Cold Comfort For Change?

   My last fishing trip of 2014 took place on September 9 in Riverdale. I probably enjoyed the cloudy weather.

    I caught two small stripers, the first measuring nine inches and the second measuring seven.

Running Over the Same Old Ground

   My next fishing trip was a week later on June 20, 2014 in Riverdale. I fished past sunset and left around 9:30 PM when it was dark,

   According to the photos I took, I caught three fish: a small, five-inch flounder and two perch measuring seven inches each.

Where the Speechless Unite in a Silent Accord

I hope the three of you who regularly visit my fishing blog will forgive three months of silence.

My last fishing trip was on Tuesday, August 6, 2013 on the Hudson River in Riverdale. Fortunately, I was smart enough to take detailed notes.

I decided to go fishing that particular day on the advice of In-Fisherman's solunar calendar, which forecast excellent fishing for August 6.

In a previous post, I wrote about my frustrations with fishing in August. I am pleased to report that I finally caught an "August fish."

According to my notes, I started fishing at 10:45 AM. I picked the first area on the promenade instead of my usual one. It was sunny, warm, but with no wind.

I began with two lines in the water. At 11:10 AM, I reeled in a 17-inch striped bass. I was overjoyed, not only because I finally caught an "August fish" but because it was also a large one. As is my custom, I thanked God for delivering it and soon released it.

At 11:25, I had a third line in the water. Using three rods in such a small space can result in the lines getting tangled. So I have to make sure I cast them far apart. If there is a moderate wind, I then use only two lines in Riverdale.

The fish were certainly active. In a 20-minute span (11:45 to 12:05), I experienced a number of hits, including a big one, but I failed to hook anything.

As the day went on, the weather began to change. The clouds moved in and eventually blocked out the sun. It also cooled quite noticeably. The tide was also receding.

I changed the bait frequently and recast my lines. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch anything else. Happy that I caught something and something large, I went home around 1:45 PM.

You Know You're Nobody's Fool

   My last fishing experience was ten days ago, Tuesday, June 11. I've been a little distracted and run down recently, which I hope explains the frequent delays in posting. My three regular readers should not worry. I have no plans--and no need--to return to the disabled list. Anticipating that I might update my blog days later, I wisely decided to taje detailed notes during the trip.

   I returned to Alpine, New Jersey once again. This time, in addition to bloodworms, I also bought a pint of clams at Jack's to use as bait. A search of my blog's archives shows that I used clams twice before, but I didn't catch anything with them.

   Anticipating the traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway, I left home around 10 AM. After picking up the bait, I got to Alpine around 11:15 or so, and had three lines in the water by 11:30 AM. The solunar calendar reported that the best time to fish began at 12:49 PM. The area, as I prefer, was deserted. When I started, the sun was out, and it was hot and humid. So I removed my jacket.

   A short time after I began fishing, I started getting hits with the clams. Since this happened long before the "best time," I hoped I would have a great day fishing. Unfortunately, I couldn't catch anything with the clams. Whatever was going after them was just playing with the bait--just nibbling and picking at it--while avoiding the hook. At one point, from a distance, I saw something large stick its head out of the water maybe to catch a fly. I don't know if it was a fish or some other animal. Most fish tend to jump out of the water rather than sticking their heads out.

   At 12:30 PM, I reeled in a perch. It was small, measuring between nine and ten inches. I threw it back.

   I continued to have hits with the clams and even the bloodworms for the next hour, but I couldn't catch anything. As usual, I began to get frustrated.

   At 1:49 PM, I had my second and third catches of the day. I caught two small crabs that were stuck together. The smaller one was somehow attached below the larger one. Was the smaller the offspring of the larger? I managed to throw the larger one back. The smaller one, however, crawled away, and every time I went near it, the little crab began moving and snapping its claws. So I left it alone.

   When fishing, I've caught crabs before. However, the experience reminded me that a number of the many hits I've been getting were likely crabs snapping at the bait and smaller perch. Still, a fisherman shouldn't get picky.

   At one point, I had a hit that caused my rod to tip over. It seemed like a big fish, but it let go.

   I also had to deal with the rapidly changing weather. By 2:19, the rain started. A brief fog once again obscured the George Washington Bridge. (The Elizabeth Dane, fortunately, was nowhere in sight.) By 3:30, the sun was out again.

   The tide was going out. The "best time" had passed. I thanked God for what I caught. I gave up at 4:30.

 

 

Remembering Games and Daisy Chains and Laughs

I've been a little scatter-brained in the last few days and have failed to update my blog in a timely fashion.

Last Friday (May 17), I returned to the Alpine, New Jersey at the very same spot I fished last time. I brought a third fishing rod with me. I don't believe I've used it since the late 1990s or so. I cleaned and respooled it. It has an Abu Garcia baitcast reel, which is designed for longer casts (at least for fisherman who know what they're doing), with a baitcasting rod. I know I've caught a few fish with this one, but I can't remember how many and how big.

I got to the area around 3:10 or so. The sun was out, and there was a slight breeze. I had numerous hits on all three lines, but for the first few hours, I didn't hook anything. Naturally, I often reeled in the lines to check the bait. Quite often, the hooks were cleaned off. Other times, the partially-devoured bloodworm was still on. I tried different types of hooks, but it made no difference. Near the end of the trip, I was overcome by a sense of disappointment. I can't remember a fishing trip where I had so many hits or opportunities, but failed to land a single fish. I realized this was also a cruel metaphor for my life. As is my custom with despair, I asked for St. Peter's help. I should point out that prayers aren't magic spells. God's answer can always be a "no" or, as I've realized in the last two decades, a "not know." But today, St. Peter delivered.

I reeled in a perch, which measured 10 inches. I looked up and thanked God for rescuing my day. I also realized that most of the hits I was getting was probably from the perch in the river. I don't mind catching perch, but I certainly prefer a stripped bass or a catfish. Since I haven't had much luck with fresh bunker in a long time, I've focused on bloodworms for bait. I know I should try others.

Coming Back to Life

Today (April 30), I made my second visit to Hudson Park in New Rochelle. I just took one dozen bloodworms and intended to stay for about two hours. When I planned my trip, I not only took note of high tide but also made use of In-Fisherman's online solunar calendar. It reported a "Major Moon Period"--when the moon would be overhead or underfoot--between 3:26 PM and 5:26 PM. Many fishermen have long believed that various phases of the moon affect the feeding patterns of fish.

By 3:15 PM, I had two lines in the water. After the traumatic and once-in-a-lifetime incident I experienced last week, which resulted in my oldest and favorite fishing rod go missing, I was a little overly cautious. I was on the lookout for birds and was extra careful to make sure my poles wouldn't fall into the water below. The sun was shining brightly, and there was a slight wind. It felt much colder than the reported 65 degrees.

I had no action in the first hour. I eventually got one hit, but I didn't hook anything. Whatever it was, it just nibbled at the bait. The bite gave me hope that I might catch something here for the first time in years. As I waited, I passed the time listening to my iPod and smoking my pipe. I went through my "Country" playlist. Marty Robbins' classic cover of the old Western ballad, "The Streets of Laredo," is a personal favorite. I listen to the song quite frequently, perhaps because I tend to identify with the dying, repentant cowboy in the song who comes to the harsh realization that he alone is responsible for his own tragic plight and sad exit. No doubt, "The Streets of Laredo," is a sad song, but it also conveys hope through personal redemption and the cowboy's struggle to maintain his dignity in his final minutes by seeking companionship with a passerby, some cool water to quench his thirst, and a request for a solemn funeral after he "goes to his Maker."

In the second hour, I reeled in one line to check the bait. I immediately noticed that the line was heavy. Since I was able to reel it in--without a fight--I obviously didn't get it caught on an underwater rock. Did I catch some garbage? When I pulled up the line, I saw that I caught a flounder--my very first. I was thrilled. It measured about 14 inches. A fellow fisherman nearby me congratulated me. Since it was really sunny, I wasn't able to get a clear picture. I cut it loose and returned it to the water.

I gave up around 5:30. We'll see what the month of May brings.

That'll Keep You Going Through the Show

   Today, I returned to the Hudson River in Riverdale, the site of both personal triumphs and disappointments.

   This is one fishing trip I'll always remember--for different reasons.

   I prepped for the trip a couple of days ago by checking tide charts and a solunar calendar. The latter reported the best time to fish would be for a two-hour window in the late afternoon.

   I bought two fresh bunker, three frozen herring, and two dozen bloodworms from Jack's. When I got to the Riverdale Metro North Station, I couldn't find an empty space. However, the attendant, whom I've seen several times before, let me park near the entrance in an illegal spot for nothing.

   I went to the last area on the promenade. By 3:30 or so, I had two lines in the water, one with a bloodworm and one with a piece of fresh bunker. I had no bites for the first 30 minutes or so.

   At one point, I replaced the treble hook on my Ugly Stik pole with a single one with a longer shank, which seemed better for bloodworms. My judgment, for the first time in a while, proved correct.

  I immediately got a hit. When I was certain that I hooked something, I began to reel it in. I caught a 17-inch striped bass. I thanked God for enabling me to catch something sizable for the first time since 2009. I released the fish back into the water.

  As I waited for another hit, I settled into my usual routine, listening to music (Bruce Springsteen) and using my cellphone to access the Internet. Every fisherman faces the possibility of losing his rod in the water through some unforeseen circumstance such as dropping it in the water or having a pretty big fish run away with it.

  As I was looking down at my cellphone, I startled by a noise and looked up to see BOTH of my fishing poles go over the metal railing and into the river. Apparently, a rather large bird--a member of either the duck or gull family (or something else)--collided with my fishing lines in midair and pulled them into the water. When I fish, I always keep the anti-reverse switch locked, so I know when I have a hit. If I didn't, I would never know when I got a hit, especially when casting into a flowing river.

   I just stood there in disbelief. Nothing like this ever happened. Once, when fishing on the Potomac River in a rowboat, I reached over to get something, and my glasses and rosary fell out my shirt pocket into the water. But I've never lost a rod.

  One of the rods I lost was the very first one I ever bought, a black Ugly Stik I bought from a Sports Authority in Maryland in 1996. It's been with me on many trips. The other one that fell in was my long, two-piece blue one. I soon saw it floating in the water. Unfortunately, it was too far out to reach from below. It seemed to go back and forth. Did I hook something? Fortunately, the current didn't catch it.

 

   I made a couple of attempts to reach it. I carefully went down the rocks. As the tide recedes, you can see the previously-submerged rocks, which are covered with slippery, green moss. I had to be extra careful not to slip and break something else. On a second attempt, it was still out of reach. Finally, I went into the water up to my knees and successfully retrieved it. I reeled in the line, and the fresh bunker was still attached to it. I escaped the water quite wet and with my jeans covered in green moss. This whole process must have taken one hour.

   I changed the bait and put a bloodworm on the hook and cast it. I was hoping the receding tide would reveal where my Ugly Stick was, but I never saw it again. Maybe it will wash back in with the tides. Of course, a visitor might find it and figure some idiot threw it away in frustration.

   I had a few more hits, but nothing else got hooked. I stayed until 8 PM and then went home, where I threw my clothes into the wash. I watched the rest of the Yankee game and then Psych.

A Flight of Fancy on a Wind-Swept Field

Yesterday, I went to the Hudson River in Riverdale.

I bought two fresh bunker, two dozen bloodworms, and some supplies at Jack's.

After parking my car in the Metro North lot, I picked the last spot on the promenade area. Conditions were sunny and quite windy. Because of the wind, I used only two poles. I made my usual intercession to St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen, and he responded.

I had my lines in the water by around 3 PM, a couple of hours before high tide. I didn't have bites the first couple of hours. I passed the time listening to my iPod and smoking a Butera Capo Grande cigar.

In the end, I caught three fish, one small perch and two small stripers. The perch measured about seven inches. The first striper was only six inches. The second was about seven-and-a-half inches. I caught all three with blood worms and returned all three to the water.

To date, I have suffered one major injury while fishing. Yesterday, a bloodworm bit my right index finger. It happened as I was removing it from the box in order to bait my rod. Yes, bloodworms have teeth. I've been bitten a few times before. This time, my index finger hurt. The pain seemed to go all the way to the bone. When I got home, I applied some Neosporin ointment and wrapped my finger in a bandage. The pain gradually went away. It's fine today. Even with bait, always be careful.

As the evening set in, the wind calmed down. Although it got colder, it was quite pleasant.

I left around 8 PM as darkness set in. I dumped the two fresh bunker, but the took the second box of bloodworms home with me. We have a refrigerator in the basement and can store them there for next time. Next time I come to Riverdale, I would like to try eels as well.

As always, I'm glad I caught something.

Author's Note: Sooner rather than later, I will start reusing Pink Floyd lyrics for my posts' titles.

I Do Believe It's Working, Good

On Thursday (May 28), I went fishing in Riverdale. (I know it's been a few days, so my recollections may not be as fresh.)

After buying two dozen bloodworms, I got there around 2:15. I made a couple of changes. First, I fished in the first viewing area on the promenade instead of my usual last. Second, I brought three rods with me instead of two. The second time I fished in Riverdale, I got two lines tangled. This time, I figured that if I carefully cast them, I would avoid getting them tangled.

It was cool and extremely cloudy. There was also a lot of fog, which got thicker as the day went on. The one good thing about fishing on a weekday, especially when the weather is bad, is that there is no else around.

I had a couple of hits early on, but I didn't catch anything. I read a little more of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. (Did I ever mention that I'm a slow reader?) I listened to my iPod. I said my novenas and a rosary. (Yes, St. Jude and St. Peter delivered once again.)

After about two hours, I caught a perch. It was nine inches long. I threw it back.

Bringing a third pole turned out to be a smart move. I didn't get my lines tangled. A short time later, a second fish got itself hooked. I reeled it in and brought to some rocks below. The fish then got unhooked and disappeared into the rocks. To me, catching a fish means gaining power over it--keeping it or releasing it. I carefully climbed down on the rocks to see if I could get it, but I didn't see it.

I lost a second fish in those same rocks. My line just snapped, and the fish fell off. It wasn't that big. Determined to get it, I climbed back down. The seaweed on the some of the rocks, which are covered by the water when the tide comes in, makes them slippery.

I managed to fish the fish, a small perch. I also found the other fish, a tiny perch. I put them on the viewing area and climbed back up. Since they were small, I didn't bother measuring them. After taking their picture, I returned them to the river. With a little effort, I managed to double the number of fish I caught today.

Yes, I caught one more fish, a striper. This one measured 11 inches, but didn't weigh back. Unfortunately, it swallowed the hook, and I couldn't get it out. So I threw it back with the hook stuck down its throat.

I don't remember when exactly, but the fog moved on the river from both the north and south. On the south side, the George Washington Bridge disappeared behind the thick fog. I also brought my binoculars to see what was on the New Jersey side of the Hudson. The Jersey side looks like a big wall. You can see some rocky areas as well as trees. Perhaps 45 degrees on my right side, I saw what I thought was a dock with boats. I also spotted what looked like a path, but I didn't see any cars.

I left around 6:30 or so even though I still had plenty of bait. The tide got low, and I didn't expect any more fish.

As always, I'm glad I caught something, but I found myself asking, "Where were the big fish today?"

That'll Keep You Going For the Show

Yesterday (Sunday), I went to Riverdale, a spot that has been quite good to me.

I began the trip, as I usually do, by picking up bait at Jack's. Much to my horror, Big John told me they were out of bloodworms. I just bought a couple of fresh bunker. Before going fishing, I was determined to find some bloodworms. I stopped at Island Bait and Tackle, another shop on City Island. Fortunately, they had bloodworms. I also noticed that they sell "large" bloodworms. They didn't have any of those, so I just bought two dozen "regular" ones.

I got to Riverdale around 3:15, about 75 minutes before high tide. Someone left his open, unpaid Verizon DSL bill on the seat. (Today, I resealed the envelope with a note telling the man that he shouldn't leave important bills in public places and dropped it into a mailbox.)

I used two poles, the ones I respooled last time. I used a bloodworm on one and fresh bunker on the other.

When I got there, it was very overcast and windy. The water was raging. I didn't let that deter me since I remember catching a couple of big catfish in Dobbs Ferry when a strong wind stirred up the river. It also started to rain a little, but it eventually stopped and dried out. My problem was the cold. I left my jacket at home, which I regretted. It was in the 50s, but it felt more like the late 40s.

I didn't have any bites. I checked the bloodworm line and saw that I lost the bait a couple of times. Did a fish or crab slip it off or did the impact of hitting the water dislodge them? Who knows.

The first fish I caught was striper. It didn't weigh much and measured almost 11 inches. I threw it back.

I eventually switched my second line to a bloodworm. I had a number of bites, but the fish never managed to hook themselves. I often replaced the bait that was gnawed away or completely removed.

Later in the day, I was determined to keep a piece of fresh bunker on a line for an extended period. But I had no hits with it. After losing the bunker when I recast the line, I permanently switched to bloodworms. Since I usually get two dozen, they don't go fast.

As usual, I listened to my iPod. I also began reading Douglas Adams' The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (1979, 1985 paperback edition), which I've had on my shelf since the mid-1980s.

I caught only one more fish. This one was a perch, heavier than the striper I caught earlier, but about 11 inches.

Although I was grateful, as always, at catching something, I still felt disappointed. Why didn't I catch more fish or something bigger? Maybe I should use different hooks and experiment with different baits.

I left around 8 PM.

Outside the Rain Fell Dark and Slow

Yesterday (Friday), I went to Riverdale for some late afternoon fishing. I bought two dozen bloodworms at Jack's. (I decided to skip the eels this time.)

I got to the Metro-North station around 4:20. I managed to find a parking spot near the entrance, which I interpreted as a good sign. I paid the weekday, $3.25 parking fee.

The promenade was deserted. Like I did the last few times, I set up shop in the last viewing area. By 4:30, I had my two lines in the water.

The weather was cool and occasionally breezy. Since I expected rain, I dressed for it. The skies were dark gray, but it rained only a little. At times, there was a layer of foggy mist on top of the water, which I thought was quite beautiful. I started fishing as the tide was going out.

Whenever I go fishing and a slight rain falls, I'm always reminded of that afternoon I spent in a boat on the Potomac River in Washington, D.C. in May 1997. If you recall, I mentioned that experience in my very first post. Back then, I had just passed the comprehensive exam to earn my Master's Degree. Although I did the best academic work of my life, graduate school was often brutal, and I was relieved that I made it to the finish line. That day on the Potomac, I caught a few perch and a large catfish, which increased my already-celebratory mood.

With that Potomac memory in mind, I was in a great mood in Riverdale. Once again, I remembered to seek St. Peter's intercession. And once again, he didn't disappoint.

I admit that I expected to catch a lot of fish. Instead, I caught only one small striped bass, which measured 10 inches. I did have a number of bites on both poles, but only one fish managed to hook itself.

When I usually attach a bloodworm to the hook, it usually spurts a little blood. In turn, the blood attracts the fish. Most of the worms I used didn't shed any blood. I wonder if Jack's gave me some nightcrawlers by mistake.

I passed the time by smoking a cigar and listening to my iPod. I enjoyed Pink Floyd, Lita Ford, the Temptations, and Smokey Robinson and the Miracles, among others.

I gave up slightly after 8 PM. It got dark, and the tide was low. Although I caught only one fish, I felt really good today, and I'm glad I went.

I was planning to try Kensico and even got my gear ready. But the Web site for Wade's Bait and Tackle said that they would be out of sawbellies for a couple of days.

We'll see what the week brings.

Ice Is Forming on the Tips of My Wings

Today, on this Holy Thursday, I went up to Five Islands Park in New Rochelle, where I failed to catch a single fish in four previous attempts. Although it's been a chilly Holy Week, it was a little warmer today. I left my jacket at home, which turned out to be a mistake. Why did go back to an area where I have had absolutely no luck? I was eager to try blood worms.

I got one frozen bunker and two dozen blood worms at Jack's. As I walked to area, I immediately picked up the strong wind. There were three teenagers on the dock, so I started fishing nearby in shallow water.

The sun was out. The tide was going out. It was quite windy. Certainly, these aren't the fishing conditions I look forward to.

The teens eventually left, and I moved to the dock. By 1:45 or so, I had three lines in the water, all with blood worms.

After one strong wind gust (which lead me to conclude that I wouldn't catch anything and going fishing today might have been a mistake), I asked St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen, for help. He soon delivered.

I was sitting in my chair and catching up with my novenas for the day when I had action on one of my lines. I got up, reeled it in little, and noticed the line moving away from shore. I began to reel it in and felt something sizable on the line. I got it to the dock, reached down into the water, and carefully pulled out a big striped bass.

I was ecstatic! I finally caught something in Five Islands Park, and I caught something big today. The striper measured about 20 inches. I unhooked him, thanked St. Peter for his intercession, and released the fish back into the water.

Much later, I reeled in one line to check it. I noticed I had something, but it wasn't a fish. Was it garbage or perhaps a crab? It turned to be four or five mussel shells stuck together. A couple were empty, and the rest were closed. It took a little effort to pry my hook loose. I threw the shells back.

I eventually attached a piece of thawed-out bunker to one line and placed fresh bloodworms on the other two. Unfortunately, I didn't have anymore bites. The tide was going out. The wind got stronger. The temperature also dropped noticeably.

Thinking I had a great day fishing, I packed up my gear around 4:30. I dumped the bunker in the water. I don't know why, but I didn't dump the worms in the water, as I usually do. I was planning to throw them in the garbage. As I was leaving, I noticed two kids with fishing poles making theie way to the dock. I told them about the striper I caught. I also gave them the rest of my blood worms. They were grateful since they had only lures and no live bait.

Today's success established my faith that this area can be good for fishing. I had been losing hope in it. We'll see what happens in the next few months.

Coming Through in Waves

The forecast called for a pleasant Palm Sunday. So I decided to go fishing. During the late morning, I fell asleep watching Alien (1979). After waking up in mid-afternoon, I left the house. I didn't know whether to try Hudson Park in New Rochelle or the Hudson River in Riverdale.

I went to Jack's and bought one frozen bunker, two frozen herring, and two dozen blood worms. I decided to go to Hudson Park. When I got there, however, I saw how bone-dry the area was at low tide. Since I didn't think I would have any luck, I immediately headed to Riverdale. I got there around 4:20 or so. I intended to stay until dark or until someone with a badge kicked me out in order to lock up the area.

I brought two poles with me and went to the last viewing area on the promenade. There was a couple sitting on one of the two park benches. I politely said hello and began to bait my lines. The bunker needed more time to thaw out. So I used one blood worm and one herring. I carefully cast my lines, making sure to avoid snagging my line on the nearby bush or hitting the couple on the bench. I took out my camera, and I noticed it wasn't charged. So I had to use my Blackberry Pearl to take pictures.

Conditions were near perfect. It was a bright, sunny day with a slight breeze. (By contrast, we practically got a wind storm yesterday.) I didn't need my jacket.

As I waited for a bite, I listened to my iPod. The couple eventually left. I then prayed my novenas for the day (including for a friend who is seriously ill). Not too long ago, I prayed a novena to St. Jude, asking to catch a lot of fish this season. He delivered.

I got a couple of bites in the first hour with the blood worm, which raised my hopes that I would not leave here disappointed. A man showed up, said hello, sat down on the bench, and began reading.

After about an hour, I had another bite. I reeled it in and lifted a striped bass out of the water. It didn't weigh much but measured nine inches. I threw it back. This turned out to be the first of seven fish I caught today. I haven't caught this many in one day since starting this blog.

I then caught a fat, little perch, which measured eight inches. I returned him to the water. After the bunker thawed, I attached a piece on my second line. I kept using blood worms on the first, which caught the striper and the perch. I didn't have any luck (meaning bites) with the bunker or herring. But with blood worms, I kept getting hits, so I soon switched my second line to them. Since I bought two dozen of them, it seemed like the smart thing to do.

As the evening set in, I kept getting hits, occasionally on both lines at once. I caught one more perch and then four more stripers. The the second striper I caught (and the fourth fish of the day) measured 11 inches. It was the longest fish I caught today. (There others were about the same size.) I threw them all back.

I gave up around 8 PM. I dumped the rest of the bait and went home.

What puzzles me is why I never had much luck with blood worms when I fished the Hudson River in Dobbs Ferry. But the two of three times I've fished here in Riverdale, the fish (and not just the perch) went for the blood worms. (Time will tell if I catch a catfish here.)

I know I'll be back here frequently, but I'll try not to get too complacent.

This is what a broken-down, washed-up loser like me needed... a good day.

I Knew the Moment Had Arrived

Today, I followed through on a pledge I recently made to try the Hudson River in Riverdale before shutting down for the winter. I picked up some bait at Jack's. Unlike the last few times, I made a choice that greatly affected the outcome of today's trip. In addition to clams, I also got a box of bloodworms.

I got to Riverdale around noon. I fished here only once before back in May with no luck. There were a lot of cars in the Metro-North parking lot, but I managed to find a spot. It cost me $3.25 to park for the day. (On weekends, parking is free.)

There were no people on the promenade. With the exception of a few commuters taking the train, the area was practically deserted. I used three poles (more on this later). I believe I started out using clams on two lines, and a blood worm on the third.

The weather was around 60 degrees. It was very overcast and foggy. It previously rained, and the area was still wet. The tide was going out.

Not too long ago, I prayed a novena to St. Peter, the patron saint of fisherman, asking to catch at least one fish before I closed down for the winter. Today and three fishing trips later, my prayer was answered.

Deciding to buy some bloodworms turned out to be the smartest thing I've done in a long time. I caught three fish--each a different species--and all with bloodworms. I did have a couple of bites with clams, but I seemed to have nonstop action with bloodworms.

The first fish I caught was a striped bass. It measured nine inches. I was so elated that I finally caught something this season and after so much personal disappointment. I thanked St. Peter for his intervention, and I threw it back.

The second fish came a short time time later. Judging by its barbels, the "whisker" near the mouth, I thought it was a catfish. But it wasn't. Instead, the fish belonged to the carp family. Although it was a foot long, it didn't weigh much. I threw it back.

My third fish was a perch. It was only seven inches. I also returned him to the river.

I came close to catching two other fish. One was either a carp or a catfish. But my line got tangled with another one of my lines, and it managed to get unhooked. The strength of the current created a problem, causing my lines to overlap. The next time I try this spot, I'll just bring two poles. I lost the second fish when my line snapped.

I ran out of bloodworms and had to rely on clams. The fish then seemed to lose interest. In the last few weeks, I no doubt overestimated the appeal of clams and underestimated the appeal of bloodworms. In recent years, I have shied away from bloodworms since they seemed to attract only perch and crabs, which successfully stripped them from the hook.

My success with bloodworms has tempted me to try them at least once at Five Islands Park in New Rochelle before closing down for the winter. Maybe the fish there would find the bloodworms more appetizing than clams.

Today, I also learned an important lesson: Never fish with only one type of bait.

Today's success (and the joy that came with it) was exactly what I needed. I haven't felt this good in a long time. I hope and pray that I can build on it and mark the beginning of a major turnaround in my professional, personal, and fishing life.

I'll See You on the Dark Side of the Moon

On Monday, July 2, I decided to finally experiment with a little night fishing. I got three fresh bunker and three frozen herring from Jack’s, and I went back to Hudson Park.

I started fishing at 7 PM when the sun was still out. I didn’t check the tide charts, and I got there at low tide. Sections of the marina were practically dry, and you could see the mud.

I had a few bites but no luck at first. I was thinking that the crabs were toying with me again.

It eventually got dark. I wasn’t really worried about safety. The New Rochelle Police Department’s Harbor Unit is stationed right near the parking lot, and the police often make their rounds. There were also other fishermen and the usual park visitors.

Last time I fished here, I noticed a lot of fish jumping out of the water like they were in a frenzy as the sun was going down. I didn’t see that this time. Maybe it was the tide.

I looked for the moon in the night sky, but it wasn’t there. The moon, a full one, finally creeped over the horizon.

I often reeled in my lines to check the bait. Often, the hooks were clean. Other times, the bait was partially eaten. Since I had plenty of bait, I often replaced it on the hooks. (The ice in the bucket preserved the bunker and the herring for hours.)

As the night dragged on, I got frustrated. I asked God to let me catch just one fish.

God answered my prayer. At one point, I decided to check one line. As I was reeling it in, I realized I had hooked something. I didn’t feel like a fish. Maybe it was a crab, an eel, or garbage. When I pulled it out, I saw that I did a catch a fish. It was probably the ugliest one I ever caught. It had these black eyes and large fins that seemed like wings. It took me a few days to learn that I caught a sea robin. I threw him back.

I had more bites but no more luck. One fisherman got lucky and caught a 22-inch striped bass, which he returned to the water.

Around 11:30 PM, I decided to call it a night.

I’ll definitely try night fishing in Hudson Park again soon, but at high tide.

Fisherman's Note: I wrote this perhaps a few days later when my recollections were still fresh. I saved it on my laptop, but I never posted it until now.

Now I Got That Feeling Once Again

In the afternoon (on Sunday), I headed up to Hudson Park. I went to City Island to pick up some bait at Jack's Bait and Tackle. I spent about 20 minutes looking for a parking place. I finally parked illegally and left my car's blinkers on, indicating to any police or traffic enforcement officers that I would return. I got two fresh bunker. They didn't have any herring.

The area in the parking lot where I usually fish was crowded with fishermen. So I went to a different side.

I started fishing around 5 PM. The tide was coming in. It was overcast and pleasant. There was no wind. I invoked St. Peter's intercession to help me catch a big fish.

I didn't have a single bite the first couple of hours. I checked and replaced the bait periodically. I put the bunker in ice water to preserve them.

At one point, I checked one of my poles. I hooked something but it wasn't fish. It turned out to be a black bag. There was a mussel attached to it.

A short time later, I hooked something else. I thought it was more garbage. But it turned out to be a large crab. It had a head as large as my fist. Its span was about a foot wide, give or take a couple of inches. It got tangled up in my line. I held my pole over the guard rail and cut the line to set it free.

For years, crabs have been stripping off my bait and deluding me into thinking I had a bite. Today, I evened the score by catching their king.

If you like to fish alone and in peace, Hudson Park is not the place to go. A number of people showed up by sundown. One of them blasted his car radio. Despite the distraction, they were very nice and quite curious about fishing.

Around 8 PM or so, I got a big bite. I scrambled to my pole. But whatever it was let go or managed to unhook itself.

As it gradually got dark, I noticed a lot of fish jumping in the water. I decided to try an experiment. I retrived one line and removed the sinker. I attached a bobber to keep the bait off the bottom. No fish went for it.

As my day was winding down, I had one last big bite. I reeled it in. I pulled it up into the parking lot. It was a striped bass. I quickly put it in the bucket. "Thank you, Lord!" I said loudly, drawing the amusement of a nearby couple. This one measured 18 inches. The locals were impressed. I removed the hook and threw it back.

I stowed my gear away and went home. I had a great day, to which I am thankful to God and St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen.

My late-in-the-evening success reinforced the idea that, next time, I should try fishing in Hudson Park from 8 PM to 11 PM.

Coming Back to Life

Today, I went fishing for the first time in 2007. The weather, personal issues, work, and a family emergency (that was favorably resolved) delayed the start of my fishing season.

I went up to Hudson Park in New Rochelle. Around 2 PM, I was napping, and I came close to canceling the trip. But I really needed to start fishing. I got a large coffee at the gas station to wake me up.

I picked up two bunker at Hudson Park Bait & Tackle. The gentleman told me they didn't have "fresh" bunker. I forget the exact term he used. I was grateful it wasn't frozen.

I started fishing around 3:15 PM, not too long after low tide. It was sunny and a little windy. A couple of times, the wind blew my fishing rods over.

I had no action the first couple of hours. I attributed it to low tide and the wind. As the tide came in, I start getting a couple of bites. The gentleman at the bait shop told me that "evening fishing" was excellent.

At one point, I prayed to St. Peter, the patron saint of fishermen, to allow me to catch at least one fish. He delivered. Perhaps around 5:30 PM, I finally had a big bite. It nearly pulled my rod in the water. As I was reeling it in, it was clear that it was a big fish. I managed to pull it up into the parking lot. I'm lucky my line didn't snap.

I caught a striped bass. It measured 17 inches. It's the largest one I've caught since 2004, when I caught a 22-inch one out of the Hudson River in Dobbs Ferry. I threw it back.

I had a few more bites, but didn't catch anything else. I left at 8:15 PM.

For me, just catching one relatively big fish always makes a fishing trip a success.

There's No Sensation to Compare With This

Yesterday, I went up to Hudson Park in New Rochelle. I fished there for the first time less than three weeks ago and didn't catch anything.

I bought two fresh bunker and a dozen sandworms from Hudson Park Bait and Tackle. I asked the nice lady there for some advice. She said that fishing worms off the bottom would attract crabs.

I started fishing around High Noon. It was cool and very overcast. The forecast called for rain. The tide was going out. At first, I used only two rods because there were some people fishing near me. I used bunker on one line and a sandworm on the other.

In my first hour, I didn't get any bites. It soon began to rain really hard. I retreated into the car and waited for the downpour to pass. (The same thing happened last time as well.) Eventually it stopped, and I got out. The rain came back a short time later, so I went back into the car.

I seriously thought about cutting the day short and going home. But I decided to stay. It stopped raining, and I could finally fish.

At one point, in frustration and despair, I asked God to let me catch at least one fish.

He answered.

Around 2 PM or so, the fish started biting. The first thing I caught was a striped bass with a piece of bunker. It was about a foot long. I didn't get a chance to measure it. I impressed a couple of kids fishing near me with lures. I threw it back.

I kept losing the worms. I would check the line, and the bait was gone completely. It must have been the crabs just like the lady said. So I switched to bunker. The people next to me eventually left, so I got to use my third rod.

I caught four more fish. They were each about a foot long. I don't know exactly what they were. They were green with a yellow band around their eyes. I didn't get a chance to photograph them. They might have been perch, but they were longer than the ones I've usually caught in the Hudson River and the Potomac.

All five fish put up a fight. When I was reeling them in, I thought they were much larger. At one point, I lost a fish when the hook broke off the line.

I fished in the parking lot. There's about a 10-foot drop to the water. I had to pull all five fish up into the air to get them out of the water. I'm concerned that if I hook something really big, the line could snap.

I used 17-pound test. A few weeks ago, I wondered whether it was too heavy. I guess not.

Around 3:30 or so, I called it a day. I just ran out of bait.

I made a couple of mistakes. I couldn't measure my catch because I left the tape measure in my car. I also should have photographed the four mystery fish. But I was in a rush to get the hooks out of the fish's mouths and get them back into the water quickly.

It was a great afternoon for which I am thankful to God. I'll definitely try Hudson Park more often now that I know there are lots of fish waiting to be caught.

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.

Down This Road We've Been So Many Times

I'm officially on vacation this week. I have lots of free time to go fishing.

On Sunday, I went up to Dobbs Ferry with my new tackle box filled with the new stuff I bought recently. I was hoping to try a few different techniques for the purporse of catching different fish besides the usual catfish.

I got there around 1:30 PM or so, a couple of hours before high tide on the Hudson. It was windy and sunny but tolerable.

I picked up three fresh bunker, three frozen herring, and one dozen bloodworms from Jack's.

I upgraded to 17-pound test.

For one line, I used something (I forget the exact name) I bought at the Sports Authority. It has two bobbers with hooks and a swivel to attach a sinker. The advantage, when using a sinker, is that it keeps the hooks off the bottom and getting snagged. I used bunker, herring, and a bloodworm at different times. I didn't catch anything with this.

A couple of times, I tried a bobber on another line with a bloodworm and some herring, but I couldn't cast it far enough.

Early on, I caught an eel. It was about a foot long. Eels secrete some type of residue that makes them slipperly. The stuff, which I understand is a type of mucous, got on my hands and clothes. When it dries on the skin, it becomes flaky. It was tough to wash off. I threw the eel back.

In the late afternoon, the wind died down, and the water calmed.

Later in the day, I caught another eel. This one was well over two feet and looked exactly like the one I caught in late May.

I didn't catch any fish. I had only a few bites.

Was my line too heavy? Or was it just an unlucky day? A woman fishing a few rocks away from caught a couple of perch.

The only other eventful thing that happened was that I was visited by a beaver. I saw him earlier crawling on some rocks. Later, I caught a glimpse of him in the corner of my eye and was startled out of my chair. He disappeared into a hole in the dock. I then saw him in the lot standing a few feet away from me. He was about a foot long. He disappeared before I got a chance to photograph him.

Around 7:30, some thick, black colds rolled in. The wind returned, and it started to drizzle. Since the tide was going out, I gave up and went home so I could catch the Yankee game.