Hit the North Shore’s Bars for a Grand Slam

By
Spider Rybaak

Dennis, Pittston, Pa, a guest of Anglers' Bay,
holding an  "eye" he took between Cleveland and Vienna Bars

Early last week, I was trolling along NY 49 for some juicy quotes and photos for my next book, “Fishing Oneida Lake” (Burford Books, Ithaca, NY, scheduled for release in autumn, 2014). A group of guys standing around in the parking lot of David C. Webb Memorial Park at Taft Bay caught my eye. They looked too burly, hairy and ugly to be trying out for the Olympic figure skating team. So I figured they must be ice fishermen.

I approached them slowly. When you look like me, you walk gently so’s not to scare anyone.

“How were they hittin’, fellas,” I asked.

All but the hairiest remained silent. 

“I got my limit of walleyes,” he answered “but came up a little short of a Grand Slam.”

“Say what?” 

“I was trying to hit an Oneida Lake Grand Slam,” he answered, looking at me askance, like I was really dumb. “You know, a limit of walleyes and a limit of perch,” he continued, with great patience and understanding.

“Of course I know what you mean,” I protested.

I mentioned what I was doing and Craig Storms immediately volunteered to take me ice-fishing, to show me “How to pick up walleyes and perch on the North Shore’s bars.”

Surprisingly, all the other guys started opening up, too. True to the tradition of camaraderie Oneida Lake ice-fishermen are known for, they all pitched in with stories of their day. Everyone agreed to having a ball, even though the day was the coldest so far this winter.

An aspiring guide, Craig volunteered to take me fishing to show me how it’s done. We agreed to meet 6:30 a.m., on January 8, at Apps Bait, tucked into the northeastern corner of the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation’s Cleveland Docks Public Fishing Access Site. 

We ended up heading out at Anglers Bay, just west of Vienna Bar, because we were “walkers” (the term mechanized icers use to describe their pedestrian counterparts), and that’s where the steep drop-off into the lake’s deepest area comes closest to shore. About a quarter-mile out, Craig pulls out his smart phone, goes to the Navionics App and starts looking for the 20-foot depth on the drop-off, more specifically, “a bend in the structure.”

Craig likes to fish the bends because they attract more fish. When he finds one, he digs a hole and lowers his MarCum LX5 sonar into it. 

“The bottom’s carpeted in fish,” he announces with the excitement of a man who just had the world’s most beautiful woman invite him over for a chat. 

He digs a couple more holes. Setting up his Otter Double--a two-man shelter--he pulls out a jigging rod loaded with a Slender Spoon, hooks on the top half of a pinched buckeye (he actually lets his left thumbnail grow all winter so he can pinch bait--and irritate his wife). Dropping it to bottom, he lifts it a couple inches and starts jigging pretty forcefully, in 4- to 6- inch sweeps, punctuated every 6th time or so by lifting it to arms-length.

I tie-on a Northland Buck-Shot Rattle Spoon, bait it, and follow his lead.

After about 30 minutes, our arms are twitching … Nothing.

We move about 10 yards north, into 28 feet of water. Craig drops his bait. A line separates from bottom and rises toward it (the lake floor, fish and the lure all appear as short horizontal lines on the graph).

“Seeing a separation head for your bait is very exciting. When it merges with the bait, the temptation to set the hook can be overwhelming. But don’t do it!” he says, with a look as serious as cancer. “Wait until you feel the hit before setting the hook,” he advises.

The fish hits. Barely legal, we agree it’s still a nice one. Breaking out in a smile, the master says “I can’t remember ever seeing a bad one, come to think of it.”

Dropping his lure back down, Craig gets another hit almost immediately, but loses it.

Things are starting to smoke, I think.

I get a hit without seeing a separation. The fish sped in out of the sonar’s range. It’s a shorty, too.

A couple minutes later, I watch a separation rise to my lure. Then it goes down again. Then it comes up. 

“Steady…steady,” Craig instructs.

After playing a mind game for a couple minutes, the fish hits. The fight is a good one. We’re using 4 lb. test line so it takes a couple minutes. But it appears, dodging maddeningly in and out of view. Finally, it goes vertical and Craig pulls it out of the hole.

After high-fiving, and taking hero shots, I decide to lay the thing down near the graph to get a photo of our set up.

Craig warns me not to…But no, I don’t listen. Somehow, that big, fat walleye managed to stick her head back into the hole. Craig grabbed her, but she slipped through his fingers like an exciting dream when you wake up. 

The Cleveland, Phillips and Vienna Bars boast drop-offs where walleyes and perch gather in winter, and slowly move west. Find the magic depth and you’ll stand a good chance of pulling fish dinners out of the hole until your arms hurt.

Still, Craig reminds everyone: “Grand slams don’t happen very often; only about 1 in 25 times out. But that’s what makes ‘em so worth it.”

You can access the best walleye spots from the Cleveland Docks Fishing Access site at the sharp bend on the hamlet’s east side, and at the little park at the end of Mill Street in the village of Constantia. 

Craig landing a good one.

One of our shorties

Craig on Ice

Withdrawing Walleyes from the Bank

Oneida Lake is on the edge.

Fishing the surf.

To the New York State Department of Environmental Conservation, it’s the biggest geographic feature splitting the state into northern and southern tiers. For meteorologists, it marks the southernmost spot of the lake effect snow region. And come fall, walleye anglers see it as the best spot around for taking massive quantities of delicious walleyes from its edges: the surf and bank.

Late September’s cooling water temperature starts the fish moving inshore. But the major forays to the shallows don’t start until mid-October.

And they’re in right now…Boy, are they ever.

Normally, reasonably competent anglers expect to catch at least one walleye ranging from 15 to 18 inches every night they go out, doubles sometimes, and a limit at least once.

This year it’s different. The fish are larger. I’ve seen more 22-inchers already than I’ve seen any other autumn so far this century. In addition, I’ve seen a couple two-footers, and one that went 25 inches.

The hottest spot is Oswego County’s southeastern edge, particularly the area around Cleveland. On any given night, a line of anglers forms on the sagging concrete wall of the Cleveland Dock Fishing Access Site, working stickbaits in the shallow water parallel to the north shore.

Others walk out on the decaying breakwall on the southern end of the FAS and take walleyes from the surf by casting due west.

The “eyes” are there pigging out on massive schools of buckeyes and shad, in water so shallow, the whites of their bellies look like whitecaps as they take the minnows on the surface.

If you think that’s exciting…it gets better. In fact, the autumn bite provides the greatest sensual feast fishing has to offer. For example, on windless nights you stand a good chance of seeing a school of bait moving right for you. Appearing like a choppy spot on the glassy surface, the patch of ripples slides silently past ya, often erupting into a jumping rain as walleyes charge into the group for dinner.

Equally thrilling is when a walleye--or sheepshead, bass, whatever--takes the lure at your belly right when you’re getting ready to pull it out of the water. Sometimes the hit is so violent, it’ll send a small tsunami into your waders.

This fabulous bite will continue until mid-November, slowly petering out until ice seals the lake for winter.

Osceola's Wayne Carew with a typical walleye taken at the Cleveland docks.

A good night's catch.

The night fishing scene at the Cleveland docks.

This 22-incher shows 2010's crop of walleyes are larger than normal.

Fishing at the Cleveland Dock

Set into the north shore of Oneida Lake, Cleveland, NY traces its roots back to the days of our country’s founding. By the first quarter of the 19th century, it had enough residents to support a general store and hotel. As the century rolled on, glass manufacturing, spurred by the discovery that the area’s sand was the finest around, caused a mini population boom. Its deep water port, dug out of Oneida Lake by the mouth of Black Creek, facilitated huge barges that carried finished glass products to the Erie and Oswego Canals and on to world markets.

Glass manufacturing is a distant memory now, but the docks are a local hot spot for everything the lake has to offer.

The fishing's easy at Cleveland Dock.

Dropping to about six feet deep right at the dock, fed by the cool waters of the creek on the north side, lined by weeds to the south, and straddled by concrete and rocks, the harbor is an ideal bass habitat. However, stuck all summer long by everyone from dock-side, leisure-time anglers in anti-gravity chairs to professional bass pros, these fish are savvy veterans.

Still, they gotta eat sometime, and you can nail ‘em on a free-swimming minnow, fat crayfish, or by presenting lures in new and unusual ways. For instance, I watched one guy nail a 15-inch smallie by twitching a floating stickbait on the surface. What was unusual about him using this popular low light technique is that he was doing it at high noon, out in open water.

Most who fish the dock are trying for panfish or bottom feeders. Yellow perch hang out in the open water, rock bass like the walls and rocks, and sunfish are plentiful along the weed edges. They hit the worms the majority is using, but I do just as good on a Berkley Atomic Teaser (a 1-inch tube jig/trailer combo) tipped with a Berkley Power Wiggler. In addition, my rig draws an occasional crappie and pickerel.

Walleyes move into the dock just about any time of the year, but especially in spring, when they run Black Creek to spawn, and fall, when cooling water temperatures draw them close to shore. They find the security of the deep water to their liking and stay all day long.

What’s more, this time of year the walleyes are drawn to the lake shallows on the south end of the fishing access site, within easy reach of surf anglers casting stickbaits.

Cleveland Dock offers some surprises, too. When I was there last week, I saw a sturgeon, my first in the wild. I was fishing in the shallow water on the north end and the thing come out of the deep. It moved sluggishly in two feet of water, staying in plain sight for a good two minutes. Unfortunately, all I had was my point-and-shoot camera and it doesn’t have a polarized lens so the fish didn’t appear in the photograph.

Get there by taking I-81 exit 32, and driving east on NY 49 for a little over 12 miles.

Panfish are plentiful.

My Abu Garcia fishing tackle resting on decaying structures from Cleveland's days as a thriving port.