Getting reacquainted with old haunts for new success.
Big bass and pickerel, salmon and trout, inhabit many small lakes throughout the region, from New Jersey to upstate New York, out into the New England states; lakes with steep-sloping drop-offs, clear water, and lots of aquatic vegetation.
The really big lakes and reservoirs are worth getting familiar with, also, but two small ones of about a hundred acres apiece interest me most. With so much in common, it amazes me they could be so different when it came to my confidence. It took me awhile to become familiar with the second of them. Both lakes have milfoil and pads. Both have shoreline edges that drop almost straight down to the weedline’s bottom edge about 20 feet deep. The water is super clear. Blowdowns and overhangs dot the shorelines. Weedy shallow flats exist. Landlocked salmon get stocked here as well.
But it’s really not only those two. There’s a smaller lake I can compare, and some others, beside. But about the smaller, it, too, has sharp drop-offs, milfoil and pads, brush and blowdowns, clear water, pickerel and bass. I guess it’s about 45 acres. And yet, the first time Brian Cronk and I fished the lake, I had my doubts many fish exist in it. I really became acquainted on our second try, and I had that opportunity only because Cronk felt good about the lake in spite of everything. He’s the one who wanted to return.
The familiar lake I began fishing more than a decade ago. I made a good catch on my first try fishing from a boat. I had caught some bass and pickerel from shore going back even further, but it wasn’t until I could fish the deep edges better that I began to come to terms with virtually every spot the lake offers, gaining a mastery I can reenact on almost any visit.
The lake became even more familiar as old spots fell out of favor: distant, dead, alienated from the joy of their former glory. Spots where I repeatedly caught bass 10 years ago and usually don’t revisit now. It doesn’t matter, because other spots have cropped up. It’s also true that 8 years ago, my son and I caught three smallmouth bass as large as almost 19 inches on a particular outing. Neither of us, nor any of my guests, have caught any smallmouths there since. It’s left a longing that’s worth the pain, because it’s likely smallmouth reproduce in the lake and remain available.
The other lake I’ve compared has a minor population of smallmouth, too. In general, the two lakes have the same characteristics but the second one offered my son and I a tough bite the first time we fished it, though we did catch a couple of nice largemouth and a pickerel. I returned with Jorge Hildago four years later in June, and we got skunked on an overcast afternoon and evening. Not a hit, not even on topwaters after sunset. You can imagine my reluctance when I returned to fish from my squareback with Brenden Kuprel two years later, though we caught fish, just not many nor very good sized. I still didn’t feel confident in the lake when we finished fishing that day.
It matters little that you can make a general comparison to another lake, because until you become familiar with the lake as a place that will produce, it will feel questionable. Such lack of confidence affects the effectiveness of your fishing. The lake proves to be a challenge you must overcome.
I was back on that lake in my squareback two years later with Oliver Round. The outing made all the difference. Oliver had caught a couple of trout trolling a Phoebe, but then we positioned along a shoreline with hundreds of yards of possible opportunity ahead as we worked our way into the back of the lake. It felt to me as if nothing would yield.
I fished a Yum Dinger, because weeds hadn’t fully grown in yet, so I had wiggle room without an inset hook. Soon, I caught an 18-inch largemouth. And all the way to the back, Oliver and I repeatedly caught nice ones. It permanently changed my attitude there. I now understand success on that lake is open to my efforts, but until I had actually done it, I couldn’t feel certain.
