Post by standard on Jul 23, 2008 16:19:40 GMT -5
I just got home last night after two weeks in middle and east Tennessee filled with family, friends (both old and new), and so much fun and enjoyment that I'd have to call this the best vacation I've ever had. I flew in and out of Nashville, so I spent some time at both ends of the trip with Mike Henry, a long-time fishing buddy I first met in Athens, GA who has made Nashville his home for the last 13 years or so.
Mike and I try to "keep each other honest." What I mean by this is that, since we each left Athens I've pretty much stuck with the long rod and rarely dabble with spinning and bait cast gear. Mike on the other hand, has pretty much gone the other way. He owns a few fly rods, but for one reason or another finds it more convenient to fish with the "new" stuff. The bottom line is that nowadays I feel less than comfortable and confident with spin and bait cast tackle, and Mike feels the same way about fly-fishing. Still, I was truly looking forward to fishing with Mike again.
Leaving myself in his capable hands, he suggested that we do some simple bank and wade fishing on a couple of creek arm of Old Hickory. He calls these outings a "quick and dirty Forrest Gump," 'cause you never know what you're gonna get.
Largemouth, bluegill and pumpkinseeds, rock bass, the odd freshwater drum were regular, expected fare. At certain times of year, he told me you might see something else.
He got more than a a little animated when he mentioned skipjack herring. "Skipjack herring?
," I asked. "Oh yeah," said Mike. "You don't know how much fun they are." I told him I thought they were a mostly salt-water bait fish. After I asked how and why they got in the local water, I decided to ask just exactly how light the tackle would be to fish for the little guys. "Oh," he said, "you should be here in the fall when they move in the creek arms to fatten up for winter. They can get to be way over 20" and weigh over four pounds. Big schools of them. The action can get intense. On a four pound test ultra-light rig they'll give you a terrific fight. You should see 'em when they feel the hook. They go berserk and act like baby tarpon. But we probably won't see any this time of year." I thought, "Wow, I could get into that. That is, if he's not pulling my leg."
We decided to do a night trip after seeing the pressure the place gets on the weekend. Fishing the coolest part of the day sounded pretty good to me, too. So, on the appointed day we took care of some chores, got the tackle ready to go, ate some good food, and went to sleep about 7 p.m. We got up about 1:30, loaded up the car, and off we went.
We started at the Drake's Creek arm of Old Hickory. One boated trailer and truck with someone sleeping 'till daybreak, another rig with the trailer empty. Looks good. We fished it with everything from top-water plugs to plastic worms until about 4:30. A few fish, but it was pretty slow. Mike said, "Hmmm, let's pack it up and head over to Rockland Park. We can be there in about 10 minutes pretty easy, and I think we might do better to catch sunrise over there." I told him, "you're the boss," and off we went.
The launch ramp and docks weren't being used much at all, so we proceeded to continue fishing from the docks there at the park. But this time, acting on no evidence but with lots of hope, I rigged up a fly rod, "just in case." There were numerous but sporadic, independent rises all over the place and it looked like the move was a pretty good idea.
About 5:30 or so, I began to see periodically rising small schools of some kind of fish decent sized fish. I didn't know what they were, just that they weren't bass or bream. Then I saw a crescent-shaped tail and asked Mike if those might be what I thought they were. Mike said, "Oh yeah, cast that inline spinner in front of them a little and reel like hell." I did and I saw the first fish swipe at it and miss. Three or four others immediately went after it like the last bratwurst at a church picnic. The winner hit the spinner, hooked himself, and just exploded. Greyhounding, tailwalking, high jumps with head-shaking ensued. The skippjack was about 16", same as all the others in the school, and managed to throw the hook like his life depended on it. Which I guess he thought it did. "They've got funny mouths," Mike said. "Hard most places on the top and bottom and paper-thin near the corners. You'll loose a good many of 'em."
That was enough for me. As the school sounded, I reeled the spinner in, put the rod down, and grabbed my 6 wt. that I'd rigged with a small, light colored streamer. I stripped out a bunch of line and waited for the school to come up again while Mike tried his luck letting his spinner sink a good bit before the retrieve. There they are," I said. "they move around a lot faster than I thought."
I worked out line till I thought I could reach them and laid the #6 streamer about six feet in front of and a bit beyond them, let it sink while I stuck the rod between my legs and prepared to strip. Quick, long, hand over hand strips worked. Seeing the strike, I raised the rod tip as quick as a I could. Another explosion. And another as Mike hooked up too. Incredible excitement mixed with the more than occasional Keystone Cops moments as we both played our fish. I thought, "well, the last one threw the hook on a jump just like a tarpon. I wonder if I should bow to these guys just like a tarpon when they jump?" I tried to do that, but the action was often too fast to keep up with them. We lost at least as many as we landed, but we landed a lot. I even got a largemouth on one cast and after landing it committed a small act of blasphemy by muttering something like, "gotta hurry up and unhook this trash fish before they sound again." I asked Mike about that bass and he seemed to think that the bass sometimes hang beneath the school of skippies to grab a crumb or two that the herring miss or overlook. He also said he's heard of channel cats doing the same thing.
We alternated between first casts when they came up topside in range of our casts for the next hour and a half or so, until the sun was full on the water. Sometimes the school would break up into two or three smaller pods and cover different parts of the creek arm. It was the most incredible time I've had in a very long time, maybe ever. All that was lacking was a flats boat, a few cattle egret, a good bit of mangrove, and a much thinner wallet and I'd have thought I was in the Keys.
By the time the school moved on, we were almost soaked with sweat. The morning air was pregnant with water vapor, and it was getting hot. Time to go back to Mike's to shower and change and make up for the sleep we didn't get the night before. I don't know if any of you guys out there ever fish for these things, but I'll do it every time I get the chance. It's about the most fun you can have standing up.
Thom
Mike and I try to "keep each other honest." What I mean by this is that, since we each left Athens I've pretty much stuck with the long rod and rarely dabble with spinning and bait cast gear. Mike on the other hand, has pretty much gone the other way. He owns a few fly rods, but for one reason or another finds it more convenient to fish with the "new" stuff. The bottom line is that nowadays I feel less than comfortable and confident with spin and bait cast tackle, and Mike feels the same way about fly-fishing. Still, I was truly looking forward to fishing with Mike again.
Leaving myself in his capable hands, he suggested that we do some simple bank and wade fishing on a couple of creek arm of Old Hickory. He calls these outings a "quick and dirty Forrest Gump," 'cause you never know what you're gonna get.
Largemouth, bluegill and pumpkinseeds, rock bass, the odd freshwater drum were regular, expected fare. At certain times of year, he told me you might see something else. He got more than a a little animated when he mentioned skipjack herring. "Skipjack herring?
," I asked. "Oh yeah," said Mike. "You don't know how much fun they are." I told him I thought they were a mostly salt-water bait fish. After I asked how and why they got in the local water, I decided to ask just exactly how light the tackle would be to fish for the little guys. "Oh," he said, "you should be here in the fall when they move in the creek arms to fatten up for winter. They can get to be way over 20" and weigh over four pounds. Big schools of them. The action can get intense. On a four pound test ultra-light rig they'll give you a terrific fight. You should see 'em when they feel the hook. They go berserk and act like baby tarpon. But we probably won't see any this time of year." I thought, "Wow, I could get into that. That is, if he's not pulling my leg."We decided to do a night trip after seeing the pressure the place gets on the weekend. Fishing the coolest part of the day sounded pretty good to me, too. So, on the appointed day we took care of some chores, got the tackle ready to go, ate some good food, and went to sleep about 7 p.m. We got up about 1:30, loaded up the car, and off we went.
We started at the Drake's Creek arm of Old Hickory. One boated trailer and truck with someone sleeping 'till daybreak, another rig with the trailer empty. Looks good. We fished it with everything from top-water plugs to plastic worms until about 4:30. A few fish, but it was pretty slow. Mike said, "Hmmm, let's pack it up and head over to Rockland Park. We can be there in about 10 minutes pretty easy, and I think we might do better to catch sunrise over there." I told him, "you're the boss," and off we went.
The launch ramp and docks weren't being used much at all, so we proceeded to continue fishing from the docks there at the park. But this time, acting on no evidence but with lots of hope, I rigged up a fly rod, "just in case." There were numerous but sporadic, independent rises all over the place and it looked like the move was a pretty good idea.
About 5:30 or so, I began to see periodically rising small schools of some kind of fish decent sized fish. I didn't know what they were, just that they weren't bass or bream. Then I saw a crescent-shaped tail and asked Mike if those might be what I thought they were. Mike said, "Oh yeah, cast that inline spinner in front of them a little and reel like hell." I did and I saw the first fish swipe at it and miss. Three or four others immediately went after it like the last bratwurst at a church picnic. The winner hit the spinner, hooked himself, and just exploded. Greyhounding, tailwalking, high jumps with head-shaking ensued. The skippjack was about 16", same as all the others in the school, and managed to throw the hook like his life depended on it. Which I guess he thought it did. "They've got funny mouths," Mike said. "Hard most places on the top and bottom and paper-thin near the corners. You'll loose a good many of 'em."
That was enough for me. As the school sounded, I reeled the spinner in, put the rod down, and grabbed my 6 wt. that I'd rigged with a small, light colored streamer. I stripped out a bunch of line and waited for the school to come up again while Mike tried his luck letting his spinner sink a good bit before the retrieve. There they are," I said. "they move around a lot faster than I thought."
I worked out line till I thought I could reach them and laid the #6 streamer about six feet in front of and a bit beyond them, let it sink while I stuck the rod between my legs and prepared to strip. Quick, long, hand over hand strips worked. Seeing the strike, I raised the rod tip as quick as a I could. Another explosion. And another as Mike hooked up too. Incredible excitement mixed with the more than occasional Keystone Cops moments as we both played our fish. I thought, "well, the last one threw the hook on a jump just like a tarpon. I wonder if I should bow to these guys just like a tarpon when they jump?" I tried to do that, but the action was often too fast to keep up with them. We lost at least as many as we landed, but we landed a lot. I even got a largemouth on one cast and after landing it committed a small act of blasphemy by muttering something like, "gotta hurry up and unhook this trash fish before they sound again." I asked Mike about that bass and he seemed to think that the bass sometimes hang beneath the school of skippies to grab a crumb or two that the herring miss or overlook. He also said he's heard of channel cats doing the same thing.
We alternated between first casts when they came up topside in range of our casts for the next hour and a half or so, until the sun was full on the water. Sometimes the school would break up into two or three smaller pods and cover different parts of the creek arm. It was the most incredible time I've had in a very long time, maybe ever. All that was lacking was a flats boat, a few cattle egret, a good bit of mangrove, and a much thinner wallet and I'd have thought I was in the Keys.
By the time the school moved on, we were almost soaked with sweat. The morning air was pregnant with water vapor, and it was getting hot. Time to go back to Mike's to shower and change and make up for the sleep we didn't get the night before. I don't know if any of you guys out there ever fish for these things, but I'll do it every time I get the chance. It's about the most fun you can have standing up.
Thom
