Category Archives: Fishing Ramblings – My Fishing Blog

Random thoughts and musings about fishing

Losing Rods and Sunglasses

I caught this bass at Lake Seminole on one of my St.. Croix rods

My luck with one pair of sunglasses is really good or really bad. The Monday after the snowstorm I was sitting on my dock fishing. When I caught a small bluegill it fell off and landed on the dock and I reached down to pick it up. My sunglasses fell off my face, hit the dock and bounced into the water. This was the same pair of prescription bifocal sunglasses I lost a few weeks ago and found in the edge of the pond.

The water was cold and about six feet deep so I didn’t try to get them back. On Tuesday I started a siphon to pull the water down. I use a four inch pipe and it drops the water about an inch an hour at first, dropping faster as the size of the pond decreases.

By Friday morning the water had dropped about seven feet and I could see the ears of the glasses sticking straight up. When I picked them up there was about an inch of mud on the lens but there was no damage. I washed them off and they are fine.

The pond will take several weeks to fill back up since the stream coming in is much smaller than the amount of water the four inch pipe could pull out. I don’t think it will bother the fish since the water is still cool and can hold more oxygen.

I wonder what will happen next with those sunglasses!

I learned another expensive lesson after the Bartlett’s Ferry tournament three weeks ago. In that tournament I hung my bait on a shallow brush pile and while trying to get it loose I reeled down and pulled – and pulled the tip off the rod. No problem, Berry’s will replace rod tips.

I decided I wanted to keep using that reel and the line on it so I took it off, slipped the tipless rod under the strap that holds them down and put the reel on another rod. I caught several bass on that outfit.

When I got home that afternoon I went to the boat to get the rod so I could take it to town the next day. It was gone. I guess it worked out from under the strap since there was no reel to hold it down and then blew out of the boat on the way home.

It was one of my favorite rods, a St. Croix that lists for $170. That is an expensive lesson to learn. Make sure your rods are secure before transporting them!

Cooking Roots

Talk about cooking roots and most southerners think turnips, potatoes and carrots. But it makes me think of other roots, going back to learning to cook from my mother and the cooking traditions passed on from parents to children generation after generation.

My mother was a fantastic cook and baked cakes for sale for many years. Since we had chickens and cows milk and eggs were easy to get. She taught me a lot about baking and always rewarded me with beaters and bowls to lick. There was no worry about eating raw eggs in those days.

I learned the basics from seasoning all vegetables with fatback and cooking them forever to pouring the salt in all kinds of sauces. Mamma could take a package of cheap hotdogs, add chopped onion, bell pepper and BBQ sauce and make a dinner as good as anything I ever ate. Another of my favorites was egg casserole, made by layering stale crumbled up biscuits and bread with sliced boiled eggs and covering it all with milk and baking it. The real butter dotted on each layer helped! We never wasted anything. Leftovers were eaten as is or mixed with other ingredients to make a completely new meal.

I leaned to fry fish from my dad. He loved to fry up a big mess of crappie, bass and bream for family and friends. He and a family friend made fish cookers with wheel hubs, pipe and rebar. I used mine for many years and it seemed to do a better job than any of the commercial cookers I have tried. Dad knew exactly when to take the fish out so they were golden brown but still moist and delicious.

One thing I never got right were the hushpuppies. Mamma mixed them up and dad dropped them one at a time into the hot grease, using two spoons and dipping one in water between each hushpuppy. I can cook them but have never been able to get the ingredients exactly right.

I asked my mom to write down the recipes for me and she tried, but many have instructions like “add some pepper till it tastes right.” I can usually make a good stab at things she wrote for me but, unfortunately, soon after she started recording them for me on index cards she developed Alzheimer’s and many of my favorites were never recorded.

I also learned from aunts and uncles. My uncle Adron could kill game like the best of the pioneers and his wife Nancy could cook anything. I often thought if he brought in an old boot she would make a great meal out of it. I especially loved their catfish stew. They both worked grinding the catfish and adding the ingredients until just right, then Uncle Adron would cook it in a big pot outside over an open fire.

I am afraid a lot of the southern cooking traditions are being lost. It seems we don’t have time to cook a meal and kids would rather be playing video games than learning cooking roots. And fast food has replaced so much of our cooking that little will ever be the same. Some of it is good but nothing will ever taste as good as something you picked or killed, cleaned and cooked yourself.

Don’t let your cooking roots die. Learn them now before it is too late.

Have You Ever Lost Anything Outdoors?

I am wearing the sunglasses I lost!

Have you ever lost anything outdoors? It happens to all of us and I seem to lose a lot of things from glasses to rods and reels. Fortunately, I have never gotten myself very lost and have always been able to find my way back home, but sometimes I make it back without everything I had when I left.

A few weeks ago I decided to pull the two black plastic pipes I use for siphons from my upper pond to the lower pond. Once I got the 75 foot pipes moving it wasn’t too bad, but a limb brushed my head and knocked off my cap and prescription sun glasses. I picked them up and put them in my shirt pocket.

A little later I tripped and they fell out. I picked them up again, got the pipes to the lower pond and got one working. I had to put a concrete block in the edge of the water and run the pipe through it to fill it with water. The purpose of all this exercise was to drop the water level a little to try to find the holes the otters are living in. From the scat piles it looks like an otter has eaten every bass in that pond, but that is a different story.

A few days later I could not find my sunglasses and figured I dropped them in the woods. I walked back over the path I drug the pipes but found nothing. I even moved the concrete block in the edge of the pond since I had bent over it a good bit but still nothing.

Two days later it was bright and sunny and I looked again, thinking the glasses might shine in the sun. I walked over the trail but nothing. When I got to the block in the water I looked and saw a little glint of light. Sure enough, the glasses were there, buried in the muck in about a foot of water. I was real lucky to get them.

Another experience with sunglasses did not turn out as good. I was fishing by myself at Lake Martin and stopped to fish a spot up the river in about 15 feet of water. I bent down and picked up a rod and reel and when I did the handle of another rod caught on the line and flipped out of the boat. I grabbed for it and was suddenly under the water.

The first thing I did when I came up was look around and see if anyone was laughing at me. Then I started hoping they were, I could not get back in the boat and needed help. I got a little scared but finally got to the motor and used it to climb back in the boat. Lying on the back deck, panting and recovering, I realized if I had just thrown out a marker I could have snagged my rod.

About the same time I remembered the prescription bifocal sunglasses I had been wearing. Had being the operative word. So that day I left a $300 pair of sunglasses and a $200 rod and reel on the bottom of the lake and I guess they are still there.

I used to keep my cell phone on a clip on my belt but now keep it in a pocket. A couple of years ago I was using my backhoe to fill in some rough patches on the road going down to my pond. After moving several scoops of dirt I parked the tractor then realized I did not have my phone. A search of the truck did not turn it up.

I got a phone from the barn and called the number, hoping to hear it ring. I walked over the area where I had been working but found and heard nothing. At that point I got a hoe and started scratching dirt. After about five pulls of the hoe I turned it up. It still worked so I guess I did not run over it, but as long as I had it there was a slash on the cover where I hit it with the hoe.

Another time a tractor almost cost me my sunglasses. I was cutting grass beside the pond and a bug flew in my face. When I hit at it I knocked off my sunglasses. I stopped the tractor immediately and searched all over and under it without finding anything. I knew they had to be there but could not find them. I decided to move the tractor back so I could look better. As soon as I moved it I found them – they had been under the left rear tire. Amazingly, they were not broken.

I guess things are not really lost until you don’t find them. Be more careful than I am so you won’t have those kinds of problems!

Fishing and Fun on The Augusta Canal

“Low bridge, everybody down, Low bridge, we’re a com-in to a town. You will always know your neighbor, you will always know your pal, if you have ever navigated on the” Augusta Canal???? In Dearing, Georgia while in grade school we used to sing the “Erie Canal” song written by Thomas Allen in 1905, but I had no idea the August Canal was only 30 miles away. It, too, is steeped in history.

As I got a little older I heard about the Augusta Canal and the fact that people caught fish in it got my attention. We would cross sections of it going into downtown Augusta but it still meant little to me. The bigger waters of nearby Clark’s Hill always attracted me more.

I knew there was a lock and dam near Augusta that allowed boats to come into the city and I assumed the canal was part of that system. But it is not. The lock and dam is downstream of Augusta and the dam for the canal is upstream. It raises the level of the Savannah River and forces the water into a canal that runs into downtown Augusta.

Constructed in 1845 and enlarged in 1875, the 8.5 mile canal is not for moving barges. It provides power for mills. Each mill along its length has a water intake and the falling water turns turbines that power machinery in the mill. The first mills build to take advantage of the canal were saw mills and grist mills, then textile mills for spinning thread from cotton and weaving it into cloth were built.

During the Civil War the canal and location of Augusta made the Confederacy build its powder works there. The Confederate State of America Powderworks complex made almost all the gunpowder used by the south in the war. The powder works buildings were the only buildings ever constructed by the CSA government and its 28 buildings stretched for two miles along the canal. It was torn down after the war and the only remaining sign of it is the tall chimney that sits just off the canal.

Augusta was not destroyed in the civil war as were so many towns and cities in Georgia by Sherman’s March to the Sea. After the war the city went through a boom, and the Enterprise, King and Sibley textile mills, the Lombard Ironworks and many others were built along the canal.

By 1892 Augusta was using the canal to turn electric generators and was the first southern city to have streetlights and street cars powered by water from the canal. For years Augusta boomed due to the canal but by the mid 1950s it had gone downhill. By the 1960s city officials considered closing the canal, draining it and making it into a highway.

The canal was preserved and is now a natural oasis within the city. People walk and ride bikes on the old towpaths along its banks. You can see many kinds of birds and even alligators there, and the fishing is good. Boats are limited to electric power only and many canoes and kayaks travel its waters.

The Enterprise Mill was restored and turned into an office and residential complex. It now houses the Augusta Canal National Heritage Interpretive Center. It houses exhibits and artifacts depicting canal construction and mill life. You can also catch a “Petersburg Boat” for a ride on the canal at the mill.

Petersburg was a city upstream of Augusta at the junction of the Savannah and Broad Rivers. Between 1800 and 1810 it was the third largest Georgia city, after Savannah and Augusta. Its location made it a trade center, especially for tobacco farmers. The remains of the old city now lie under the waters of Clark’s Hill Lake.

Petersburg boats are long, narrow boats built to use the canal. The ones available for tours are now electric powdered but they once were pulled by mules trudging along the towpaths along the canal. You get a good view of the canal, bridges and buildings along it as well as sighting some wildlife. The tour guides give a history of the canal and point out interesting sights. You are not allowed to fish from the boats!

There is a beautiful park at the headwaters of the canal at the dam and you can enjoy even catch smallmouth bass in the shoals near there. The gatekeeper’s house has been turned into a visitor’s center where you can get information about the area.

I can’t believe I grew up 30 miles from this historic area and never visited. Don’t make my mistake, plan a visit.

Have You Ever Got A Hook Stuck In You While Fishing?

Fact of life – if you fish much you will get hooks stuck in you. From little pin-pricks on fingertips to hooks buried in ears, arms and even bellies, hooks end up in all the wrong places. It will happen.

One experience was funny, to everyone except my Uncle Mayhue. Three of us were fishing from a 12 foot jon boat at Usury’s Pond in McDuffie County. That is a prescription for disaster, especially if one of the fishermen is only eight years old. Uncle Adron was in the middle of the boat and I was in the back. Uncle Mayhue was in the front sculling the boat along while all three of us cast plastic worms with three hooks in them.

I have no doubt both uncles were watching me and trying to make sure I didn’t do anything to cause a problem, but Uncle Adron should have been looking forward more. On one cast he somehow hooked Uncle Mayhue in the ear with his plastic worm – with all three hooks.

I tried not to laugh but it was funny. The red Crème worm outlined the ear while a few drops of blood trickled out. Not one to let such a small thing stop him from fishing, Uncle Mayhue just kept on casting, saying he would get it out later. Uncle Adron had to cut his line and rig up another bait.

When I was about 15 years old I was fishing at Clark’s Hill by myself in our big ski boat. It was a hot day and I had my shirt off. I cast a Little Cleo spoon toward the bank and got hung in a bush. When I snatched it to pull it out of the bush my plan worked too well. I suddenly felt a sting on my stomach, looked down and saw one of the hooks on the treble was out of sight with the other two pressed tight against my stomach.

I did not have a protective coating over my stomach back then like I do now, and I knew from my little memory of biology that there were some pretty important things not too far under the skin in that area. I cut the line off and drove the boat back to the dock.

My mom was fishing under the dock and when I tied the boat up and pointed to the spoon I almost passed out. It did not hit me till then. She took me to the emergency room and they cut the hook out and it took only two stitches to close the cut up. The doctor told me I was not really in any danger, the layer of muscle – back then, anyway – was much thicker than the hook was long.

That and other experiences taught me to get the hooks out of myself. One beautiful fall day while fishing at Lake Martin I was casting a big DBIII crankbait to shallow cover. When the lure bumped a log I thought I got a strike and set the hook. The plug came flying through the air and ended up hanging from my upper arm, just below my shirt sleeve.

It didn’t really hurt, just felt like someone had punched me in the arm. I told my partner to grab the visible hooks with a pair of pliers and jerk the hook out. I warned him to do it fast, to please not pull slowly because that hurt a lot more.

He took the pliers, looked at the plug and all the color drained from his face. He couldn’t do it. So I did. I took the pliers, jerked the lure loose and went back to casting it. It never bled or hurt. I have found that often works best. Just jerk the hook out quickly and get back to fishing.

If you are fishing saltwater on the Gulf of Mexico you had better be careful of any injury like that, though. Especially this time of year there is a bacterium that lives in the water that can be deadly. It is more common late in the summer and will enter your body through any hole like those made by hooks, fish fins and knife cuts. It can even get in through a scrape.

A few years ago a friend of mine, Kevin Dallmier, who was a fisheries biologist from north Georgia, got one of these infections. The bacterium, Vibrio vulnificus, can lead to amputations and even death. Kevin was in the hospital for several weeks recovering from his infection.

You are more likely to get an infection if your immune system is weak. But be careful anyway. There are about 40 confirmed cases each year on the US Gulf Coast, not many unless you happen to be one of them. A high percentage of confirmed cases, 35, require hospitalization and almost one third, or 12 per year, result in death.

Be careful when fishing. And if you get an injury from a hook or anything else, get medical attention if you start running a fever. Don’t wait to hope it will go away.

What Can I Do If I Get A Spider In My Ear While Fishing?

Catching bullheads and cats at night can be dangerous!

Watching a hospital show on TV last week brought back bad memories for me. On this show a guy came into the emergency room complaining about something in his ear. When the nurse looked into his ear with a flashlight he was horrified. One of his nightmares, a spider, was in the guy’s ear.

When running bank hooks at night at Clark’s Hill we usually checked them a couple of times after dark. Willow trees overhanging the water were good places to tie hooks but presented some problems. Lots of critters liked to hang out in those trees.

One night Linda was holding the flashlight while I baited a hook. When I stood up my head brushed one of the higher branches and I felt something on my ear. I brushed at it and told Linda to shine the light to see what was there.

Big mistake. It was a spider. Spiders don’t like light, so it went into the nearest dark hole it could find – my ear! I could feel it scrabbling around down in there on my eardrum, as far in as it would go.

Somehow I managed to get back to the trailer at the boat club and went inside. Mom and dad and Linda all tried to help, shining a light in my ear to see if they could do something but that just made the spider try to get away from the light, going deeper into my ear. I was about to go crazy feeling that thing moving around in there.

Finally mom poured some baby oil into my ear and the spider, not wanting to drown, popped out. It fell on the table and I hit it so hard with my fist the table jumped and made everything on it turn over. But that spider didn’t get back into my ear!

Another night I had just checked a hook and baited it up. When I stood up I grabbed a limb to steady myself and caught a glimpse of something that made my heart stop. There was a huge wasp nest about two inches from my hand and a foot from my face.

Luckily, wasps don’t fly at night and none came off the nest. But it was one of the worst scares I had running hooks.

Once while frog gigging with two friends I had a close encounter of the snakey kind. Bobby was in the back of the boat paddling, I was in the middle with the spotlight and Harold was in the front with the gig. We spotted a big frog under a willow tree and eased in toward it. I stood up so I could get a good angle with the light while Harold lay in the front of the boat with the gig.

As the front of the boat eased under the tree I grabbed a limb to steady myself and something made me shine my light on the limb. A few inches from my hand a water snake was lying on the limb, probably asleep. I didn’t scream or anything, I just told Bobby to back us out – in a very squeaky voice.

Harold figured out what was going on and later said he was afraid to move, he was expecting something to fall on his back any second. We all had a good laugh about it but went to the truck, got a .410 and sent that snake to reptile heaven.

If you fish at night you will have some exciting memories – if you survive them!

Growing Up Fishing A Branch

I miss Dearing Branch. That small branch ran across one of the property lines of the farm I grew up on and it was my summertime home. My friends and I spent many happy hours there during hot weather.

Every summer we would dam the branch trying to make a swimming hole. There was one fairly deep hole where the branch widened then narrowed down, running between two big sweet gum trees growing on either bank. That made the perfect place to dam it up.

We did things that would have made us rebel if our parents had made up work so hard. We would take croaker sacks and fill them with sand to stop the water flow. Have you ever tried to move a big sack of wet sand? We soon learned to fill them very near where we wanted to place them.

One summer dad got some cross ties to use around the farm and we managed to drag one across the field, into the woods and to the branch. It gave our dam the backbone needed to hold the sacks and that summer we got a swimming hole with enough water to come up to our chins while standing up. We could actually swim some in it a little, but the hole was only about 15 feet wide and 20 feet long at most. It was still huge to us boys.

The cool water was great and a welcome relief after the hard work building the dam. We never bothered with bathing suits, we just stripped down and went skinny dipping. But the first heavy rainstorm would wash our dam away and we would have to start all over again. We never gave up, though.

Most summers near the end of August the branch would almost dry up and we would try to rescue the fish. We had a good supply of water at the house so we would carry the small catfish and bream up to the back yard in buckets and put them in wash tubs. A hose kept water running into the tubs and we learned to place them so the water cascaded from one to another, keeping several full.

The fish never lived more than a few days. And we never thought about the conflict between trying to rescue fish one day then going to a local pond, catching fish and cleaning them to eat the next day. Such were the ideals of youth.

I loved fishing in the branch, too. My greatest thrill was getting small bream and branch minnows to hit a “fly” made out of chicken feathers that I tied on a small bream hook with some of mom’s sewing thread. I would spend hours dangling the small bait near a stump in a hole in the bank of the branch trying to lure the skittish fish out. They were great trophies but I always let them go.

I guess what I really miss are the long, seemingly endless summer days of my youth, where a small bream was a trophy, we thought we could control our world with dams and dreams, and the responsibilities of adult life were still far in the future.

Soft Shell Turtles

The snapping turtle has not shown itself in my pond again. I guess being pulled out of the water by the tail gave it the idea my dock is not a great place to hang out. I have seen some little one swimming around. They look to be about a year old and I can’t tell yet if they are common snappers or Alligator Snappers. When they get older their characteristics will develop.

Back in May when we fished a tournament at West Point I saw more soft shell turtles than I had seen in years. They seemed to be in every cove, probably getting ready to lay eggs. They ranged in size from a few inches across the shell to one that looked to be about two feet wide.

Soft shell turtles are very shy, probably because of their soft shell. The shell is not really soft, it feels like leather, but it is not near the protection a hard shell would be. The soft shell makes them much easier to clean so they are prized for those wanting fried turtle or turtle stew.

These turtles look very different, even in the water. The first thing you notice is how flat they are. They look like a pancake! And their shell is usually a light brown, contrasting with the dark brown to black of most other turtles. Since they don’t come out of the water except to lay eggs I guess the color blends in better with the lake bottom. They spend most of their lives buried in the sand or mud of a lake or pond bottom, often shallow enough to stick their long neck up to breath without moving.

Their heads look very different, too. The nose is very extended, almost like a snorkel. Since it is so long they can stay deeper in the water with more of their head hidden and still breathe. They usually come up for air then disappear for a long time if you see them swimming around.

Last Sunday in the Flint River tournament I saw two soft shells swimming around. They were huge. One looked like it was well over two feet across its back. That means it was probably a female since they get much bigger then males.

Keep your eyes open while on area lakes. You might sight one of these strange turtles, especially if you are at West Point.

Turtles and Fishing

Turtle stew, anyone?

A few days ago I was fishing from my dock and noticed a light brown shape under the water several yards from me. It gradually got bigger then a head about the size of my fist came near the surface. A big snapping turtle had taken up residence in the pond.

Snapping turtles are usually very cautious but this one got a gulp of air, gradually sank and eased off. I could follow its progress across the pond since its light brown color showed up in the sun. It would slowly swim about 20 feet then come to the top for air again. It worked all the way across the pond like this until I lost sight of it.

Thursday I was on the dock again and the cloud of bluegill around me waiting on a handout suddenly started acting strange. They would open up and move away from something. Then I saw the light brown shape down deep under them. Slowly the snapper came to the top. I stayed perfectly still and it did not see me although it was only about five feet away.

It got a breath of air then its front end sank down while its rear stayed right on the surface. It floated in this position, looking for all the world like a floating chunk of wood. Its head was pulled back near its shell.

When a bluegill got near its head it would strike out at it. Anyone who has ever held a snapper up by its tail knows they have very long necks and can almost reach around to their tail. This one could strike out about a foot. I saw it try for three different bluegill but it never got one that I saw.

Friday it was back. When it came up a few feet from the dock and went into its hunting position I threw some food past it. The bluegill splashing around made small waves that pushed the floating turtle to the dock. I was able to reach down and grab its tail. When I lifted it out of the water it looked around at me like it wondered what was going on.

The turtle felt like it weighed about 15 pounds and its shell is about 20 inches long and 16 inches wide. I dropped it back into the water and it quickly swam off. I started to kill it then decided there were plenty of bluegill for both of us. Also, I thought I remembered they are a protected species.

We have two kind of snapping turtles around here. The one in my pond was an alligator snapping turtle, often called a loggerhead. They have huge heads and ridges that are almost spikes on their shell. They get big. The one in my pond looked pretty big until I remembered the picture I was shown several years ago. It showed a man standing by a turtle hanging from a tree by its tail, and it was taller than him.

I was told, if I remember right, that the turtle was caught in Lake Blackshear back in the 1960s and weighed 115 pounds. The biggest alligator snapper known is a 236 pounder living at the Brookfield Zoo near Chicago. There are unverified reports of a 403 pound snapper caught in the Neosho River in Kansas in 1937.

The common snapping turtle is smaller and has a smooth shell. Its head is big but not nearly as big as the alligator snapper. It too has a long tail but it is not as thick as the alligator snapper. The biggest one recorded was 18 ½ inches long.

I found a dead alligator snapper on the dam of my lower pond a few years ago. When stretched out on the tailgate of my truck, with the head and tail fully extended, it came within a few inches of spanning the whole width of the tailgate. The shell was about one third of its length with the head, neck and tail making up the rest.

Another alligator snapping turtle somehow got into a beaver trap I had set out a few years ago. The trap grabbed its head and drowned it. A third one got on a baited hook I had put out for catfish in my lower pond. I caught it soon after some baby geese, the first to every hatch on the pond, disappeared. I thought it may have eaten them but found out it is more likely the parents walked them off.

I have eaten turtle a few times. The first was when I was doing yard work in Athens when I was in college. The lady I worked for usually gave me lunch and one day she had turtle stew. It was pretty good.

Turtles are interesting and our world is full of many kinds, if you just happen to be in the right place at the right time to see them.

Fishing the Flint River

I caught this Flint River bream with black spots on a Mepps spinner

Rivers have always fascinated me. I grew up riding my bicycle to local farm ponds and creeks to fish, but the nearest river was over 30 miles away – way to far for my means of transportation. Maybe the lack of experience on rivers makes me want to be on them more.

The Flint River starts just south of the Atlanta Airport, flows about 20 miles from Griffin through Pike County, winds it way through the piedmont and Lake Blackshear to join with the Chattahoochee River in Lake Seminole. It is a beautiful river with natural surroundings for most of its length.

When I moved to Griffin in 1972 Jim Berry and Emmett Piland introduced me to wading the shoals to catch shoal bass. Shoal bass are a black bass species found mostly in the Flint and its tributaries, although it has been “stocked” by fishermen in places like the Ocmulgee River below the Jackson Lake dam.

I loved wading the shoals and catching fish. I sat down very hard on a lot of slick rocks and learned to carry a knife on my belt to reach in a hurry. Often we got caught in the current and would drift through deep pools until we could get our feet on the ground again. Problem was, trotlines crossed many of those holes and if you got caught in one you had better be able to cut yourself free in a hurry.

We caught a lot of shoalies on small crankbaits and Texas rigged worms. I learned to fish the eddies behind rocks and at the head and tail of the deeper pools. I also found out about “rockworms,” the dragonfly nymphs that lived in the moss on river rocks. Shoal bass love them and they are a great bait, if you don’t get your fingers pinched.

Last weekend the Georgia Outdoor Writers Association held our spring conference in Albany and we got several chances to fish the Flint River near there. I had fished the lower Flint a couple of times, once for a GON article with a local guide in Albany and again last summer when Niles Murray took me on a float trip starting at the Lake Blackshear dam.

Both trips were fun and we caught a lot of shoal bass. The guide showed me how well they hit topwater baits late in the afternoon. He landed a five pounder and I got one that weighed about 3.5 pounds. His hit a popper and mine hit a buzz bait. Topwater strikes make for exciting fishing.

At the conference I got to fish with fellow member Vic O. Miller, a local writer that knows the river well and loves it. But he has quite a reputation for turning over boats in the Flint so I was a little worried. He met me at the boat landing in his jon boat to go fishing.

The first thing I did after putting down my rods and tackle was to put on the life jacket he left out for me. Then he told me it didn’t float! But I still wore it all day.

We followed a pontoon boat about 45 minutes up the river. A guide there has a great set-up. The pontoon had racks on its sides for canoes and pulled his drift boat. After stopping on a sandbar the canoes were launched and two members got in each, with two more in the drift boat. They would fish back downstream with the current to the landing.

Vic and I ran on up the river for a few miles so we could fish unused water and started our drift back downstream. At one “blue hole,” a place where springs enter the river through the bedrock, we saw something chasing baitfish but we could not get them to hit.

I had carried three of my bass rods and tried a variety of baits without a hit. Vic fishes with a fly rod only and he was catching bluegill and long ear sunfish regularly. He wanted to keep some to filet for dinner and was catching a good many big enough to keep. After a couple of hours of him catching bream and me not getting any bites, I gave up and tied on a Mepps Spinner.

The bream seemed to like it and I caught a dozen or so, and the bigger ones hit the spinner. And, as luck would have it, I caught two small largemouth on it. We got him a good mess of bream before getting back to the landing and talking to the others on the trip.

The river was high and the shoal bass were not feeding. The two members with the guide fished with fly rods and caught a lot of bream and two shoal bass. One other member caught a couple of bass, one a nice shoalie, but that was it for bass. It was a great trip anyway.

Fish the Flint River if you get a chance. No matter what part you fish it is beautiful and you can catch fish. If the bass won’t bite, go for bream like we did!

About Fishing

Welcome To About Fishing