The Dog Days are Doggone Over

I’d like to apologize for the lengthy wait, but it’s really not my fault so I’m not going to – I’m an expert at denial. Fishing in late July and August drives even the sanest of fisherman crazy. It’s 90 degrees, the sun is blazing, and all of the fish are dead asleep dreaming of cooler weather. Despite the brutal conditions, I have a quick recap of the summer and some clear evidence it’s going to be a good Fall for fishing.

I believe I last left my loyal and robust readership with a proclamation I was targeting only the biggest and baddest of bass. Well, I literally didn’t catch a single bass over the size of your typical minnow, which is a borderline inconceivable display of ineptitude. However, I was able to catch a small rainbow trout at my beloved Pearl:

Speaking of trout, I’d be remiss not to mention the adventure of a certain bass-tard — Tommy. Earlier this summer Tommy had resurfaced and demanded I teach him how to fish, so we went to a spot I had visited in the winter to see if we could catch anything. On the way to the spot, we passed by this little brook:

Seeing the bend in the brook with a small eddy forming, I simply gestured towards the spot and said, “Bet there’s a brookie in there.” And by brookie, I mean a brook trout – a very nice looking fish that’s difficult to find. Even if they are stocked, they are so quickly eaten by real fish (i.e., bass) you’ll have a tough time catching one. It had been a goal of mine to catch a brook trout for a long time, I believe I wrote about it in my first few blogs.

I don’t suggest you go read them, whatever you may think about the quality of this current blog, I can guarantee you it is substantially better than those first few blogs… “Buzz, your first blog, WOOF.” I’m hoping someone understands that reference.

Naturally, Tommy boxed me out and sprinted towards the brook to make the first cast, like the covetous and sniveling fisherman (just overall person) he is. While I wasn’t surprised by the behavior, I was surprised about the result… a mother-bleeping brook trout:

Great! Awesome! I loved watching my good friend accomplish the very dream of mine that inspired this blog! At no point did I consider drowning Tommy in the 4 inch deep brook behind him. You couldn’t possibly accuse me of being jealous, I was smiling ear to ear:

So yeah, between that and not catching a single fish worth a damn for nearly two months afterwards it was a great summer fishing-wise. As the dog days have been winding down I’ve traveled back to New York and have been enjoying the (finally) last few days of cooler weather. The last time I fished in NY I lost the strongest fish I’ve ever felt at this spot, called Murphy’s Island:

I figured I might as well revisit the spot and see if I couldn’t re-hook the monster I had lost – with zero pressure and absolutely no blood vendetta in my mind, just a nice fishing trip to see what happens. But first, I knew I needed to catch some baitfish, so I hit up the local creek to catch some blue gill:

The next day I rolled up to Murphy’s Island to see what I could catch. After tossing out bait for an hour and getting nothing but little bites, I moved off my spot and set up further down the bank …

Almost immediately, in all post-haste, and with great alacrity my rod was almost ripped into the river! After quite literally the toughest fight I’ve ever had, I pulled in this thicccccc boi of a channel catfish:

This was my second cat fish ever and it was easily the stronger and heavier of the two (though it was definitely shorter, which makes me think the first one was sick or something… which makes me think I probably shouldn’t have eaten it). I was pretty stoked, it had been a long time since I had hooked into a big fish and I thoroughly enjoyed the battle. And despite me definitely not having a plan to execute vengeance from my previous failures, I did have a pretty nice plan lined up…..

Fried cat fish banh mi!

If you don’t know, banh mi is a Vietnamese sandwich based off of pickled dikon (some sort of radish) and carrot, nice bread, and typically pork. I figured I’d substitute the pork with some pan fried catfish and replace the sauce with homemade tartar. I’ve had fried catfish before, it’s absolutely delicious and anybody that tells you it tastes muddy is an idiot. I also decided to make some homemade french fries, final product:

Pretty damn tasty, I had the other fillet as straight fish and chips and it was fantastic. I’m highlighting this to drive a point home – as bad as August fishing is, Fall fishing in these big boy rivers has so much promise. I have a few goals I’m gonna keep close to the chest for now, but it’s officially go time. As the weather gets colder, so does my blood my apartment, which allows for better sleep, which allows for more energy to spend on catching monster fish. But all I can really do is…

Cast and Pray,

Jon (bonus pic of me drunkenly corralling Bubz in for a picture)