I consoled myself by saying that all those waterways were going to be snarled up on opening day anyway; more trouble than it would be worth. Might as well wait a day or two, so as not to have to brave the Black Friday-caliber crowds.
I went out late today, Sunday, thinking that by suppertime, my go-to spot along the Chippewa River would be vacant, the initial rush of anglers mostly dispersed, home to face the oncoming week.
No such luck. That stretch of riverbank just below the Xcel Energy dam was more crowded than I've ever seen it, in fact. I don't really mind. At least, I don't feel like I should have some special claim to private space. I just wish hell that I did, because elbow-to-elbow fishing is kind of depressing.
I really got to get a boat.
On top of all the densely populated fishing space, I was greeted with the usual open-bail reel problems - line jumping off the spool, getting tangled - and in the water, the usual ceremonial feeding of lures to the river. There's a lot of rock and cement structure before the drop-off where I fish, and while this can be attractive to certain species, it's perilous to artificial bait users like myself.
To that end, I really should consider using live bait more often. I've done it before, but the results haven't been good enough to sell me on switching over completely. Besides, I like the challenge of casting out, tailoring my presentation and retrieve, figuring out what works and what doesn't. And I'm not a big fan of sitting there waiting for something to happen. I've seen people with three poles all propped up in a row. They lounge in a lawn chair by river's edge, sipping a beer, watching for the faint jiggle of a rod tip and prepared to spring into action. Groovy. But I can't sit still for that long.
It was a short outing tonight, on account of severe weather that rumbled through the area. While this was a drag, the approach of these storms was itself an interesting experience. As the sun disappeared and the sky darkened, I could feel the change. That is, I could actually feel the pressure drop - the air 'felt' different - and the temperature dropped significantly along with it. I think there's something about being out fishing that makes us more aware of these types of phenomenon, makes us, in the best of moments, more aware of everything.
As a general rule, the time preceding a cold front can be good fishing; the time after a cold front passes usually makes for poor fishing. I didn't really have time to take advantage of the pre-cold front though. I should have been out much earlier for that, but alas, had to work again.
I knew the storms were coming before I went out, but it must have been a fast-moving front, because when I checked the radar before leaving the house, the line of action was over the Twin Cities, an hour and a half to the west. I figured I'd have a solid hour, at least. But by the time I reached the river, barely ten minutes later, the leading edge of the front was already visible. Within half an hour, the sun was swallowed up and I spotted the first mammatus clouds, which almost always precede a storm. Not too long after that, it was dark enough for the lights along the top of the dam to come on.
I was one of the last to leave the river, stubbornly staring down the approaching storm, wanting to get as many casts in as possible, fantasizing about telling the story of how I wrangled a big northern just as the rain started to come down in sheets. But that big northern never struck, and when I saw my first bolt of lightning, followed barely two seconds later by a clap of thunder, I called it. There were some dieharders still on the river when I left, and two guys who showed up about the time I was leaving. They told me the were going to wait/ride it out. I admired their nerve, if not their common sense. I can't imagine it worked out too well for them; the storm was vicious for a while. It rained like hell for half an hour, with peanut sized hail and straight line winds that really did turn the rain into sheets.
A short season opener, and no luck on the line, but also no complaints. I could stand out there for hours and not catch anything and not want to be anywhere else. And I did. And I have.
And I will.
