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Well, we weren't skunked! That's an improvement over last time, for sure.
We got in the water at the crack of noon on Monday, and booted down to Glenora where several boats were in evidence. We couldn't buy a fish, nor could we nail any after dark in Picton. We spoke to some guys who had caught fish on Monday morning WAY east of the ferry. And obviously the charter guys did well on Monday according to the post. But for us, Monday was a big zero. We crashed in the back of the van.
What can I say? I have to admit that I am no longer the Quinte fisherman I used to be! I can tell you unequivocally that perhaps five years ago, nobody did any better than me and my dad after dark. We kicked Bob Izumi's ass every night! A few did as well as us, but we were consistently good. We almost always seemed to catch more fish than the other guys coming in. But the times they are a-changin', and I am not as attuned to this daytime trolling as many others, and I have never been more than about 3km east of the ferry! I need to spend more time on the water, learning and understanding the New Wave Fishery.
On Tuesday we raced out to Thompson's where we jigged among about seven boats - some jigging and some trolling. Here we defied the odds by pulling in four very small walleyes. They are currently sitting on my dinner plate as I type this. My kitchen bitch, Garry, is a great cook. Every bachelor needs a guy like him who cooks. Some bachelors need wives, but I am not counted among them.
We pulled these four little guys right off the bottom on too-small minnows from Moon's bait in Deseronto. We need to bring some bigger guys from the bait shop in Hamilton. Note that buddy in Consecon only had piddly-assed minnows, too. My dad had luck on one of those whisper jigs with the little propellor spinners. I only saw one other boat pull in an 'eye. There were plenty of suspended fish swimming round under our boat, and I could use my sonar to drop the jig right on their heads, but they wouldn't bite! The only hits we got were right on the bottom. They were there all right, but just not hittin'.
We booted out to the ferry for a couple hours, but nothing doing. As it became dark, we boogied back to the Merland's - Pumphouse run, and son of a gun if I didn't have a hit that just about tore the rod out of my hands! I use Fireline at night, and MAN - did that suckah hit! On the Clown, of course. "Grab the net!" I cried. "This guy is huge! He's stripping line!" "We forgot the net, remember?!"
Oh.
Anyway, when he got him up to the side of the boat, we were disappointed but not surprised to see he wasn't all that big. I handed the rod to my dad, then reached in and grabbed him. He pulled the scale down to nine pounds.
And that was it. But it was nine pounds and four piddlers better than last time, eh? I'm off to Kentucky caving over the Merrican Thanksgiving, but I'll be back when the water cools down some, and the REAL fishing starts. Believe me, the best is yet to come. Don't put yer boats away yet!
Cheers,
Pete
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Self-unemployed and available for fishin' mid-week most days.
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