing Canadian humorist Stephen Leacock wrote about in his treatise on the wily bass. Feels fine to be back home in Indiana.
Sept 24
I drive back down to Elston Park at dawn, wade in and head downstream this time. Great looking pool at the first bend, but get no hits.
It is screaming windy today, but the wind is no problem down in the creek bottom. More good looking water downstream.
The water is clearing today. Ths cloudiness yesterday was only the result of the recent rain. Creek is dropping and clearing fast. Fun to fish here even if you don’t catch anything.
Very hard to fool the wily bass into coming up for a surface hit in this clear, shallow water. This creek gets fished often and hard. Every large bass in it has been fooled by the rap at least once. The big fish learn quickly. Need to switch to another tactic. I was just a punk kid from Chicago, when I fished here last. Throwing a rap was the only trick I knew. But now I am an adult, with a liberal arts deegree from a prestigious midwestern institution of higher learning. Need to switch to something else, like soft plastics. But I don't have anything else with me.
Since the fish will not hit the rap I take pics of butterflies. They are all over here. Butterfly season is done on the Menominee already - too cold. But here it is still summer. A bit cooler today, but still warm & muggy.
There are butterflies all over on the gravel bars. Not feeding, just hanging out, enjoying the late summer weather. Lots of Hackberry butterflies landing on the gravel.
Mixed in with more buckeyes.
There are silver spotted skippers, that set their wings upon landing like fighter jets on an aircarft carrier.
The silver spot is on the underside of the wing.
Some really tiny guys are flying around.
Don't know what they are - maybe some kind of crescent? Used to know all the butterflies around here, but my memory is fading.
Fishless, I head back to Elston Park. There is a red spotted purple there. Perhaps the most spectacularly colored N American butterfly. But this one is really beat up. Had a rough life, that will end soon. Looks like it was nearly caught for dinner by a bird. I must find a bright fresh one and take pic to laod into this blog.
I will drive down to Shades State Park, to see if I can rent a canoe. Clements Canoes has moved there from Cville. Used to rent their grumman aluminum canoes when I went to Wabash. We would float down little creeks during spring high water, streams that no else canoed down. My buddy's brother and his friend came along with us once. First time in canoes for them. They went around a bend and we heard screaming. Hit right into a barbed wire fence stretched across the creek. Later they flipped, and the canoe caught on a rock and broke almost in half. Split the sides wide open. I jumped up and down on the canoe to straighten it out, and then we stuffed T shirts into the split open sides to keep the water out. Pretty creative solution to a difficult problem. Made it another 20 miles down to our car, but they had to buy Clements another canoe. They never went canoeing with us again.
I cross the Hwy 32 bridge heading out of Cville. This is such a pretty creek you don't even mind if the fish are not biting.
Take tiny roads downstream, looking for bridges and access points. Only find one between Cville and the Shades. There is an old covered bridge near Shades.
Lots of butterflies here too.
There is a wooly bear caterpillar crawling across the road. Many are squished by cars before they get across, but this one has help. It is so windy today that he can only crawl a few inches before the wind blows him off his little feet, rolls him a few inches, and then he starts crawling again. The old wives tail says that you can tell how cold the coming winter will be according to the different amount of brown vs black portions on the hairy creeper. This one is all brown, so it will either be very warm or very cold this winter - I have forgotten which. But what do old wives know about the future weather anyway?
Turns out that my fantasy of a canoe float trip is not going to happen. The creek is so low that it is too shallow for canoes. They are only doing runs along a few miles of creek above Shades. I will have to wade if I am going to fish Sugar Creek.
I drive back to Cville, and then head upstream to Darlington.
The great green cornfields I have been travelling thru from Idaho to Indiana are dead now, getting harvested now. Might be 90F outisde, but summer is over for the corn.
Lye Creek flows into Sugar Creek here. Lye Creek is too small to hold decent bass, and everyone knew it, so nobody fished it. Except me. I wade up Sugar Creek from the bridge. Flat bedrock here, too shallow to hold bass. Then I come to the mouth of Lye Creek.
In this low water it is only about 8 ft wide and 3-4 inches deep in the riffles between the pools.
But I know there are some bigger pools upstream. The bss used to be very agressive in here, cuz nobody (except me and kids that didn't know any better ever fished for them. In my memory the pool above the mouth looks good, but is to shallow for anything but tiny fish. I catch a tiny SM there right away.
Further up is a bigger, deeper pool. Used to hold SM up to 2 lbs, and bigger.
This is absolute steath fishing. Must creep low, silent - any noise or movement will spook these fish. Seems like there just cannot be any decent bass in a creek this tiny, but I know better. A number of logs have washed into this pool now.
I throw the rap up near them and give it a twitch. A huge boil, my lure is grabbed. Fish on! Impossibly big fish for a stream this small. I am using Mitchell reels nowadays, just like I did when I was a kid. Fairly good quality, fairly cheap price, with a poor drag setup. Nowadays the drags are worse. Keep coming undone. Must remember to keep resetting the drag all the time, or it will loosen off and you will loose fish when they hit. Cannot set the hook without a good drag. The fish gets off.
Cannot be another one like that in this tiny pool, but I cast up near the logs again. Another nice SM charges out and hammers the rap. I lose it too. Then another. These fish are wild. Like they have never seen a lure before. Finally I clue into the problem and reset the drag. Throw way up past the logs and get hit again! This one jumps sky high, but cannot shake off. A real trophy for this tiny creek under these low water conditions.
Cannot be another one like that in this tiny pool, but I cast up near the logs again. Another nice SM charges out and hammers the rap. I lose it too. Then another. These fish are wild. Like they have never seen a lure before. Finally I clue into the problem and reset the drag. Throw way up past the logs and get hit again! This one jumps sky high, but cannot shake off. A real trophy for this tiny creek under these low water conditions.
I head up to the next pool.
Another surface hit at the tailout. Again there are wild rushes from psycho SMs. I miss 2 and catch 1. Then head back down to the big creek. There is a deep pool at the bend. Looks good but I snag on the far side. Takes me 20 minutes to wade around and retrieve may rap. Getting dark now. Must be way more fish in these big pools, but the fish in Sugar Creek are way smarter too. Get way more fishing pressure. Know all about the rap. No bites in this pool. Must wade another 1/4 mile upstream to find the next pool. Just before dark I get another nice fish on the rap. Biggest one yet. No pic cuz I left the camera downstream. I wade back down in the growing dark. Wonderful feeling of satisfaction to come back and wade this beautiful stream.
On the road back to town I blow out the right rear tire on the Volvox. Change it in the dark, and head back to Cville. Was planning to sleep in the rest stop W of town, but now I have no spare, so I park in the Wal Mart lot and sleep in the car.
Sept 25
I head W from town to the Hwy 32 bridge. Today I will introduce the fish of Sugar Creek to the wonders of the Yum Worm. I fished with plastic worms as a kid, but always got snagged when I threw one into a spot where a bass might like to hang out. Not until late in life did I discover the Texas rig, which uses an offset hook. Gary Yamamoto from Lake Mead invented the Senko worm, which is almost weedless and snagless when hooked with a Texas rig. This revolutionized bass fishing. There are many copies and variants of the Senko worm. I refuse to use Senkos any more, because they are too soft, come off the hook too easily. You often get only 1 bite before you lose the worm. I use Yum worms, which are a little sturdier. If I had to catch bass to survive, and had to select only 1 lure to use, it would be a black Yum worm. Cannot carry a big tackle box with you when you are wading. Cannot have 9 fully rigged rods laid out across the bow of your boat like the bass pros. Need to travel light.
There is a spring that coms out of the hill here. I remember that it is cold and delicious water, so I fill my water jugs. Runs off the cliff over a big rock.
Beautiful spot.
Wish the locals didn’t sump their garbage over the cliff here. Big green sacks of garbage are rotting everywhere.
I have the yum worm tied on, but the pool under the bridge looks so calm and fishy I decide I must try some topwater, so I replace the worm with a rap. Wade down and throw the rap all over some nice cutbank, but get no hits. The fish in this creek are wise to the phony balsa wood minnow trick. I tie the worm back on and head upstream. Too shallow until I come to the first bend, where there is a deeper slot. Should be fish here.
I have caught a thousand bass on these worms, but never fished one in moving water before. It is a very delicate propsition. Must cast upstream, and let the lure drift back to you. Keep feeling the worm so you know when a fish bites, but cannot interfere with the natural drift of the worm or the wily bass will get suspicious. Much like fly fishing with a streamer. Must mend the line if you are fishing across the current. Feels like this should be a deadly method of fooling these fish if you do it right.
A big fish rolls on the worm, but does not bite. Right in front of me. I knew this would work! Then I get bit. A small fish, but my first ever Sugar Creek bass on a Yum worm.
I am onto them now. They might be too smart to fool with a rap, but they are not too smart to fool a Wabash honor scholar with a Yum worm. The dolomieus are in for a rough day.
Bass are feeding agressively now. Big swirls as they chase the hapless minnows. I miss a good strike. Big fish. Cannot even turn its head. There is another spot here that I remember. A big shelf of sedimentary rock juts out in mid channel, undercut by the current which has jammed big logs into the overhang. Killer spot for a big bass to hang out, but I spook it before I can get into position to drift a worm into it.
At the next pool I get hit right away, by a fish hanging in the tailout. Nice 2 lber.
These fish will rue the day they met up with the Oregonian and his Yum worm. A great looking run up ahead, deep against the far bank.
The Yum worm does its job.
This is exceptional fishing. Stalking nice SMs in clear shallow water. Must be absolutely in tune with the stream and the environment to have any hope of catching fish like this on a clear sunny day. It was a bad day in the bass world when Gary Yamamoto invented the Senko. Another superb pool ahead.
And another beauty SM.
I am missing 2 good fish for every one I catch. Getting hits at almost every good spot. They humiliated me yesterday morn, but today they are foolishly getting suckered on the rubber worm trick again and again. In all the times I fished here I never had such steady action from so many decent fish. Nothing big, and they are very skinny compared to lake fish, or even the fish from the Wisconsin or Menominee. But very active and strong.
Getting near noon now. Time to turn back. I stop at a long pool where the creek cuts into a shale bank.
Wonderful morning. Weather is perfect, maybe 80F. Butterflies swarming around the gravel bars, frolicking in the end of summer.
A comma butterfly, relative of the question mark, lands on the gravel. There is only 1 species of question mark, but many species of commas. I don’t know which one this is.
There are tiny yellow butterflies. It is the dainty sulfur, one of the most miniscule butterflies in N America.
I hike back to the car. Already 1:30 PM. I had forgotten what a workout you get from wading up these small rocky streams. I am only wearing flip flops. Fighting up against the current, feeling the bottom for a secure foothold on loose rock, always struggling for balance. Just like when I used to do this 40 years ago, I do not realize how tired I am until I get back to the car. I can walk thru the forest, climb up steep banks, wade thru boulder riffles and my feet feel fine. Do it for hours and feel no pain. But if I walk on pavement my feet and ankles start to hurt within 2 blocks. But today when I get back to the car my entire feet/ankle/lower legs are stressed. My whole body is tired from the workout.
I head back into town. Forgot that I wanted to get back before 1 PM. There must be a Wabash home football game, because the rates are high at the motels this weekend, I checked. Even tho it only has a total of about 800 students, and offers no athletic scholarships, Wabash is a perennial Div III NCAA football powerhouse. I turn on the radio and find the game in progress. Wabash is playing Univ of Chicago, enrollment = 14,000. The game is no contest. Still in the first quarter, and Wabash is ahead 17-0. I drive into town past the stadium. The hallowed Wabash tradition of hanging out on the RR tracks during the game is still ongoing.
I park downtown and walk back the few blocks to school. Up to the front entrance.
Wabash was founded the same year as St Nanzianz in Wis.
Wabash was founded the same year as St Nanzianz in Wis.
There are some big trees on the campus lawn.
One of the biggest oaks I have ever seen.
One of the biggest oaks I have ever seen.
The campus is almost deserted – everybody is at the game.
I walk past Martindale dormitory, where I lived fpr 3 years.
I can see thru the fence into the football game. Don’t need to buy a ticket.
U of C is stopped, and Wabash takes over on its 35 yd line.
Immediately throw another long TD pass. This game is over. Another big win for the Little Giants.
On the way back into town a question mark butterfly is darting around a parking lot. They are very curious creatures. Will land on anything. Only butterfly I have ever know that lands on people. Once as a kid I was chasing one with a net when it suddenly disappeared. Looked down at my shadow and it had landed right on top of my head. This one is intruiged by all the flashy colors on the new cars in the lot. Is landing on vehicles that have bright reddish colors. It lands on a red pickup.
You can see that markings on the underside of the hind wing that it gets its name from.
A wooly bear caterpillar is chowing down, getting ready to make its cocoon for winter.
I drive back up to Darlington. Perfect evening to fish. Warm and muggy again. Sugar creek is very shallow under the bridge here.
I should go out and fish but my legs and ankles are still tired from wading this morning. Instead I go back into town, to Buffalo Wild Wings, where they have 984 TVs showing sports. Instead of fishing I have dinner, a couple beers, and watch Oregon State vs Boise State FB game. The Beavs put up a strong effort but fall to the mighty team with the blue grass. When I go back to the car it is raining, slow and steady - slow moving cold front coming in. I head back to the Hwy 32 bridge and back down a little dead end track. Tough to back the trailer along this steep edge in the dark and the rain.
The Bullship has been an essential so far, but it is an impediment here. I met a guy named Jeff at the coffee shop where I was blogging. He is half owner. His relative and other half owner Nancy has a farm near Waynetown, W of Cville, and she will let me leave the Bullship there for a while.
Sept 26
Still raining at dawn. Not hard, should go back out and fish like I had planned, but I wimp out. Must meet Nancy at 9 AM, so I drive around till I find the place. She is not there but Jeff is. I stay and talk. His parents show up. Cheeseheads from Milwaukee. On their way back. We hang around and BS for an hour.
I unhitch the Bullship and leave it to graze with the cows and chickens.
The Volvo is ecstatic. Like a donkey it tows the Bullship around the continent and does not complain. But it loves being on its own. Really has some hops now that the trailer is gone. On the way back thru Waynetown there is a sign for a local here who accompanied Lewis and that other guy on their famous trip.
I head back to Cville and pick up my new tire from Wal Mart. $80. Along with the new battery this is the biggest expense I have incurred for the Volvo so far. I drive back to the Hwy 32 bridge. Looked interesting downstream from here, so I find the road I saw in Google Earth and follow it down. I remember it came near the creek at one point. Maybe I can get into the creek there and wade back up to Hwy 32. I find the spot, and just a little way further is a creek access site maintained by the state. I drive down and walk out to the creek.
There is another guy there, about my age. We start talking. He has suffered a stroke recently, so sometimes he struggles with words. But his thoughts are clear. Like me he has not been back here for a long time. Used to work for the college almost his whole life. Took care of the grounds. Retired now, and lives in Minneapolis. His buddy Mike used to run the bookstore at Wabash. They got there just after I left. His buddy died a few years ago. They canoed on Sugar Creek a lot, and Mike led watershed tours for students and anyone else who was interested. Was a big force in the community to raise awareness for the creek and its ecosystem. He and his friend, to whom I am talking to, used to come down here, watch the creek, and ponder the meaning of the universe. When he died the state created this park and named it after him. His buddy has come down here to pay respects to his lost friend.
There are big gravel bars here. This is sedimentary rock country. Fossils everywhere. In 5 minutes I gather a few and take a pic.
Primitive and stupid organisms from a time when animals did not even have backbones. Could not anticipate the day when their remains would serve as substrate for a bass creek.
I find an unusual array of rocks. Must have been left behind by some strange currents in the outwash from the Wisconsin Glaciation. I am sure there is a geomorphology textbook that could explain this.
There is a big deep pool below the gravel bar.
I am tempted to walk down and fish it, but instead I drive back upstream. In spite of the rain the creek is still low and clear. The night of rain simply soaked into the ground, and did not get into the stream at all. It is a real challenge to sneak up on and fool the wily bass in water this clear and shallow.
It is too far to wade all the way back to Hwy 32, and then still walk back to the car, this afternoon. I wait at the Hwy 32 bridge, and the guy I just met shows up again. He remembered the spring, and like me wants to fill his jugs with the sacred water before heading back to home.
I see on my map that there is another bridge between here and Cville. I drive out and decide to fish here. This time I put on my waders, and then jam the flip flops onto the feet. Seems to work OK, and it feels great being in waders on this cool day. Need to tarvel light now. Not like being in a bass boat with 8 rods rigged out with different lures. One rod, 8 lb line, 2 raps, a few hooks and a pack of Yum worms. the bare esential SM package. Very shallow here, but it gets deeper as I head upstream. At the first likely spot the Yum worm gets bit.
Then there is a deeper pool below a rapid. Another nice Sugar Creek smallie falls for the worm.
Getting to be automatic. Just wish I could find some deeper water, cuz then I would fool the big boys. I miss a bigger fish and then wade up the riffle. Here the creek rams straight into a gravel bank, underlain by clay.
Carves out a huge deep hole. I can wade out 150 ft into the pool, and all of a sudden there is a vertical drop into water too deep to see bottom, where the current has cut into the clay bank. More deep water in this pool that there was in the entire rest of the creek I have walked so far. This is where the fish must be stacked up during low water. I am drooling with excitement. This is where the trophy Sugar Creek SMs lurk. I later learn that a guide led a client to a 23” SM in this pool last year. Hogzilla. I patiently work my way up, drifting the worm over superb SM habitat. But suddenly the bite is off. I spend an hour working this pool. Could spend the whole afternoon. No bites. At the top end there is a tree jammed under the riffle. I throw the worm into a pocket between the branches and get a big hit. Cannot turn it, lunges right into a branch and leaves the hook stuck in the wood while the fish takes off. This is why they call them the wily bass. Lucky to get my worm back here.
The next pool is even bigger, with staggering driftwood trees piled along the deep back.
Killer SM turf, but again I get no bites. The creek is making S bends thru unconsolidated sediments here, scouring deep slots along the outside banks. A few bass are feeding, but will not bite on the worm. The fish here are not only too smart for the rap, they are too smart to fall for the Yum worm trick as well. The next pool is bigger and deeper yet.
These pools are like miniature oceans compared to the pools elsewhere on this creek. Nothing will bite the worm, so in desperation I tie on the new firetiger rap. Catch one dinker, and then on about the 5th cast I throw it a bit too far. It lands on the gravel and breaks the lip off. Another $9 lure trashed. Need to spend this winter glueing new diving lips on these raps. I switch back to the silver rap and throw it all along the sunken wood. No bites. Getting to be evening now. This will be my last pool. Near the top end is a high spot where boulders rise up into the current. I get 2 surface hits on the rap here, both big fish. Both get off.
Then I head back down, throwing the rap over perfect deep water. No more bites. A frustrating evening. I know there are big fish in here. Too smart for me. How can this be? I have a diploma, and they do not. Very humiliating. I always feel like a worthless human being on days like this. Spend my whole life trying to figure out the habits of the bass, and yet I know nothing. Wasted my entire life. Could have spent all those years watching TV, or making money I could be spending in a casino. Instead I am wet, tired, and frustrated.
Tomorrow I will rent a room at Motel 6, take a shower, and blog. But first I must check out Creek X.
Creek X
Creek X is a tiny stream, about a ½ hr away from Cville. I fished all the creeks within a 45 minute drive of Cville when I was a student there. Almost all of them had bass in them, most had only small fish. Creek X was too small to hold anything but tiny bass, so no one else ever fished it. Looking up from the hwy bridge it runs thru pasture. Lousy habitat for bass. Channel meandering all over, cutbanks caving in, no deep pools, no shade, cattle trampling around in the water. Great habitat for cows, but no so much for bass. Upstream from the bridge about ¼ mile the creek enters a riparian corridor of big hardwoods. The floods would wash against the roots of these big trees, scouring out deep holes that are shaded in summer, with gravel riffles in between. Big SMs lurked in this part of the creek. Amazing little giants hiding in tiny water. I once killed a fish from Creek X. Took it back to town and had it weighed and photographed. Won the Indianapolis Star Big Fish Contest with that fish. Biggest SM caught in the entire state of Indiana that week.
I never asked permission to fish in Creek X. Would just park along the hwy and walk up, staying low as possible behind the cutbanks so the people in the farmhouse would not notice me. Never got hassled. In those days bass fishermen assumed eminent domain in Indiana. If it was flowing you could wade up it and not be trespassing. If there was a no trespassing sign, or if the owners yelled at me and told me to leave I would not contest it. In reality, the owners are legally allowed to kick you out. While visiting Chicago from BC in the 1970′s I once borrowed my dad’s car and drove down to Wabash, mainly to fish Creek X. Nobody hassled me, and it was still good fishing. But that was long ago.
Have been thinking about Creek X all the rest of my life. This is what streams here could look like, if people cared about fish as much as they do about corn and cows. Always thought of it as the poster child for small stream ecology. A properly maintained riparian zone along with the right gradient and substrate can produce astounding aquatic ecosystems. Always wanted to get back and fish it again, or at least walk along it to see how it has changed, and how it has stayed the same. Creek X is the real target of Basstravaganza2010. Everything before is preparation, and everything else is aftermath.
Creek X is relatively near a rest stop on the freeway. I will drive out to check out the rest stop, and then drive up to check the bridge on the hwy – my access point.
When I get to the rest stop it is closed. Another victim of the Great Recession. Govt has no money to maintain their existing infrastructure. Bummer for itinerant bass fishermen. I take tiny roads thru the dark until I reach the small hwy, then cross over the bridge without knowing it. As always, this is a very easy stream to pass by without noticing. I turn around and drive back. Used to be difficult to pull off the road and park here, but since they replaced the bridge it is impossible now. Must have a look at this memorable place in the daylight. Could drive 30 miles the other way to find a rest stop, or back into Cville and sleep in the Wal Mart lot. Should not consider sneaking into this place now without permission. But I am so close now. Cannot leave, must get up and see Creek X. If I get in the water at the first grey of hope in the morn, stay in the water and stay low, I can get up past the farmhouse before they wake up. I find an obscure spot on a gravel road about a mile away and park for the nite. Only Oregon car parked in this cornfield tonite, that is for sure.
Sept 27
Prior to leaving OR I had made a mental vow that I would not sneak in to Creek X, like I always did in the
past. This time I would stop in and meet the landowners first, and ask permission to wade and fish. I have been looking at Creek X in Google Earth from my cubicle at work in Ashland for a few years. Not much seems to have changed, except that the forest along the creek downstream from the bridge is gone – pasture now. The farmhouse is still there. Still pasture up from the hwy, then big trees upstream. Should still be the same pools and big SM under those trees.
The clouds clear off and the moon comes out, while I plan my strategy for Creek X. Very cool tonite. 2 nites ago it was so hot and muggy I could not sleep, and the mosquitos were bad. Tonite I need to keep the windows clsoed to stay warm, and around 5 AM I must start the car motor to run the heater. I will park about a ½ mile from the bridge, on the gravel road off the hwy. Then walk down to the bridge, change into my waders under it, and head up. Dawn is getting late now. After 6 AM already, so there are quite a few cars on the road. I feel weird, drawing attention to myself walking with waders & fishing rod in the near dark along a road where there are no fish. When there is no traffic I run to save time. Get to the bridge and scurry under it. Slip into my waders, crawl down under the bridge and into the stream. There is an electric fence across the water here.
Need to be slow and quiet. Do not antagonize the folks in the house, or their cattle in the field. I stay low, using the cutbanks for cover. But all of a sudden a big black ungulate comes over. Hope it is not a bull. No – just a curious cow. Very curious. Right in my face curious. Only 15 ft away curious. A few more cows waddle over to check me out. Hope they lose interest. Need to get into those trees where I am hidden from cows and landowners. I had forgotten how far it was to the trees. Beginning to have second thoughts about this phase of the Basstravaganza. The entire herd of cows is following along with me now, lead by the curious and somewhat belligerent black cow. She obviously has issues with me being on her turf. She stamps her feet and trots up to the next riffle. The earth shakes like mini earthquakes when the herd runs. Must have been like this when the buffalo roamed. Getting closer now, only a couple shallow pools left before I get to the trees. Hope the folks in the house are eating breakfast and not looking outside. The black cow is mooing and bellowing now. Trying to draw attention to me. I decide to bail on wading up the creek. Will walk across the grass to the fenceline, and then into the trees. Away from these damn cows.
But I have forgotten. There is a low spot here, always fills with silt, a mini swamp on the far bank. I sink in, like tar the mud sticks to my waders and tries to pull off the flip flops. I am stuck, barely able to move. I hear more rumbling. What is this? A pickup truck pulls up to the bank, asks what I am doing.
Well, I have not been back here for 30 years, wanted to go back in to my old secret spot…..
Want to go over and talk to the guy, reason with him, but I am stuck almost waste deep in his mud. Almost apologetically he says, “Well, I am going to have to kick you out.” Kind of expected that was coming. Better than a shotgun blast, especially if you happen to be mired in the La Brea Tar Pit. He drives off into the field. What is he going to do – call the cops? I finally get out of the mud and walk out across the pasture to find him. He is dumping out bales of hay for the cows. He pulls over to me and we start talking. He is not belligerent at all. Not like his cows. I tell him that I fished here a number of times in the distant past. Another truck drives up. It is his aunt, who is the property owner. Still owns the land, like she did when I snuck in during the 1960s. She is not upset that I am fishing in her creek, just that I am upsetting her cows. I don’t blame her.
We end up having an hour long conversation in the field. They are curious and sympathetic about my Basstravaganza, and I am sympathetic to their values and problems as landowners. She just was at some gathering in S Dakota where there were some Czech people named Best. Turns out that the pools I want to fish are not even on their property. I will go talk to the neighbor and ask permission to fish there. I bring the conversation around the the topic of the creek, and watershed health, as I often do in any conversation. I ask if they ever considered planting trees along the creek. She says no – they want no trees. Cut down all the trees that grew along the bank downstream of the bridge some years ago. Now glad to see the last few big cottonwoods falling into the creek and washing away in the spring floods. Will be glad when they are all gone. Lots of room for fish on other parts of the creek. They want only grass. But the creek keeps trying to do what creeks do – make pools and grow big trees.
Clearly someone I could respect and get along with in many ways, but with an absolutely diametric opinion about riparian management. The creek is unconfined by anything here. Tearassing around their property, carving into cutbanks every spring, wandering all over the field. Why not dedicate a strip of land along it to big trees that would hold its channel in place? The eternal conflict between public vs private property interests. The land is theirs, but waters of the state run thru it. The dollars that are tabulated as profit in their world are absorbed by the general populace as debits, in the form of degraded water quality, not to mention fish and wildlife habitat.
I head back to town and rent my room at Motel 6. I have sent out a few emails to the Friends of Sugar Creek, wonder what they are up to. 2 of the board members are Wabash profs, busy this weekend. Another has a name that is unusual and familiar, but I don’t know why. He has just been hired as restoration coordinator. We agree via email to meet at 4 PM at the coffee shop. I meet him there then, and Jeff is there too. I am getting to be a regular here. Turns out that Nathan’s father went to school with me, one year ahead of me – that is why I remembered the name if not the person. Like me Nathan is a hard core SM fisherman, and vice pres of the Indiana Smallmouth Alliance. We talk about fishing spots, and I tell of my experience that morning on Creek X. He gives me some suggestions about good places to fish. He agrees that all the streams are really low now, last time he went out he got skunked, which never happens.
I head back to the Motel. Cannot blog tonite – it is Bears vs Packers on Monday Nite Football. First time since 1963 that both teams have met on MNF while they were both unbeaten. I have a huge pile of grub from the Chinese smorgasboard, shower, bed. What else could you want out of life? The upstart Bears were supposed to be awful, but they battle toe-to-toe with the mighty cheeseheads from Green Bay, and win miraculously on a last second FG.
Sept 28
I stay in the motel till 11 AM, blogging. The Google site I have been using will not let me upload images. These blog sites are free, but there is no user support. If it don’t work, too bad. I waste the whole morning and get little posted up on the blog. Need to get out and fish. I head back to the nature preserve I was at yesterday.
The butterflies are everywhere, sucking down the last of that summer nectar from the flowers. Won’t be long before this is all over.
Lots of buckeyes around. This is one spectacular butterfly. Like many butterflies, the underside of the wings are in drab colors that blend in with the surroundings if the wings are closed.
But they can really flash the color if there is somebody around to impress.
The viceroy is here, perfect mimic of the monarch except for an extra black bar across the hind wings. Monarch caterpillars feed on milkweed, and ingest the foul tasting “milk” that is their sap. So the adult monarchs are foul tasting too. Birds will not eat them. Viceroys do not eat milkweed, so are not foul tasting. But birds will not eat them because they look like monarchs.
The tiny checkered skipper is flitting around.
Along with the ubiquitous pearl crescent.
There are a few tiger swallowtails, which seem to be common anywhere in N America.
There are too many species of fritilarys in the world. Taxonomists dream. I can’t identify them all.
Our friend the question mark is here again, alighting on gravel now instead of parked cars. Again, the underside of the wings are a perfect mimic of a dead leaf.
But the upper side is very bright and showy.
But taking pics of butterflies distracts me from my mission to pursue the wily bass. Always better to wade and fish upstream here, cuz if you go down the mud you stir up drifts down over the fish you are targeting and makes them nervous. But I will wade downstream first and check out the nice looking pool below the park.. Bright sunny day, no bites. As I am wading back up towards the car I throw across the stream too far, get my worm caught on the submerged tree on the other bank. Must wade over to pick it out, thru deeper water than I usually go in, over my waist. In the process I spook out all the fish that were hiding under this woodpile. A revelation. In this gin clear water there is nowhere else for them to hide. Did not think there were any fish in this shallow run, only waist deep clear water. But I am wrong.
A huge swarm of fish move out from the logs, into the middle of the channel, up onto a submerged boulder bar. Must be 50-100 fish in this pool that are over 3 lbs. Mostly suckers, sheephead, carp, but mixed in with them are a number of SM, including a couple that are 18” and another that is at least 20”. Plus many channel cats, some in the 5-10 lb range. They are milling around in front of me, so I try to take pics. The pics do no justice to the scene. Hard to see what I saw, because the pics are distorted and full of surface glare.
A huge swarm of fish move out from the logs, into the middle of the channel, up onto a submerged boulder bar. Must be 50-100 fish in this pool that are over 3 lbs. Mostly suckers, sheephead, carp, but mixed in with them are a number of SM, including a couple that are 18” and another that is at least 20”. Plus many channel cats, some in the 5-10 lb range. They are milling around in front of me, so I try to take pics. The pics do no justice to the scene. Hard to see what I saw, because the pics are distorted and full of surface glare.
There ARE giant SMs all around in this creek. Lots of them. Just too smart to bite in this clear water. Love to be here in spring when the water is a bit murky.
I head upstream, catching nothing in the sun. As soon as I get into the shade I start getting hit on the worm again, but nothing big. I can see now that the big guys are too smart to fall for the rubber worm trick, at least now during this low water. There is a much longer pool above. Sunny across the tailout, no bites there. A shade pocket just above. Must sneak across the tailout without making a ripple, without crunchiung a rock underfoot, without spooking another big fish that will run crazy upstream and spook the rest. Must do all these things perfectly and then make a dead accurate cast to drop the worm in the right place, where it will drift down above the nose of the bass that must be lurking in this spot. That’s the way it is in this creek – demands absolute perfection. Can’t just throw raps against the bank like in the stained water in Wis. Can’t just bomb crazy topwater plugs around like in the lakes on Van Isle.
I do everything right, and get a good hit. Biggest fish of the day.
An incredibly challenging fish under these conditions. Took me 3 hours just to get into position where I could make that cast.
I head back to the car and have some lunch and juice. A tiny caterpillar is dangling from a tree, hanging in mid air by silk. When I try to focus it drops to the ground. So I take its picture anyway.
Then go back out and continue up the big pool. I can see bottom almost everywhere. No sign of fish. I continue to the top end, throwing the worm under wood along the far bank, dragging the deeper water. Not another bite. Was this the only fish in the pool? On the way back down I switch to the rap, hoping for a surface bite, but only catch 1 dinker. Sleep at the nature preserve, wondering how many fish looked at my lures and would not bite.
I head back to the car and have some lunch and juice. A tiny caterpillar is dangling from a tree, hanging in mid air by silk. When I try to focus it drops to the ground. So I take its picture anyway.
Sept 29
I want to fish some of the small creeks around Cville. Some real sleepers here, tribs to Sugar Creek that should not be big enough to hold big fish, but could often surprise me. Little Sugar Creek flows past the eastern end of Cville and then into the big creek N of town. It splits into 2 streams just north of town, and the S branch is called Walnut Fork. Tiny tiny creek, may be within the city limits of Cville.
Nathan recommends it, as does my memory. Had some fine fishing here in the 60s. Not the kind of place most people would drive across the country to fish. I head E to find the bridge over Hwy 32. The creek runs right along the hwy here, houses all along it.
Around the bend I get another nice one - ridiculous fish to catch in 1 ft of water.
On it goes. Every pool I get hits from nice fish. Almost never more than 1 fish per pool, cuz the fish you catch make such a commotion it spooks all the others. Middle of a bright sunny day, but the bass don’t care.
I take a pic to illustrate the size of this creek. Hardly wider than my rod is long, and only a few inches deep in between the pools.
I switch to the firetiger rap and it gets pounded everywhere.
There is always a bit of cloudiness in the water of Walnut Fork. Not gin clear like Sugar Creek is now. Just enough to allow you to sneak up without being seen. Cannot do this in Sugar Creek right now. Except for a couple pools where I throw a bad cast, get snagged on a tree and spook the pool by having to wade across and unsnag my lure I get fish in every good spot.
Finally I tag a 17” slug that shakes loose just as I am lining up the camera. Biggest fish in Indiana so far, from this tiny creek on the edge of the city. In 2 hours of wading up this tiny stream, just a mile from strip malls and industrial sites, I have caught more decent SMs than I did in 10 years of fishing Emigrant Lake in Ashland OR. Superb urban fishery here, enjoyed only by a few locals.
I head back to the coffee shop to work on my blog and check emails. Jeff is there too, and also Nathan from FOCS. We talk about fishing spots again, and also TMDL and Phase II stormwater management. Cville is an MS4, and has a Phase II permit like Ashland. They apparently did not comply with their permit and got audited. Now in hot water with EPA. This is one reason we (including I) worked so hard on our permit in Ashland. Don’t want to be on the hot seat with EPA.
Nathan is pursuing his masters degree at Purdue, just N of here. Has an apartment in Cville, and commutes to school in Lafayette. We talk about my experience at Creek X. It will take many generations to change people’s attitudes about watersheds around here. His thesis is based on surveying public awareness and attitudes about watershed and env issues. This data will be recorded and can be correlated vs surveys of these people’s children and grandchildren. Nathan is heading home, so he drops me off on Walnut Fork downstream of the reach I fished this morning. I can fish up to my car, instead of having to wade back downstream.
The pools are much bigger and deeper here, and there are no houses along the banks. Much better bass habitat compared to the area I fished earlier today.
But the fishing is dead. Bite is off. I get a couple decent fish, but nothing like the other spot. Got a hit from a good fish in EVERY good spot there. But down here I fish over lots of good water with no bites.
A coon comes down to dig clams.
On the way back thru town I buy some catfish bait. Want to try for some of those big channel cats I saw swimming yesterday. Drive back and sleep at Bachner nature preserve.
Sept 30
Sept gone. Cannot believe it. Where did the time go? So hot I could not sleep only a few days ago, but no longer. Very chilly in the mornings now. I get up and tie on a crayfish lure, soft plastic imitation made by Rex Huddleston of Cal. Looks incredibly real when it is in the water. I will crawl it over the spot where I saw the big SMs yesterday. I spend an hour crawling the rubber crawdad over the big bass. Know they are in there. Will not bite. The I open the package of catfish bait. Chicken liver flavor. Like big stinky gumdrops of silly putty. I mash some onto a big triple hook, put some lead on and toss it out into the slot where the big cats were lurking yesterday. This should be easy. Wait and wait and wait. No bites. Fishing for catfish is boring, especially when they are not biting. Later I meet a kid who says you have to use live bait to catch cats when the water is this clear. Get a cast net from Wal Mart for $40, catch some big shiner minnows, put one on a hook and toss it onto the bottom. He says there are 45 lb flathead cats in here. How could they survive in such a clear shallow stream?
Nothing is biting. Very challenging to get these fish to bite in such clear water. If I cannot catch them at least I will get a better look at them. I have a mask & snorkel stored in the back of the Volvo. Brought it along just in case I ran into this situation. The water was stained too dark in Wis to see more than a couple feet. No point in snorkeling there. But in Sugar Creek you can see 10 feet. It is loaded with fish. Should be fun to have a look at them. I walk up about a 1/2 mile and wade in. I will float back down the long pool to the car, and then float the pool where I saw all the big fish yesterday. I am wearing my waders & T shirt. It is cloudy and windy. Need to get in up to my chest before the water will flood into my waders, but as soon as my hands and arms start going in the water I realize it is too cold. This is impossible. I let little splashes of water run down my legs. Will I get hypothermia? I am such a wimp. How can I get hypothermia when the creek is only waste deep, it is 70F outside, and the car is only a half mile away? Finally take the plunge and sink my head underwater. It is not that bad once you are in.
Another world now. Looks so much deeper when you are looking thru goggles. I fished over this entire pool yesterday with a Yum worm. Caught a nice bass near the bottom end, and then never got another bite. So shallow you can see bottom almost everywhere.
Not many places for a fish to hide in here. Just a few logs along the deep bank. Easiest place in the whole creek for access, so not likely to be many big bass around here. I start from the top end of the pool, where it is all mud bottom, silt deposited from the riffle above. Not one single fish to be seen. Visibility is amazing. Seldom see water this clear except in mountain trout streams. The Wisconsin river was swarming with crayfish. Vis is very limited there. This place must be a tough world for crayfish. They are here, but you almost never see a live one. Not surprising when they can be seen from 10 ft away by foraging SM bass, their main predator. This muddy bottom is only good for suckers and carp, but I see none. Gradually I drift down, approaching a driftwood tree in the water along the deep bank. This is where the wily bass should be lurking. Suddenly there are bass, hanging around the dead trees roots. As I slip by the rootwad an enormous dolomieu slides out from the other side. Behemoth. At least 20″. King of this pool. Turns and faces me, just out of my reach. Backs down the current ahead of me. I am in his turf. He owns it and I am tresspassing, like I was in S Chicago and Creek X. Disappears behind some limbs but slides back out in front of me as I drift past them. Right in my face. I am drifting still as can be, trying not to spook the fish. This is a magnificant specimen. I have snorkeled a few times, and this is the biggest bass I have ever seen under water. There are other big ones lurking around this log. Must be 25 fish here, all SM, including a few 4-5 lbers. Totally amazing. Had no idea there could have been this many large bass in this pool. We drift down the entire length of the big tree, in slow motion, me drifting forward and the huge bass drifting backwards, in behind the log and back out again staring me in the face. We seldom meet this way. The wily bass and the stupid human with the stupid Yum worm.
As I clear the tree the big bass melts into the distance. I am out of his zone now. But there are more and more bass hanging along this bank. Getting farther down into the pool now, and the current sweeps along a little quicker. These are the things you do not see if you are just wading. Substrate is changing from mud to gravel, with a few boulders. Big SMs are lurking everywhere along this bank, where not a single one would bite for me. Some big suckers appearing along the bottom here too.
I drift around the branches of a live tree hanging in the water. There is something big and long and green just off the bottom on my left, between me and shore. What the H? Sturgeon? No. Garfish? No. Cannot believe what I am seeing. They are not supposed to be in here. But there is no mistaking it. My old friend Esox from the Wisconsin R. Wild Indiana river musky! Big one. Nearly 3 ft long. Not intimidated. This fish is King of the Pool. The big dolomieu was only Assistant Undersecretary to the Vice President. Does not like being pinned between me and shore but does not panic. Slides back down along the bank and then drifts across in front of me, turns to face me at a 45 deg angle, then drifts along on the deep side, face to face staredown, just out of arm’s reach. Not that I would reach. We both know that he could rip a few fingers right off my hand before I could blink. Keeping my fingers very close to me chest now! Unforgettable crystaline moment in crystal clear water. I try to tell myself that is it a lucius. Pike are native to Indiana. But it is a pure musky – gunmetal grey with darker vertical bars. Absolutely perfect specimen, not a scratch or a nipped fin or a scale missing. Nothing much in this river gonna be nipping at the fins of this fish and living to tell about it. The big ski drifts along with me for about 30 seconds, like a dirigible, until I am clear of its zone.
Water is getting a bit deeper now. Lots of suckers and big sheephead with their quilback dorsal fins. Lots of SM mixed in with them too. All sizes. This is a revelation. Could never have imagined this many big dolomieus in one spot. Especially in a spot I had fished over and decided was virtually empty. Must be at least 30 SM in the area I drift over of 4 lbs and up, plus lots of smaller ones. The middle section of the pool is deeper than I thought. Must be over 6 ft deep now. I can see big catfish swirling on the bottom. I am making as little movement as possible, floating on the surface looking down, legs still, making only little dogpaddles to turn around, drifting along with the current. Easily 1,000 lbs of big fish in this pool, maybe 2,000. Over the deepest slot now, must be 8 ft, maybe even 10 ft deep. Can barely see bottom. Cannot see to the gravel anyway, cuz it is absolutely covered with the shapes of big fish. Carp, suckers, catfish, sheephead. Alarmed and slightly agitated, but not panicking because of my presence.
I drift back in along the bank. In the process I trap a huge 20 lb carp between me and the bank. Just as big as the ski, but different attitude. The fish does not turn and challenge me like the giant bass and musky. It spooks. One big swirl of its tail and it is gone like a rocket, huge cloud of mud roiling from the bank it vacated so fast. In the process it shoots past 2 more big carp, and spooks them. They spook more fish. It is a chain reaction. Unstoppable now, like a meltdown in a nuke plant. I turn back into deeper water but the entire bottom is a maelstrom of panicking fish. Huge lumps of biomass charging in all directions like a subatomic partical experiment gone mad. Within seconds the entire pool is a roiling mass of mud, vis is reduced from 10 ft to 3 feet. The show is over. I stand on a gravel bar for 15 minutes but the water is still not clear. Getting cold standing out in the wind. Time to go. This has been the most unforgettable and humbling experience on the whole basstravaganza so far. I will never underestimate this creek again. It is swarming with big bass, but they are really hard to fool under these low water conditions. Staring down the big ski is something I will never forget. Love to come back here and snorkel again some time, when the weather is 90F instead of 65F.
In the afternoon I head out to have another look at Creek X. I drive downstream from where I fished in the past. These SM streams are not found everywhere in Indiana. During the Ice Age the glaciers plowed over Indiana from the N, leveling the landscape and depositing dirt, gravel and rock when they left. Beneath this are sedimentary layers of limestone and shale. When the creek cuts down to shale it becomes very shallow and flat bottomed. When it runs thru pure dirt it may form deep pools, but the creek is slow and muddy. Good habitat for catfish, but poor for SMs. Need to find those areas where the creek runs through soil deep enough to scour pools into, but still has enough velocity to leave rocks and boulders exposed. There is a belt of this kind of geology that runs SE from Cville thru Indianapolis and down towards the Ohio R. The rest of the state is too flat for good SM habitat. Streams are too muddy there.
And the SM are distributed evenly along a given stream. It takes an exact combination of gradient, substrate, and riparian forest to generate good SM habitat here. In places the creeks cut down to bedrock. Solid shale beds. Very pretty. These are the postcard creeks that look so pretty. But not good for SM. The bottom is flat and shallow bedrock. Never gets deep enough for the bass to hide, and there is no gravel and boulders for crayfish and minnow to hide in.
And the SM are distributed evenly along a given stream. It takes an exact combination of gradient, substrate, and riparian forest to generate good SM habitat here. In places the creeks cut down to bedrock. Solid shale beds. Very pretty. These are the postcard creeks that look so pretty. But not good for SM. The bottom is flat and shallow bedrock. Never gets deep enough for the bass to hide, and there is no gravel and boulders for crayfish and minnow to hide in.
The SM seek out the habitat they prefer. They require food and shelter. Water where it is deep enough for them to hide from predators. Their favorite food, the crayfish, hides under rocks. So they need a place that has boulders and cobbles for the crawdads to hide under. In streams, this means they need a place where the current is strong enough to blow the mud and sand away from the coarser substrate. While attending Wabash I would check contour maps looking for the steeper gradient stream reaches. Anything over 10 ft per mile gradient might produce SMs. But I found that the very steepest gradient sections were usually places where the creek had cut all the way down thru the soil to flat bedrock. No big fish there.
Used to be hardwood forests of big oak, maple, hickory, and beech around here. The roots of these big trees anchored and stabilized the banks, and created a solid obstacle for the current to push against. If the current could not move the tree it would scour a deep hole underneath the roots, blowing out the sand and silt, leaving exposed rocks and boulders on the bottom that provide hiding places for crayfish, minnows, and bass. When you log off a stream and turn the land into pasture you lose this riparian forest. No more deep holes, no more boulders, nothing to hold the channel in place. The channel starts to wander around during high flows, because there is nothing to lock it in place. Cut banks cave in and dump sediment into the creek.
So, in addition to gradient, if you are looking for big SM here you are often looking for big trees. It is the big hardwoods along the bank that create and maintain the habitat for the big SMs. You could probably analyze this in a GIS. Add layers for big SM and big trees along the bank, and you would find a strong correlation. In a tiny stream like Creek X anything more than waste deep is a deep hole, and anything over waste deep was likely to hold big bass.
I spend a couple hours following Creek X further downstream, looking for access points and good bass water. I want to try a spot where I have never fished before. U have already made some screenshots from Google Earth, so I pull over periodically and turn on my laptop to look at them. End up picking out a nice shady stretch above a steel bridge.
There are osage orange trees here. Not really oranges, but they do have big green fruit about the same size. This time of year the fruits are falling off the trees. When they fall into the creek they sound like bowling balls dropped in a swimming pool.
I spend a couple hours following Creek X further downstream, looking for access points and good bass water. I want to try a spot where I have never fished before. U have already made some screenshots from Google Earth, so I pull over periodically and turn on my laptop to look at them. End up picking out a nice shady stretch above a steel bridge.
There are osage orange trees here. Not really oranges, but they do have big green fruit about the same size. This time of year the fruits are falling off the trees. When they fall into the creek they sound like bowling balls dropped in a swimming pool.
This does not look like a perfect habitat for bass. A bit too slow, a bit muddy, not enough big rocks. A grade of B- if central Ind bass streams could be rated like college students. Still, there must be SMs in here. I get one nice in in the first pool.
Then a long muddy reach followed by a big logjam. Must be some big fish down in there, but very hard to get a lure into this mess without scaring them. Then another good pool, and another nice bass.
I continue up for almost a mile, until I get to a new property line, after which the riparian forest has been removed. Then hike back to the car. Always fun for me to fish a new stretch of creek. Could do this every day for whole summer around here, and never fish all the good spots on all the creeks. And learn something new about creeks and bass every day. Every stretch between bridges on every creek has its own personality, like faces in a crowd. Now I have gotten to meet this one.
I drive back past Cville in the evening up to Darlington. Planning to fish the evening bite, but I get there too lake. So I head back up to the rest stop on the freeway for the nite.
I drive back past Cville in the evening up to Darlington. Planning to fish the evening bite, but I get there too lake. So I head back up to the rest stop on the freeway for the nite.
Oct 1
Should get out and fish early but I am lazy. Instead I stop by the cafe to touch base with Nancy, tell her I will be by tomorrow to pick up my boat. Today I will fish Creek X.
I used to always fish Creek X by wading upstream. Caught little on the pasture owners' land. No pools there. The property owners upstream from the pasture land left a strip of forest along the creek. As soon as you got into this reach you started finding big bass. The reach I fished was about 1 miles between bridges. The 2 top owners land was forested along the creek, except near the upper bridge where the house looked right out onto the stream. There was a good pool there, but the lady in the house would go berserk if she saw me fishing. Threatened to call the cops on me once. That was 40 years ago. Is she still there? I will find the house and ask permission to fish.
I drive out and find the road, and the bridge. The riparian zone has grown up along the creek here.
Cannot see the creek from the house any more. I could just walk in and they would never see me. But I am not that kind of guy any more. I finally get up enough nerve to go up, knock on their door, and ask permission to fish. Nobody home but the dog, so I write a note explaining what I am doing and leave it on their porch. Good enough for me. At least I made the effort. Then I park near the bridge and walk downstream. There are little fritilary butterflies along the edge of the cornfield, sp. unknown.
I walk for an hour to get to the property line where the good fishing (used to) start. There are still some big trees in this forest.
I finally get to the big pool where the property changes from the pasture owners to the cornfield owners - who have left a strip of riparian forest along the creek. The pool where the creek is shaded by forest. There was a big hardwood tree here in 1969. The current hit against it and it forced the creek into a bend, scouring out a deep hole under the roots. Used to catch a big SM here almost every time. Like clockwork. The big tree is gone now, tipped over and washed downstream without a trace. No other big trees nearby on this bank, so the pool is not as deep any more. But there is still a pool here. There is a big tree tipped over on the opposite bank.
Growing full of mushrooms now.
I forgot how close this pool it is to the pasture owners house. Their back window looks right down on the pool. When I hiked back downstream in the old days I would have to sneak around under the lower branches so they would not see me. Have to sneak under the same tree again. I am not on the pasture people's property, but I don't want to antagonize them or their cows.
Should walk down and fish upstream from the bottom of the pool. But this is too visible. Must fish downstream, fish fast, catch whatever I can before the silt I kick up drifts over the fish I am trying to catch. First cast gets a little LM.
There were a few LMs in Creek X in the past, and some nice ones. But always further upstream.
Next cast gets a 1 lb SM, shakes off just as I am getting the camera ready.
I have still not cast into the deepest water so I wade out further. On the far bank is the place the big tree used to be. Gone now, but there is still a bit of a hole there. Hydrologic memory of the big tree that used to live there. I cast out to a sunken log against the bank. Letting the rap float while the rings from its splash die out, when there is a big swirl further downstream. At least one big fish left in this pool! Then I twitch the rap. Something moves under the log. Dolomieu coming! Surface hit. Fish on! Big one.
Next cast gets a 1 lb SM, shakes off just as I am getting the camera ready.
I have still not cast into the deepest water so I wade out further. On the far bank is the place the big tree used to be. Gone now, but there is still a bit of a hole there. Hydrologic memory of the big tree that used to live there. I cast out to a sunken log against the bank. Letting the rap float while the rings from its splash die out, when there is a big swirl further downstream. At least one big fish left in this pool! Then I twitch the rap. Something moves under the log. Dolomieu coming! Surface hit. Fish on! Big one.
Further up I hook a sucker with the rap, snagged under a scale in its back. Lots of these around here.
The creek has not fared well over the years. The next pool is way shallower than it used to be, but I still catch a nice fish in it.
Next pool has a sunken stump in the middle. (red dot)
A bass attacks the rap right next to the stump, then jumps right between the 2 parts of the stump, then jumps right back over the stump. Gets totally tangled. Lucky I an using 8 lb test line or it surely would have broken off.
Next I get to the big pool that was always the hilite of this reach. The big hardwood that anchors the pool is still there, but leaning over now.
One more big flood may take it down. No other big trees nearby. This pool is living on borrowed time. Much shallower now. No bites in this magnificent pool. Further up is all mud and shallow water. What has happened to this creek? It is in very rough shape nowadays. Like seeing an old friend hooked on crack.
Even so, there are still some nice fish here. But no more pools deep enough to hold really big ones.
Some big carp lurking in one pool.
The deep slot with the claybank dropoff that used to hold the biggest fish is gone, along with the big trees that locked it in place. Getting up to the end now, near the house where I left the note. The deep cutbank pool is filled in with silt. Used to be big fish against the far bank. When I would hook one it would jump and the people in the house above might hear. Kicked me out of here twice. Not to worry about that now. No loud splashes here any more, cuz there are no big fish here any more, cuz there is no deep water for them to hide in.
But there is a new deep slot at the top end of the pool. Deepest spot since I caught the first big fish. I throw the rap against the far bank, into a tiny patch of shade. Smash! Surface hit. Another toad, 18”, just as big as the first one. No beach to lead it to here, and it snags the free hook into my waders just as I am clicking the shutter on my camera. Shakes loose. So I have no pic and will have to lie about this one.
But I get another nice one on a surface hit just upstream.
But there is a new deep slot at the top end of the pool. Deepest spot since I caught the first big fish. I throw the rap against the far bank, into a tiny patch of shade. Smash! Surface hit. Another toad, 18”, just as big as the first one. No beach to lead it to here, and it snags the free hook into my waders just as I am clicking the shutter on my camera. Shakes loose. So I have no pic and will have to lie about this one.
But I get another nice one on a surface hit just upstream.
Under the bridge is another nice deep pool. Sun is getting lower now, and the fish are more aggressive. Jumping on the rap now. 4 surface hits in this pool, but I only catch 1.
I keep going above the bridge. Get another nice fish in the next pool.
I am getting a good fish everywhere the water is more than 2 ½ ft deep. Amazing fishing for such tiny water. Above this pool is a fence across the creek, and the land turns to pasture again. I turn back and walk to the car. Very rewarding. Have been waiting almost 40 years for this day. Basstravacanza2010 is a success. Everything from here on is gravy. Sad to see the creek in such a degraded state. But this creek is fixable. Wonder what it must have been like here before the forests were cut down?
Back in the car. Hot now. Beautiful late summer afternoon. I drive further downstream, past where Creek X merges with its sister creek. Want to try another place where I have never fished before. There is a covered bridge down here.
Interesting to see how they built them. Did not use any huge long timbers. Everything is 8 x 12 or less, doubled and tripled up where needed, with lots of iron tieing everything together.
The creek is picture postcard pretty here. But not a good spot for SM. Getting near its confluence with the Wabash R now, so it has cut down into a canyon where the channel runs over shale beds. Flat and shallow, no deep holes, no boulders and cobbles for crayfish to hide under, no deep holes for fish. Never was good bass habitat here, and never could be.
I meet a guy on the hwy. Tried to go kayaking, but the creek is too low so he is loading the kayak back on his car. Tells me there is a good deep hole about a mile down, called Tipping Rocks. I drive down to find it. Spectacular spot, with one deep hole where the creek hits against a shale cliff.
Kind of a park here, with some big hardwoods along the bottomland.
I walk down and start at the pool below the tipping rock. It looks big and good, but it is only 18” deep. Flat shale bottom. No fish here. At the tailout of the big pool below the cliff the rap starts getting hit as soon as the water gets to be 2 ft deep.
Evening now. The fish are wild. Won't be many more days like this left in 2010, and they know it. Smashing the rap on surface hits.
Nice fish, but no big ones.
No water deep enough to hold big fish. The scour hole under the cliff is barely 4 ft deep at most.
As soon as I get past the bend the creek is flat and shallow again. More cliffs with beautiful looking pools under them.
As soon as I get past the bend the creek is flat and shallow again. More cliffs with beautiful looking pools under them.
But the water is only knee deep – not deep enough for a bass to hide from an eagle or osprey or otter.
I get one last fish just before dark that snags in my waders. This is a problem – triple hooks + neoprene + no beach = trouble. Need a landing net.
I get lost climbing back up the cliff in the dark. A bit scary, but back at the car it is a magical evening. This is the way I want to remember Indiana. Nuts falling off the trees, crickets chirping, hoot owls hooting. I am tired from a day of hiking and wading. Sleep in the car at Tipping Rock.
Oct 2
I get up late. Cold front rolled in last nite. Rain stopped now, but it is very cool. I drive back to Cville. On the way I stop at the farm and pick up the Bullship. The Volvo has been frolicking for almost a week, relieved of its load. Now it accepts the harness to its load stolidly, like a mule. The Bullship is impatient, wants to get back out on the water.
I want to fish the reach in Sugar Creek above Hwy 32 again, where I did well a few days ago. I get to the creek and see I see that I made a bad mistake. When I got back to the car last nite I was tired from wading. Slipped out of my waders and relaxed in the car. Forgot about them. Left them there in the dirt when I headed back to Cville. They were old, and torn up a bit. Left at a very public place. No point in driving an hour back to look for them. They are gone by now. Cat 6. Lost my waders.
I go to Wal Mart, but they don't sell waders. Big R has a pair for $10. I have bought these $10 waders before. I know they will not last a day, but I waste my $10 on them anyway. Middle of one of the best wade fisheries in the country, and you can't buy a decent set of waders.
I go to Wal Mart, but they don't sell waders. Big R has a pair for $10. I have bought these $10 waders before. I know they will not last a day, but I waste my $10 on them anyway. Middle of one of the best wade fisheries in the country, and you can't buy a decent set of waders.
In spite of the rain there is no visible increase in turbidity in Sugar Creek. Amazing watershed. On my first cast I throw the yum worm between 2 boulders in a tailout.
Must have dropped the worm directly into the open mouth of a waiting fish, cuz it does not take a second before a nice fish is on.
At the next tailout I hook a big fish that dives under a log and breaks me off. Then the bite is over. Can only get one more small fish.
Time to leave this beautiful stream and leave this Hoosier state. Getting too cold here. Like Lewis & Conrad heading up the Missouri, I can feel the cold breath of winter approaching. They headed west and stayed with the Mandans. There are no Mandans around here to offer me food and shelter, so I will head south.
Time to leave this beautiful stream and leave this Hoosier state. Getting too cold here. Like Lewis & Conrad heading up the Missouri, I can feel the cold breath of winter approaching. They headed west and stayed with the Mandans. There are no Mandans around here to offer me food and shelter, so I will head south.
It is noon before I finish reloading the car, saying GB to Nancy at the coffee shop. Jeff has already left for Colo. I head right down I-74 thru Indianapolis. Been thru Naptown before, nothing to see here. The West Fork of the White River runs right thru downtown. Very similar to Sugar Creek, good SM stream, especially for one in an urban setting. After I get past the megalopolis I return to tiny 2 lane roads, using the sun as my guide, heading generally S and E. I want to see the Flatrock R, part of the belt of SM streams that runs diagonally across Indiana. On the way I pass Indiana's other Sugar Creek, which flows into the Blue River. Here you can see the kind of humongous scour hole that can develop when immovable objects (big boulders) concentrate the flow into a place where there is no bedrock.
Nearby is an old church.
And an old cemetery.
I cross the Blue River, another of Indiana's SM streams. The water is not as clear as Sugar Creek in Cville, and there is less rock, more gravel and silt. Lower gradient, poorer habitat for SM.
The Driftwood River lives up to its name. Again, there is not enough rock and boulder to give the look of a top quality SM stream. I do not stop to fish.
Finally I get to the Flatrock River. Looks like a huge, superb pool.
I fish the tailout and only get one good fish to chase the rap. Above the tailout the creek lives up to its name. Runs over a bed of shallow flat rock. I wade up almost ½ mile, but there is nowhere more than 3 ft deep. Looks like a deep pool but not so. If you drained the water out you could paint a center line down the bed and use it for a 4 lane hwy. Absolutely smooth flat limestone. Nowhere for a fish to hide. Must be some good holes in this stream, but not anywhere near here. I only catch 1 small bass.
I walk back to the car dejected. Wasted my time fishing in a place that could not hold any decent fish.
Finally I get to the Flatrock River. Looks like a huge, superb pool.
I fish the tailout and only get one good fish to chase the rap. Above the tailout the creek lives up to its name. Runs over a bed of shallow flat rock. I wade up almost ½ mile, but there is nowhere more than 3 ft deep. Looks like a deep pool but not so. If you drained the water out you could paint a center line down the bed and use it for a 4 lane hwy. Absolutely smooth flat limestone. Nowhere for a fish to hide. Must be some good holes in this stream, but not anywhere near here. I only catch 1 small bass.
I walk back to the car dejected. Wasted my time fishing in a place that could not hold any decent fish.
Further upstream is a little falls.
Is this natural or a manmade dam? Of course I must hike up and check it out. Looks like a killer SM pool above the falls. Turns out it is an old dam. Downstrean side is made out of – what else – flat rocks. Lots of flat slabs of limestone around here to build with.
You can see how they built the dam. A wall of flat limestone slabs across the creek, with boulders and rubble piled up above, and a concrete shell over the rubble.
Remains of a slanted wooden wall are still visible. This would help deflect driftwood trees, cause them to slide up over the dam during high water.
At the far end of the dam is the foundation of the mill that would have been powered by water diverted from the creek.
Three inlets let flow into a chamber that probably led to a water wheel.
A gnarly tree has rooted into the old wall.
I throw the rap all over the deep water above the dam. No bites. Hard to believe.
Farther downstream is a deep hole that looks perfect for SM. Deep scour hole where an old bridge used to be, lots of boulders and sunken logs. Should be huge fish here. Probably are, but will not bite for me. I catch only 1 dinker.
Getting dark now as I get into Columbus. I find a Buffalo Wild Wings where I can watch the Bears Sunday nite FB game. Bears vs Giants. Bears are crushed, like their QB who is smashed and broken, knocked out of the game in the first half. Sleep in the Wal Mart lot.
