Rare walleye catch indicates good health in the Henderson County, IL creek

Excerpt below from an original 2004 post detailing a creek fishing trip with Dad.

Although I fancy myself as a bass fisherman, I enjoy fishing, period. Creek fishing is always a welcome adventure for some multi-species angling so Dad and I set out for Pat’s Creek on July 29th. Armed with two dozen dew worms, you just never know what will tug on the end of your line. We ended up with lots of tugs on our lines before we headed for home, including one unusual and strong tug. More on that later.

This guy has done this before and knows long pants are a wise choice on the long walk to the fishing hole

Father Knows Best – Typically we reach the creek by skirting the edge of The Cornfield to Buffalo Head Tree. However, Dad decided it was better to cut through the wooded pasture area near The Pond, as both the weeds and the corn were rather high. Good idea, if you are wearing long pants (Dad) instead of shorts (Me). Multiflora rose briars are much less forgiving to skin than denim and mosquitoes prefer the pasture to the cornfield along with exposed skin versus jeans. The stinging nettles and poison ivy between Buffalo Head Tree and Where We Get In were simply icing on the cake. In Dad’s defense, I did get lost in the cornfield a couple years ago, so maybe he felt the alternate route was best.

Freshwater drum joins the list as you never know what your dew worm will attract

Attire – Speaking of proper creek attire, I tried out some new footwear. Sort of a “necessity is the mother of invention” type thing. The “necessity” arose when Dad cleaned his garage and decided the garbage was a good spot for the sandals I’d recently started wearing on creek adventures. Though not really an “invention”, the Aqua Sock is certainly a new addition to creek fishing fashion. These things consist of a solid rubber sole with an elastic upper portion that fits snug like a slipper around your entire foot. While such an experiment is not advised, I decided to give it a go rather than turn my good sandals into creek gear. Fortunately, they worked like a charm and hardly collected any creek bottom to take home due to their snug fit. Cornfield and pasture terrain were also navigated comfortably with Aqua Socks. Overall, a welcome addition despite probably being designed by some surfer-dude who has never been totally stoked by an awesome creek fishing trip.

A drum of my own, think I got the other guy by a few ounces, but it’s my story

Fall(s) In The Summer – Though much of the Summer has resembled Fall, this actually has nothing to do with the seasons. The “Fall(s)” described here can happen during any season of the year. Where We Get In consists of about a seven-foot weedy drop over less than ideal footing and ends in a mucky, stagnant pool of water with an extremely soft bottom. In spite of careful navigation, the slope continues to claim victims. Our outing was no exception. As usual, Dad led the way to the creek so I had a particularly good view of his less than graceful entrance into the creek as he lost his footing. Seeing that he hadn’t injured himself, I had to chuckle a bit to myself because it’s really kind of funny when it happens to someone else. Fortunately, Dad was not looking when I essentially duplicated his feat, ending up on my rear end and laughing again, this time at myself. My laughter (or possibly the thud) betrayed me, as Dad knew exactly what had happened before he even had to look.

Improvisation in desperation as detailed below

Bait – Our two dozen worms only survived to The Culvert, leaving a couple popular fishing holes untouched on this adventure. However, it’s hard to complain as running out of bait typically means a lot of bites. Near the end, we began using only half of a worm on each cast as well as trying to salvage any portions remaining after hooking a fish. Finally, Dad left me a dead worm that he found on the bank as he quit in order to clean some of the catfish that we kept. I managed to catch a 3/4-pound catfish on the dead worm but the fish didn’t leave any portion remaining. Following a futile attempt to unearth some sandworms, I headed up the bank for some field corn as a last ditch effort. It was worth the climb as a 4-9 carp found the offering too much to resist.

Anybody got a 1977 Topps Andujar to trade, always liked the shot but mine is severely damaged

Youneverknow – An interesting major league pitcher for the Astros, Cardinals and Athletics, Joaquin Andujar, once stated that his favorite word in English was, “Youneverknow’.” The same can be said of fishing as an instance on this trip reinforced. Less than fifteen minutes into our outing we’d already hooked three catfish and a creek chub near the downstream section of a brushpile across from Where We Get In. Figuring there had to be a few hanging out on the upstream portion of the brushpile, I navigated my way around some logs and washouts until I was positioned just right. Following a well-placed cast, I felt the anticipated tap as a fish picked up my dew worm for breakfast. Ramming the hook home, I was rewarded with a heavy tug on the other end and got Dad’s attention with “I’ve got a good one.” About that time, fur came into view and Dad headed for the bank as an unhappy beaver broke the surface a few yards away from him. No sooner than it had emerged, the beaver dove again to the safety of the brushpile and got me snagged in the logs. After a few pulls, the hook dislodged and Dad and I were simply left shaking our heads trying to digest what had just happened. Mind you, the whole sequence of events took place in the span of five to ten seconds. Dad estimated the beaver at between 30-40 pounds based on his proximity and years of experience trapping.

Yep, youneverknow.

Talktoyoulater. Troy

Today we flash back 25 years to a Henderson County bankpole fishing trip with me, Dad and Brent. The destination was a place we called “Pat’s Creek” which ran through a stretch of the middle of nowhere in the proximity of Little York, Bald Bluff and Rozetta, if that helps you get a feel for the location.

Lots of adventures in this remote triangle, a great place to get lost for many years

Creek Attire 101 – a fine candidate for “creek shoes”

Bearing the tools of the trade through the cornfield to the creek

Beyond permission, all you need are some quality “creek shoes”, some cut willows rigged up with line, sinker and hook, some bait (minnows, cutbait, crawdads, worms or even some corn) and a little energy to trek from truck through cornfield and into the creek and back. Oh yeah, a little courage too when it comes to poison ivy, bull nettles, hidden subsurface obstructions, mosquitoes, snakes, snapping turtles and those spots where the water gets to that certain spot in the anatomy that makes you breathe funny.

The creek is just over there, at the tree line

Not quite up to our necks in it but well past that breathe funny spot

Definitely all worth it as your party enjoys the welcome sights of “Pat’s House”, “The Trashpile” and “Buffalo Head Tree” on your way to “Where We Get In.” And before you eventually reach “Where We Get Out” you wade past “The Brushpile”, “The Roots”, “The Deep Hole”, “The Bridge”, “The Culvert” and “The German Torpedo” (a story for some other day).

Looking towards “The Riffle” and “The German Torpedo”

“The Culvert”, obviously

“The Bridge”, location of the historic find of the little boat I still drag around the strip mines

An “in action” pic of our 1994 haul

Always brings a smile looking back at the pics and daydreaming of a summer morning wading the creek (rhymes with “stick”, by the way). Talk to you later.

Presenting the “Misfit Tacklebox” 

Quite a few years ago, I came up with this idea to take a batch of old lures that I just had to have or that somehow wound up in my tacklebox and see if they could actually fool a bass. In an excerpt from the original 2014 intro post here’s a little background (along with some of the original photos passed along in each of the 14 posts in the series as there was a separate post for each lure).

Sometime back in 2010 I got this brilliant idea for a fishing experiment. Emiquon was at its peak, I was getting in tune with being a blogger and I had more than a few utility boxes full of must have lures that had never caught a fish. It dawned on me that the dumb bass of The Emiquon Preserve could provide a perfect opportunity to finally get some return on my investment in that batch of “can’t miss” lures. Well, I wound up missing my window of opportunity as I got too carried away catching Emiquon bass on stuff I liked to throw and the next thing I knew those uneducated bass started to wise up to public angling pressure.

Fast forward to late September 2013 when I found a remote batch of dumb basses on some public Knox County strip mine ground. Forgive me, but I can’t resist resorting to an old comedy standard regarding these fish.

Okay, so I say, “Those strip mine bass are so dumb.”

You inquire, “How dumb are they?”

I respond, “Those bass are so dumb that I would take a bite of my sandwich, cast out twice, catch and unhook two bass while I chewed and entered them in the log, take another bite, repeat…”

That’s a true story as I wound up catching 12 bass in 15 minutes during my first visit to the spot while eating a sandwich and documenting my catch.

So, as it turned out I gave 14 lures a shot in a project that I called “The Island of Misfit Lures.” In terms of numbers it was a rousing success as all of them landed a bass (one of them even fooled a double). In terms of quality, however, all were of the less than stellar size in a spot that I call Cottonwood Lake.

Perhaps someday I’ll dust off that old Misfit tacklebox again but for now I’m intent on sticking with the tried and true. Talk to you later. Troy

Similar to last week’s Friday Flashback I was back at a Bassmaster event nearly fifteen years to the day from the 1994 Bassmaster Superstars. Things sure had changed.

Originally Posted 6-17-09 as “Amateur Observations”

On June 12, we took a family trip down to Fort Madison, Iowa to check out the day two weigh in of the four day Bassmaster Elite Series event “The River Rumble” on the mighty Mississippi River. It is the seventh of eight regular season events in the series that will eventually help determine the Toyota Tundra Bassmaster Angler of the Year title. The series features the sport’s top bass fishermen and points are awarded based on an angler’s finish at each event. Perhaps this background information and my passion for fishing may help to explain why I considered a bass tournament weigh-in a good idea for a family outing.

It was certainly a challenge for Julie and I to contend with three kids whose combined age’s total just less than eight years old (Helena turns five on 7/1, Carly three on 7/9 and Jayce was a whole fifteen days old). At various times during our journey, I felt like patting myself on the back with one hand and slapping myself upside the head with the other. At any rate we survived a trip that lasted roughly six hours with approximately thirty minutes actually spent watching roughly a dozen of the 100 anglers bring their catch to the scales. The remainder was spent driving, walking, going potty, nursing a baby, changing his diapers and dining at Taco John’s in Burlington. The last item was Helena’s favorite portion of the ordeal as she was quite excited upon learning that we were going to eat at a restaurant (that’s kind of a rarity on our budget these days).

Anyway, on our way home, Julie commented that she was “excited just to see me excited.” It made me feel good as I was just beginning to daydream away the final stages of brooding over a plan that seemed like a good idea about four challenging hours before. I had no idea that some of what I was feeling about being in the presence of the bass fishing legends had actually shone through my outward frustration. The spectacle for me was what I would call a “Wrigley Field moment.” You can watch it on television, look at the pictures or see it in print, but being there takes your breath away every time. One of those goosebump, loss for words and can’t wipe the smile off of your face experiences; I felt like a fourth little kid in our party despite being a month away from turning forty-two.

Skeet Reese’s monster vehicle with boat in tow

The only other Bass Anglers Sportsman Society event I’d attended was with my brother, Brent, back in 1994 and the weigh-in took place inside of the Peoria Civic Center. While it was exciting it seemed much less accessible than the intimate setting I found at Fort Madison’s Riverview Park. We strolled along the riverfront right next to the competitor’s rigs and stepped aside as anglers cruised by on golf carts. We watched Michael Iaconelli (2003 Bassmaster Classic winner) and Guy Eaker (30 year tour veteran who waved at me and Carly) drive by on their way to the stage and were dwarfed by Ish Monroe’s “monster truck” of a tow vehicle as he stopped near us to chat with a fellow angler. My newest little fisherman and I also got our photo taken standing next to Kevin VanDam’s truck and boat (2001 & 2005 Classic winner and four time Angler of the Year). I also killed some time watching Takahiro Omori (Japanese born angler and 2004 Bassmaster Classic winner) as he checked his equipment and filled his reels with fresh line as Julie was nursing Jayce (discreetly) in our car a mere fifteen feet away. How cool is that?

Me and my two-week old boy, Jayce, checking out Kevin VanDam’s setup

I must admit a bit of envy as we passed by dozens of decked out and decorated tow vehicles and fully equipped bass boats. Gargantuan motors, power pole anchoring devices, an array of electronic gadgetry, used baits and the rigged rods of bass fishing’s elite were all right there on public display. Famous anglers milled about, many with their families in tow, discussing strategies or just simply visiting. Some passed each other without a word while others stopped to chat like old friends. I tried to put myself in their shoes; you’re tired, perhaps frustrated by your day on the water, you’ve got your boat and gear to attend to, you’re hungry, you want to spend time with your family, and so on. Throw in the fact that everyone’s after a limited amount of prize money and it has all the makings of quite a challenging career.

Coming out of my reverie, I also thought about how it’s likely not as glamorous as it might look on television or in the magazines. For one thing, you earn all that fancy stuff by “catching” bass and if you can’t do it consistently all over the country, year in and year out, the sponsors will find someone who can. With my recent struggles, my family would be living in a tent and eating ramen noodles (uncooked).

Secondly, although many anglers were joined by their wife and kids, that was likely due to summer break. I’ve been fortunate to have had a front row seat for each of my kids being born, never missed a tumbling recital, open house, doctor’s appointment, school carnival and so on. Things don’t work out so favorably with some other jobs, pro bass fisherman included, I’m sure.

Thirdly, have you ever spent eight hours bass fishing? I have, and my approach doesn’t hold a candle to the wear and tear these guys go through each day on the water. I don’t consider myself old by any stretch, but working from the ground up I typically have sore heels, ankles, knees, back and hands by the end of the day. Now try that for a couple practice days, followed by four consecutive tournament days (if you are skilled enough to make the cut after the preliminary rounds) multiplied by numerous events over the course of the year. I’d like to think I’m that tough, but I’m not.

The legendary Rick Clunn weighs in and incredibly is still a competitive force in 2019

One of the anglers who have proven quite capable of enduring the grind is Rick Clunn. I was pleased that he was one of the anglers that we had the fortune of observing as he weighed in his catch. I’ve got twenty-five years of Bassmaster magazines stashed away in the basement and Clunn has been a force to be reckoned with for all of those years, and then some. He’s been fishing the circuit since 1974 and has four Bassmaster Classic titles (a record), easily making him a living legend. It was refreshing to hear him expound on the tough conditions of our mighty river. I was encouraged to find that even the world’s most talented bass fisherman still have days when it’s tough to figure out a little green fish.

I considered a return trip for Sunday’s finale but with the field pared down from 100 to 50 for Saturday and further to 12 for Sunday I felt as if I’d already seen the best part of the spectacle amidst a much smaller crowd of fans. While there was a children’s carnival slated for Saturday and Sunday afternoons, I was more partial towards checking out the lineup of 100 loaded rigs that likely have price tags in excess of the value of my home, annual salary and battered retirement fund combined.

Carly and Jayce strike a pose aside the rig of eventual winner, Kevin Short

Oh, by the way, the winner of the River Rumble was Kevin Short, a knowledgeable river angler hailing from Mayflower, Arkansas. It just so happens that his rig was one of the first two parked along the riverfront as we made our way to the stage. As a result, I’ve got a photo of Carly and Jayce in the stroller alongside his boat and trailer. What are the odds? Well, considering that I only took pictures of five of the 100 different rigs, I suppose they were 20:1.

Whew! A little longwinded there as I was prone to do back in those days. Sometimes you’ve just got a lot to say and I’ll leave it at that. Talk to you later. Troy

Today’s catch comes from a time when I used to have a big lake in my backyard.

Lake Bracken sits south of Galesburg, covers about 170 acres and intermittently over the course of 20 plus years I saw them all. Funny thing with this fish though is that I caught it about as far from my backyard as one could get. That particular stretch of bank running east from the lone boat ramp was always good for a few bites but this fish was easily the biggest of that bunch over the years.

No surprise on the lure that fooled it as “The Blue Glimmer” was a Lake Bracken standout and an overall solid producer in the 90s. It has long been out of production but I do have one more left and several others that are banged up and need dressed with new skirts. I did bust one out a couple years ago at Lake Storey but sadly it lost a blade after fooling a few bass. Not sure if I’ll unveil the lone “new” one I have left or just keep it in the package for old time’s sake.

While this was a good fish, a look at the log indicates that it otherwise wasn’t a very productive outing. In fact, I only managed one other short bass during three hours on the water. Oh well, if I am only going to fool a couple bass it sure is nice when one of them tops the four-pound mark.

Talk to you later. Troy