Friday, July 07, 2006

All Alone in the Dream of the Proud


After Wednesday's misadventure, I decided to try Kensico again.

I stopped at Wade's to pick up the bait. The young gentleman there said he finally got some "monsters," large sawbellies which should attract bigger fish. He suggested using egg sinkers exclusively and not bother with a bobber.

I made my way to the rock. I had two lines in the water by 2:30.

Then the wait began. I wasn't getting any bites.

A few times, I reeled in the lines to check the bait and recast. In about six hours of fishing, I caught enough seaweed and grass to create salads for an entire wedding party.

In the last couple of times I fished Kensico, my sawbellies died quickly. The gentleman at Wade's told me they need constant oxygen. To keep them alive and able to swim in the reservoir, I minimized the amount of time I took in getting them out of the bucket, attaching them to the hook, and casting them in the water. A couple of times, I even put them back in the bucket while they were still hooked to my line as I made some adjustments. Today, they seemed to last longer. I don't know if it was due to their larger size or my caution (or both).

The weather was cooperative. It was mostly cloudy with a slight breeze. The temperature was a little cooler, and that made it more pleasant.

Later in the day, I tried a Krocodile lure. I must have cast it at least 15 times before it got snagged on the bottom.

As I waited for a bite, I passed the time by reading the Wall Street Journal, which is delivered every morning on my doorstep, and the New York Post. I also laid back on the rock, looked up at the sky, and did some thinking.

The day got really frustrating. The gentleman at Wade's had told me that the best place to fish from shore is by the bridge. I was thinking that, next time, I should switch and try the bridge.

I saw at least three rowboats. In one boat, three fishermen made their way near the dam. Sound seems to carry well in the reservoir. Judging from their glee, which carried hundreds of feet to where I was, I could tell they had a better day fishing than I did.

At one point, I asked God, the Virgin Mary, and St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen, to catch just one fish before I went home. I even said one Our Father and one Hail Mary.

By evening, it got very beautiful. The passed behind some clouds, and the sky and water were bathed in a golden light.

As the day came to a close, I put one of the largest sawbellies I had on one line.

A short time later, I saw the line move. I cautiously picked up the rod. The line didn't go any further. I gently put the rod down. A minute or two later, I saw the line move again. I picked up the rod. I held onto the line, then gave it more slack. I saw it move away from shore. I reeled it in. I could tell I had something besides seaweed.

God answered my prayer to which I am thankful once again.

I caught a decent-sized fish. As I pulled it up, the line snapped. But it fell into a rocky plateau below. I climbed down and was able to retrive it. In the dusk, I thought it was a smallmouth bass, but it turned out to be a trout (I think, but I'm not exactly sure what kind). It measured 14 inches. This is the first trout I caught at Kensico in seven years. (I hope it's not another seven years until I catch another one.)

I guess I've caught too many catfish and think all fish will strike in the same way. Catfish violently attack the bait and nearly pull the rod into the water. Typically, the tip of the pole bends indicating a strike. This fish (and the two others I caught at Kensico back in May) were more passive and subtle. In all three cases, I wasn't sure that I hooked anything until I was reeling them in and saw them in the water.

I left the reservoir before darkness at 8:30. On the road, I ran into other fishermen who were on their way home. One man said he and his friends caught "a couple of small fish." I asked when was the best time to fish at Kensico in the morning or evening. They all agreed it's at dawn when I'm dead asleep. In 1996, during my summer of fishing, I made it to Kensico at daybreak a couple of times.

It's something I should try again.