07-26-2005, 04:25 AM
The only way I can sum up my day is to break it into two seperate seperate trips. Trip A - horror, frusteration, and humiliation. Trip B - joyful redemption.
I got to lindon this morning about 5:30 am to find locked gates and no sign of when it was going to open. So much for being on the water at first light. I had a quick decision to make. Head for another portage or wait for the gatekeeper. I decided that I could get anywhere else by six and maybe lindon would be open by then, but maybe not, so I headed for lincoln beach. Quarter after six I'm on the water and fishing. As soon as I rounded the jetty my bobber disappeared. I took up the slack and set the hook to a tight line and then nothing. My line had snapped at the hook. Since I'm running 14lb. fireline and I got about 1lb of pressure on the fish before breaking I'm assuming we had a little knot issue, but no problem the fish were biting and it was still early. This short encounter was the last sniff of a fish encounter I was going to have on Trip A. I floated around south of the marina for the next four hours, spending a large portion of time drowning a worm hoping a praying for a mudder or carp just to chase off the skunk, of course to no avail. I even spent a some time trying to snag carp to use as fresh bait, but nadda. Then shortly after 10:00 am my heart stopped as the unthinkable happened. As I was changing rods the handle on one hooked the one next to it, pulling it from the holder and depositing it on the bottom of Utah lake. My last bit of sense went into snapped in and I threw out a marker bouy as panic washed over me. A quick inventory and wouldn't you know it, it was the St. Croix Legend Elite. Over $400 sitting in the mud in 6 feet of water. After failing to snag the rod with a big treble hook I did the only thing I could. I put into shore and in front of the shore armada along the jetty I stripped down to my skivvies and swam the 100 yards back to my marker bouy. Thus ending trip A
Trip B started off fantastic. On my first dive I recovered my lost rod, none the worse for wear. I strongly concidered calling it a day, before anything got worse, but stubborness won out. Now well after 10 am I figured catfishing was all but over for the day, but no sooner had I put back in and the drag started screaming. It was fast and furious. Six channels, two mudders, and a small walleye over the next two hours kept me as busy as a bee. I was even doubled up at one point. All of my cats were in the 5 - 8 lb range. The walleye was small around 18 inches and was sent back for a later encounter. Four cats got the invite home for dinner. It didn't really make sense to have the cats turn on late in the afternoon like that, but I'll sure take it. The cats were all taken in about 2 feet of water on red shiner chunks left over from ice fishing (forgot I was out and was lucky to find the shiners in the bottom of the freezer).
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I got to lindon this morning about 5:30 am to find locked gates and no sign of when it was going to open. So much for being on the water at first light. I had a quick decision to make. Head for another portage or wait for the gatekeeper. I decided that I could get anywhere else by six and maybe lindon would be open by then, but maybe not, so I headed for lincoln beach. Quarter after six I'm on the water and fishing. As soon as I rounded the jetty my bobber disappeared. I took up the slack and set the hook to a tight line and then nothing. My line had snapped at the hook. Since I'm running 14lb. fireline and I got about 1lb of pressure on the fish before breaking I'm assuming we had a little knot issue, but no problem the fish were biting and it was still early. This short encounter was the last sniff of a fish encounter I was going to have on Trip A. I floated around south of the marina for the next four hours, spending a large portion of time drowning a worm hoping a praying for a mudder or carp just to chase off the skunk, of course to no avail. I even spent a some time trying to snag carp to use as fresh bait, but nadda. Then shortly after 10:00 am my heart stopped as the unthinkable happened. As I was changing rods the handle on one hooked the one next to it, pulling it from the holder and depositing it on the bottom of Utah lake. My last bit of sense went into snapped in and I threw out a marker bouy as panic washed over me. A quick inventory and wouldn't you know it, it was the St. Croix Legend Elite. Over $400 sitting in the mud in 6 feet of water. After failing to snag the rod with a big treble hook I did the only thing I could. I put into shore and in front of the shore armada along the jetty I stripped down to my skivvies and swam the 100 yards back to my marker bouy. Thus ending trip A
Trip B started off fantastic. On my first dive I recovered my lost rod, none the worse for wear. I strongly concidered calling it a day, before anything got worse, but stubborness won out. Now well after 10 am I figured catfishing was all but over for the day, but no sooner had I put back in and the drag started screaming. It was fast and furious. Six channels, two mudders, and a small walleye over the next two hours kept me as busy as a bee. I was even doubled up at one point. All of my cats were in the 5 - 8 lb range. The walleye was small around 18 inches and was sent back for a later encounter. Four cats got the invite home for dinner. It didn't really make sense to have the cats turn on late in the afternoon like that, but I'll sure take it. The cats were all taken in about 2 feet of water on red shiner chunks left over from ice fishing (forgot I was out and was lucky to find the shiners in the bottom of the freezer).
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