June 7, 2014 - Lake Pelham & Cesspool

Put in at Lake Pelham ramp off of Virginia Ave at 2:30.  A fellow was taking his jon boat out when I put in, and remarked he hadn't done any good.  He apparently normally fishes in Lake Orange, which he said is great.

Anyhow, I put in and paddled over to the point opposite the ramp and made my way upstream from there, since there was  a guy in a boat fishing along the dam.  Being near midday, there wasn't much shade.  I caught a bluegill right off on a small inline spinner, throwing it up under overhanging trees.

I believe that this is the largest bluegill I've caught out of Pelham, so I considered that an accomplishment.

After the fellow in the boat had made more progress, I crossed back over and fished up the east bank, which is fairly steep and drops off quickly.

I fished it with the spinner and then switched to a texas rigged white lizard, which didn't work.  I switched to a drop shot rig with a 5" worm about a foot above the weight, which didn't do any good either.  I went back to spinning tackle with a yellow curly tail, and caught a small bluegill off of some beds, although I don't know if he was sitting on the beds or it was coincidence.

I made my way along, fishing the blowdowns, not catching anything, other than a white perch.

So it was with sunburned legs and a heavy heart that I headed back around 6.  I took out and put my junk into my car, and ran into S_____, who I had spoken with on a couple of other occasions.  Two or three weeks ago, she got a fantastic picture of a couple of snakes on a limb by the beaver dam at the other put in, virtually the same place I got this picture, and we assumed maybe the same two snakes. Her picture was far better.

As we were talking, a heron flew over the dam in the direction of Yowell Meadow.  Foreshadowing!

As I drove back, contemplating all the wrong paths I've taken in my life to date to put me in this sorry state, feeling morose, dejected, and despondent, I passed by Yowell Meadow Park, and was drawn to it by some cosmic force.

I walked around the Cesspool there, throwing a big 1/2 or 3/8 oz spinnerbait.  I ran into a fellow fisherman of avian persuasion, and it seemed that he was having about the same luck as I was.

I was making my way back, and there was suddenly tension on the line.  Pessimism dictated that I must be hung up, but nuts to that!  I'd tied into a nice bass.  I landed him, he was 15 inches, or maybe a little longer.

It did occur to me, had I been putting in at Pelham at 6 and fishing through the evening, casting a big spinnerbait, would I have done as well there? 


In any case, the balance having tipped towards luck instead of misfortune, I left, eagerly anticipating what adventure tomorrow might bring.