Dedication or Stupidity

Dedication and stupidity two words that are synonymous amongst fisherman and depending on who you talk to and to what context you will get either one of those words as a response.

This past Saturday I put the statement to the test. For I and the ragtag group of fisherman I call friends call the events that transpired dedication, most of you probably reading this will think otherwise but I’ll let you be the judge. It started for me anyway as a harmless text message the Friday before from good friend Kyle Hammond. “I think we’re planning on fishing for trout and walleye in the morning if you would care to join us.” Simple, nice, short invite, now before you go oh that’s a simple answer Kyle lives in Ft. Wayne, a good 2 hour drive for this central native. But, be dedicated I accepted and we ironed out the details, I loaded the truck and hooked up the kayak trailer and I was ready for the sound of the alarm. My alarm went off way too soon, 4:30 came quick, got dress in my layers ready to battle the elements of the day hoped in the truck and I was off. As I rode along IN-69 jamming to the free 3 weeks of Sirus radio I got to thinking, am I dedicated or stupid? I’m driving 2 hours north to meet up with Kyle and Mike to drive even farther to get to a lake I have never fished, let alone heard of, in rather less than favorable conditions. NAH! I’m just a dedicated kayak angler. The miles droned on and soon my journey came to its end, meet up with Mike at Kyle’s house we hashed out the plan, well they hashed out the plan, I was just along for the ride at this point. We loaded up and another 1.5 hour trek towards the Michigan boarder to our lake of choice, Clear Lake. The plan was simple troll for walleye and trout. So we unloaded our kayaks, as I set mine on the ramp it got the bright idea to launch itself. Kyle and I literally watched my kayak slide down the icy ramp into the water and float out of reach. It was quite funny to see my boat just drifting 20 yards off shore with no pilot. No fear though Mike “Toboggan Run” Densel was on the job as he hopped into his Hobie and rode it all the way down the ramp into the water much like the Log Flume rides at amusement parks. By far one of the most epic things I have seen while kayak fishing. Kudos Mike, much kudos. Having my kayak retrieved we set out across the lake with cranks and flies in tow hoping for the tall tell rod been of fish on. Time passed with not even a nibble, Kyle said he had just got word of a hot trout bite on another lake. Mike and I agreed this lake was a bust so let’s move. We trolled back to the ramp loaded up and were off to lake #2. We arrived at lake #2 where Kyle’s intel man was waiting, we unloaded and were off again. After a short paddle under a low bridge we were on the main lake. This lake had way more chop than the last, I still feel like I’m bobbing up and down.  I dropped my 2 crankbaits into the water, paddled a short distance and BOOM! Rod bent, fish on. After a short, acrobatic fight I had landed a beautiful trout. This was my first trout ever out of the kayak which was nice, because one more fish off the list. I trolled awhile longer with no other fish to show. I left my comrades on the water as I had to head home and my drive wasn’t a short one. I pulled into my driveway a couple hours later pondering that age old question, was I stupid or dedicated just to catch 1 fish? You decided. Until next time, tight lines.

Enjoy this short video of the one fish I caught.

http://youtu.be/uru6p_utgEw 

A cold day is better than no day.

I get told a lot by my family and non-angling friends that I'm crazy for fishing as much as I do and even more so when I do it when its close to 40° or colder. Which I get, I am crazy for fishing in a kayak in cold weather, even more so when it's in a SOT and only inches out of the water. But, I endure the frigid winds and water for that next bite no matter how hard it might be to achieve.

My alarm sounded which followed by a look at my weather app, today's high a sweltering 48° with a low in low 30's. Yep going to be one of those why am I getting out of my toasty bed kinda days. Well I roll out of bed throw on my thermal base layers, wool socks, jeans, hoodie and my heavy coat, out the door I go. As I'm loading up for the days journey I'm scrapping frost of not only my car windows but my kayak, all the while thinking why did I get out of bed? I arrive at the launch point, fashionably late due to a rather low rear tire, Tom had been patiently waiting for my arrival. We quickly ready the kayaks and where in the water. We had only traveled a short distance from the launch and made a handful of casts before I drew first blood. I had pitched to this sunken log, picked up the slack line before I realized my line was moving the opposite direction it had started. I quickly set the hook and landed a respectable spotted bass to which was released to see another day. As the fish swam off I was on a slight high of excitement in knowing this was not going to be a skunk day. Always good to the stink out early I like to say. We continued a ways a bit up stream before fish #2. I had made a blind cast towards some rip rap, slowly dragging my bait back, then suddenly my bait got increasingly heavier until the tall tale rod bend of fish on. A very nice and healthy 3# Indiana smallmouth. After the obligatory photo shoot the fish was released. We had traveled further upstream before I scored not only fish #3, but by far my biggest smallmouth out of my kayak or at all this year. Tom had stopped by a bridge for a bio break, so I was blind casting/diking around a small chatterbait I had tied on at the start for giggles with no real intention of actually catching anything on it. Boy, was I wrong. Upon my second cast about 3/4 through the retrieve, to what seemed like slow motion, the leviathan arouse from his deep water hiding place and engulfed my bait. With the water be as cold as it was the fight was short, but spectacular. As I netted this beautiful creature I was awestruck by its size. After removing the hook I snagged a quick weight which sealed the deal on my assumptions. Coming in at 4# she was indeed my largest smallmouth of the season. I snapped a few quick pics to immortalize the event in time I released her. Tom and I paddled a little further upstream until we hit a impassable riffle, which I picked up one more fish, but in no comparison in size to the previous. we started to float back towards our cars, casting along the way until the wind that was pushing up back up stream became to much to handle. As I loaded up the car for probably the last time of the season I reflected on this past season. I have not only made a lifetime of new memories, but some new lifelong friends. I signed on as prostaff for WCO. I was able to competed in several tournaments both local and afar, scored a first place in one. I have tons of new water that I would have never dreamed about fishing or tried. I crossed off a few new species off my bucket list and tried a myriad of new fishing techniques and tricks to try to score that fish that's bigger than everyone else's. So when people tell me I'm crazy for fishing in weather like this I just laugh to myself, because I'm not crazy I'm just creating memories. Until next time. Tight Lines. -Kyle P.

    

The dragon and the dragon slayer.

I loaded up my trusty steed with my largest of swords post night so I may make a hasty departure in the earlier morn. Having a restless night having dreamed of going toe to toe with the beast of legends and lore. As the dawn broke I arose to the sound of the crow, dawned my armor, mounted my steed and was off to the land the dragons. My journey to the land to north was long but pleasant, for my electric Baird was filling the air with rock of old. As I near my destination I stopped in the local market to pick up some daggers to add in my quest. Chatted with the local shopkeeper who was amused to hear I was going into battle upon the mule I had in tow behind my steed. I assured him that I was up for a challenge that only the noblest of knights take on. Shortly upon leaving the market I arrived at my battle grounds. I, being only a squire, enlisted the help of a local crusader. We geared up, mounted our stallions and went into battle.

Now if only if my story could be great enough to have stood toe to toe with Lancelot, King Arthur and the Round Table. Unfortunately this story is far from glamorous and exciting. As stated above I headed north in hopes of muskie, the fish of a thousand casts. I met up with Mike Densel at a local northern lake. Having never chased this elusive fish I was glad I had Mike there, helped past the endless drone of cast, retrieve, figure eight, repeat. We threw just about everything we had and covered almost every inch of the lake only to come up empty handed, not even one follower, one of the many fun qualities of the muskie. Even though I still have yet to put a check mark next to this on my "Fish to Catch Out of My Kayak" list I had a good time with a new fishing friend. I'm sure I will be going back to land of dragons in the future. But as for now this young squire, sore from burning baits that resemble boat anchors with the size to match, I am just going to dream and prepare for my next chance to go into battle. Until next time. Tight Lines. -Kyle P.