The ILP Anglers

Who wants to go fishing?

I have recently re-aquired my love of fishing and have been fishing regularly now for the last couple weeks.

I have fished once in the ocean, off a pier, and I caught a baby octopus. I stick to lakes and especially ponds, for big-mouth bass, crappie, and trout in the mountains.

Bass fishing is an art. You don’t just throw a chicken liver on a hook and a bobber out, hoping to sit back and drink more beers than you ought. No, you use a fake worm with a weedless rig and a bullet weight…and you have to work the worm. The worm must mimic the action of a salamander or other amphibian, so understanding how and when to reel your line, tug at it, etc., is crucial to increasing your chances of landing one.

One of the advantages to the weedless rig is the opportunity to cast in thick brushy areas, or areas with stumps and other structures, which would otherwise snag your hook. The hook is buried in the worm, so it moves freely through and over such obstacles.

Now, here is the other side of that coin. Because the hook is buried, the bass won’t get hooked on his own…you have to “set” the hook. This involves pulling the line suddenly and forcefully at the right moment, when the bass has enulfed the worm and is swimming away. This sudden yank causes the hook to dislodge itself from the worm and slip through the fish’s jaw.

If you pull too soon, he’ll release the worm and you’ll lose him.

Me, well I have a feel for it. I know what the bass is thinking when he strikes it. The average bass’s routine is to bite, chew for a split second, and spit it out. You have to wait until he decides to take it…so you give him some line. With the drag set on your reel, gently pull some line toward you to feel if he’s running with it. Then, set the hook.

I’m tellin ya, its not as easy as it sounds. Where do you think curse words were invented? It wasn’t the sailors…it was the bass fisherman.

Bass are clean meaty fish. Even a one-pounder makes a good fillet if you know how to cut it. And we all know that fish is the best meat you could eat.

Trout, however, are the hardest to catch, especially if you are in a stream. You literally have to sneak up on them on the bank (beacause they can see you coming, I’m not kidding), and ride the current of the steam with your bait, navigating it toward sink holes and rapid bottoms, where the biggins hang out.

Crappie are just all around decent fish. They are easy to catch, via the first method mentioned, exposed hook and bobber…cooler of beer, etc. They like deep waters and have a taste for minnows.

I am having two bass fillets tonight for dinner. They are from a three and a half pounder I caught two days ago.

Some people work for a living, other people are living to fish.

You wanna have some fun? Try using a salmon fly rod and hair bugs. When the water explodes, so does you heart. (actually, I wet my pants :blush: )

God bless you detrop, you really are the glue that holds this place together.

  • ben


I prefer catfishing personally

velcro fly works better…



Catfish are nasty creatures, Imp. Scum sucking bottom dwellers…wait, those are lawyers.

Anyway, catfish are extremely difficult to clean and fillet, as I’m sure you know. You don’t just scale the things, you have to skin them. I can clean three bass to your one catfish…if we were racing. And seriously, it isn’t the best tasting fish. The meat is brittle and litterally smells like the water you caught him in.

How could you? Catfishing is also the laziest fishing. There is no sport to it. You are that guy I’m talking about with the cooler of beer and lawn chair.

Get off your ass and get into it. You should see me out there, Imp. I’m climbing fucking trees with binoculars, scouting the whole pond out before taking my position.

Bass like the sun and will gather together in shallow spots, and can be seen from several yards away at the right vantage point. I’m not kidding. Last week I spotted four very large bass on the other side of the pond by climbing a tree. I caught one of them, but the other three bailed. It was the commotion that scared them away, I suspect. Sound travels better in water and the slightest splash will make every fish around panic a little, in ponds that are small.

My brother and I lived next to the woods that would go on for what seemed like miles. We were on our own a lot as kids and would leave for the whole day. At the very end of the woods was the Wissahikon River and we took anything we could find (bait) from the icebox (yea) and used a long, straight branch and twine. And skipping rocks, chasing ducks and running away from nasty swans - loved that. God, am I sounding like Huck Finnette or what? But it is all true.

Rumor had it that there was a pervert who lived in those woods. Says a lot about my mother, doesn’t it? I never saw him.

Please don’t be sarcastic, Ben. If you want to say I’m all washed up…go ahead, I know its true. Christ, I haven’t written any essays in two years, and even then they were merely excellent.

Hawking has retured two of my theories, saying that I’ve violated Planks constant in my theory of redistributed particle velocities in chiral structures. I still say he’s full of shit. And Rorty, well, he hasn’t returned my phone calls in two months.

So I know what’s happening here. You don’t have to be a smart alec.

Hmmm…I haven’t fished with Hawking, but I do like to fish. Nothern Pike are my species of choice. They’re such magnicent creatures, truly freshwater wolves. They can eat prey 1/3 their own size and will eat ducks, etc in addition to each other. Walleye are a bit effeminent, but good fish to eat.

I have a reservation to go with my Dad to Canada this summer. He’s been going to the same lodge every summer for the last 30 years (the only time he missed a year was after he had a heart attack & was in a coma for a couple weeks). Since he’s getting on in years I’m especially eager to make the trip with him, not knowing how many more chances we might have.

Iv’e had some shark before , very delicate taste , than again i was the only one to add the hot sauce onto my meal lol.

“The Ol’ Diamond Back Sturgeon”- Primus, album “Pork Soda”

The old diamondback sturgeon came swimmin’ along
Minding his business one day
Rooting and sniffing and urging to spawn
In the mud flats of san pablo bay

A scent came around so he followed his snout
He found what was to his surprise
A golden morsel, a tidbit, a tight bunch of grass shrimp
Was there right before this buck’s eyes

He circle round twice and he took a big whiff
Then sucked up this savory meal
Then came a jolt and to the diamondback’s surprise
Through his lips cut the cold, barbed steel

In a panic the old diamondback sped to the north
He sped to the east, west and south
But the harder he swam, he still could not break free
From the tugging that pulled at his mouth

The old diamondback sturgeon came swimmin’ along
Minding his business one day

Hello F(r)iends,

Even though my grandfather is an excellent fisherman and the old man has asked me to go fishing with him several times, I’ve only ever fished once. I’ve never made the time–I’m always too busy fighting the communist I guess. :wink: In an effort to know the enemy I think I will go fishing sometime in July. OK, I’m joking, partially.

But reading this has certainly made me want to fish. Great thread!


Clerk: Yep, `General Sherman’. They say he’s five hundred pounds of bottom-dwelling fury, don’t you know. No one knows how old he is, but if you ask me (and most people do), he’s hundred years if he’s a day.

Customer: And uh no one’s ever caught him?

Clerk: Well, one fella came close. Went by the name of Homer. Seven feet tall he was, with arms like tree trunks. His eyes were like steel, cold, hard. Had a shock of hair, red like the fires of Hell.

A fish story: As a kid about 11 or 12, I used to ride my bike, pole across the handle bars, out of town to a drain ditch to fish for trout. I did this every day from the time school was out till school began again in the fall. In the really hot days in July and August, the fishing was lousy because the trout would go to cover to stay out of the sun. Somehow it dawned on me that they were staying hidden during the day and coming out to feed at night. Soooo, one night I sneaked out of the house, got on my bike, and rode about 5 miles out to a special fishing hole. It was about 1AM. I had to sneak past a farm house to get down to this hole, so close I could hear the alarm clock ticking in an open window. I got down to the fishing hole, baited up, and sure enough, hooked into one of the big breeders on the first cast. A nice fat 18 inch trout! I made another cast or two, and all of a sudden a meteor drug across the sky, one of those slow fireballs that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. (at least on an eleven year old). It scared the hell out of me - not that I was spooky or anything. I packed up and got out of there. I rode home, cleaned the trout by flashlight out in the garage, put the fish in the freezer and crawled into bed about 5AM. I was pleased that I had carried off the adventure and no one was the wiser. That night, my mother fixed trout for dinner. She didn’t say anything, and I wasn’t about to ask. We had trout for dinner so that I would know that she knew. I didn’t pull that stunt again until I was driving my own car, but an eleven year old dedicated fisherman had proved that he was smarter than those fish, and that was what counted.

if you really want to do some “sporty” fishing, get yourself 9 other guys, a long boat, several very sharp spears and go whaling…



Thank you, Huck. I loved that story. I would say, ah… nothing like a boy and his pole, but that would sound like Bessy and not Sara. :confused:

I found such an old fashioned sweetness in it. Thank you.