My first trip to Watkins’ Mill this year was a fruitful one. It was
March 31st and the weather only slightly threatened to rain. A couple
of minor sprinkles had fallen as I unloaded and prepared for the
paddle across the lake, so I donned my rain jacket, just in case.
The wind was already gusting slightly and was expected to increase
to nearly 30 mph gusts by noon, so I was certain to include my PFD
for this trip. A sit-in kayak is my preferred mode of transportation.
Mine is an 11-foot Perception America. I’ve had it out in fairly stiff
winds a couple of times and haven’t had any trouble with stability.
Just take it very careful, pay attention to the direction and speed
of the waves and paddle into them; also wear your PFD, if not for
your own sake then for your family. Kansas recently lost a kayaker
because he had no PFD.
I made my way across the lake to a cove filled with drowned trees.
I did very well last October when I set out to catch crappies
specifically. As I wrote in my Operation Crappie articles earlier
this year, I wanted to be sure that my success wasn’t a fluke. It
wasn’t. So, I was here again hoping my Springtime tactic would be
as lucrative.
This cove full of trees is a hot spot for bluegills and crappies,
but I’ve not had any bass take a fly here and wasn’t sure whether
they weren’t interested in what I was throwing or if they just
didn’t like this particular section of water. Whatever their
reasons for seclusion, I was here for crappies and the bass
would have to wait their turn.
The last time I was here the crappies were only medium-sized, but
plentiful. I was catching them on a flashy little fly I dubbed the
Pan-Handler featured as a FOTW. It’s really tied more like a
pheasant-tailed nymph using peacock herl, now that I think about
it. But, the crappies liked it a great deal. This time of year
the crappies are in pre-spawn. They’re moving into shallow water
to feed on small minnows in preparation for spawn. The fly for
this time of year should imitate a baitfish, so I was going to
be using a Clouser Bucktail. I tie mine either wild or tame, as
I call them. “Wild” simply means to tie the wing of hair in at
the hook-eye, in front of the barbell weight, but not behind it.
“Tame” means to tie the wing hair down both in front of and behind
the barbell. The wild version seems to have a bit more life to it.
But, the “wild” technique was purely accidental, the result of an
over-eager fly-tier…(me.)
My first few casts were merely warm-ups. I worked through the
winter and this year we had ice over the winter trout lakes
around Kansas City, so I wasn’t sure my casting arm was thawed
out yet. The arm felt great and the casting didn’t seem to have
suffered for the lack of practice, so I let the buck-tail fall
into the channel I had pounded so successfully last year. The
channel is about 12-14 feet deep and runs nearer the south half
of the cove. There’s a particular gap between two trees where
they lay either side of the channel and the crappies seem to
school heavily right around that spot. This sweet spot didn’t
let me down this time, either. My first fish of this season
was a crappie about 7-inches long.
The rest of the morning was fairly nice for crappies; I was
catching a crappie on nearly every cast at one point. I also
caught a smallish bluegill and 5-inch sunfish from another
area of trees.
I realized I was getting a bit stiff from sitting so long, so I
decided to paddle north to another cove. I wanted to see if my
tactic was the reason I was catching fish, or if it was just that
location. When I arrived in the next cove, it was fairly wide at
the mouth and it cut well back into the woods. The trees weren’t
really close to the banks along the first half of the cove, but
they grew closer as the cove tightened in. The cove ran back about
a hundred yards and ended at a small logjam with a depth of only
about 3 feet. There didn’t seem to be much water flow in this cove,
since it was so far off the main body of the lake the waves didn’t
cause much flow. There was a smaller cove off this one where it
seemed the algae had begun to set in clumps about 3-4 feet across.
They lay just on the surface and tended to attract a few leaves and
other debris.
I remained in the main channel and began casting near a small twig
that I saw protruding out of the water about a foot from the shore.
I figured there might be a bluegill or two in a fallen tree limb
there. All of a sudden, my line became very heavy. My rod began to
bend and I dropped the tip with the pull on the line to put the load
into the butt of the rod. I’d never hooked into a fish this large with
a fly rod in the three years I’ve been fishing. I thought it might be
a channel catfish, since they’re listed on the creel limit signpost.
But, as I tended my line to insure the tippet didn’t snap, I realized
this monster wasn’t a catfish, he moved too fast to be a cat. Then, as
he charged for open channel I watched the biggest bass I’ve ever hooked
on any rod, plow right past the kayak like a freight train, his dark
form bulging, those big yellow eyes set on his course of retreat, angry
with the sting of the hook in his clinched lip. Yup, he was a tad
ticked off!
With a careful application of pressure through the rod I turned him
back toward the kayak, hoping to get him into reach, or at least wear
him out a bit. He wasn’t having any part of my thoughts about landing
him; he headed into my forward anchor line and intended to wrap my fly
line around it. I anticipated his move and put the brakes on him just
as he passed the anchor rope. He was unable to get much more than his
body around the rope, and when I gave him a bit of slack, his head was
already turned and he came right up alongside like a freighter docking
to unload. As I looked down at this hulking giant of a bass, I was
thrilled with the thought that this lake was home to such fine creatures
of delight. However, my delight was just what he took advantage of, as
I reached down and grabbed the tip of my line with one hand preparing
to position him for a good lipping; he fanned his great tail, broke the
tippet free and drifted into the darkness leaving me with the vision of
his great mouth hanging open with a gold barbelled buck-tail inside, and
those great, angry yellow eyes glaring back like he knew where I lived.
Gee-whiz, all I wanted was his picture.
The excitement of this event has caused me to move bass closer to the
top of my list of fish to pursue. I’ll definitely be back after old
yeller-eyes! Meanwhile, I returned to crappie cove and continued to
fish into my sixth hour and was able to land more fine fish including
a small redear sunfish, and a beautiful one at that.
Another couple of fishermen came up in a bass boat to take the afternoon
shift in the cove. I spoke to them about the day’s events and showed them
my photos. One said he’d never seen a redear before and so, took quite an
interest in my picture. I bid them farewell, cinched up my life jacket
and paddled into the 30+ mph gusts and 3-4 foot swells. As I paddled
into the wind and waves I was pounded by the water breaking over the
top of the bow being blown right into my face. My glasses allowed me
to keep an eye on approaching waves and the kayak glided into them
extremely well. The wind wasn’t much trouble as I paddled, but I do
think a rudder would be a very nice addition. A large wave broke over
the bow and water landed in my lap soaking my seat, my pants, and my
hat. The digital camera was inside the pocket of my rain jacket and
remained completely dry. I landed the kayak and dragged it out of the
water, stopped on the shore to catch my breath, and thought to myself
that this great little lake might just be spoiling me, but I don’t
mind it a bit.
Good luck with your fishing this season. ~ Tim
About Tim Lunceford:
Tim lives and fishes near Kansas City, Missouri. He’s been married
almost 24 years, is the father of four kids and a new grandfather.
He works as a Heat and Frost Insulator for Local Union #27 in K.C.
~ DLB
Originally published May 28, 2007 on Fly Anglers Online by Tim Lunceford.