‘Extreme Walleye Fishing’ on Oneida Lake

An early evening at Phillip's Point.

An old buddy of mine called late last week. "The walleyes are finally hitting at Phillips Point," he said. "Wanna give it a try tonight?"

"Sure," I replied.

I was supposed to meet him on site, on the north shore of Oneida Lake. But his car broke down on the way and he never made it. I suppose I could've gotten the heads-up if I had my cell phone. But I never take it into the outdoors. So I fished all by myself, which is what I would've done even if I'd gotten word he couldn't make it.

I know. You should never leave home without it. But my main reason for going fishing is to get away from it all, and carrying a cell phone kind of defeats the purpose -- the ring, vibration, music, whatever signal I choose to let me know a telemarketer, my boss, or sweetheart want to talk to me, breaks the spell induced by a combination forces like whitecaps slamming into shore, bird songs, and mixing the present with memories of outings past.

I arrived about 4:30 p.m. A string of guys was already in the surf. I waded out and started tossing a silver-sided/black-backed Bomber.

Wind was tearing out of the south, creating caressing whitecaps. Cool autumn nights had stirred the inshore waters to optimum temperatures. The weeds had lain down for winter, making casting clean and easy.

The wind propelled the 30-something degree temperatures into gusts that tore into my cheeks, ears and fingers like volleys of pain. The unruly, downright inhospitable elements brought to mind a comment Central Square resident Tim Oliver made the night before: "This is extreme walleye fishing."

And it is -- if you're not prepared for it. But like my old pal Mr. Wilson said a few weeks ago while we fished Lake Neahtahwanta in the rain (see posting of 9/22/08): "Ain't no such thing as bad weather, only bad attitude and bad clothes."

Luckily, I didn't have either. Comfortable in my waterproof parka and neoprene waders, I enjoyed myself immensely, thinking ‘boy it's miserable out here, but I'm warm and dry.’ It's a good feeling taking on the elements like that without suffering miserably.

Around 5 a walleye slammed my Bomber. He was an 18-incher, big enough to hit the lure hard, yet too young to be lazy. He fought like he was twice his size.

Looking around me, everyone had a fish on that evening--I got two, the second one was a hair under 20 inches.

The window for autumn's surf walleyes on Oneida Lake is a narrow one. Most guys only fish from about a half hour before sundown—you’ve got to get there early to claim a spot -- to about an hour after lights out. Oh, the fish still hit after that--throughout the night, in fact--but standing for long periods in the dark, out in the open, in rough water, saps your emotional strength.

The bite will last for the rest of the month and some diehards will keep at it until the ice stops their lure cold.

Get to Phillips Point by taking NY 49 east for about three miles from Central Square (I-81 exit 32). Turn right onto Toad Harbor Road, then left onto McCloud Drive three miles later, and drive about a mile to the end.

Good luck.

Fishing on Oneida Lake

Salmon River Mixed Bag

A brown trout in Autumn Colors

The worst thing about fishing in November is the extreme changes in weather. A super cold front with freezing temperatures and snow can shut the fish down. But a couple days of warm weather can start the action boiling again. This week's Indian summer promised to stir the Salmon River into the ideal temperature for browns, steelhead, rainbows, and some late salmon.

Before hitting the river on Wednesday, I stopped into Fat Nancy's on NY 13, across the road from I-81 exit 36 north, to see if I called it right, and to find out where the fish were.

"The river's loaded with fish from top to bottom," claimed Tiny, an associate of the tackle shop.

"Steelhead ranging from 5 to 10 pounds, rainbows going from 3 to 5 pounds, and browns from 3 to 12 pounds are everywhere," said the part-time fishing guide (One More Fish Guide Service, 315-529-6427).

I asked Tiny to describe any physical differences between a steelhead and rainbow.

"On rainbows the spots range further down on the body and they have a prominent pink stripe early in the season. Steelhead are green-backed and silvery on the sides and don't develop the pink until later in the season," he answered.

Egg sacs are the most popular bait. Tiny suggests carrying a mixture of colors and using bright hues on cloudy days and dark colors when it's bright outside.

"Another highly productive bait is a trout bead, especially in chartreuse, sun orange, Glo Roe and Cotton Candy Pink," he volunteered.

Warmer water seems to restore the fish's appetite for worms. Tiny prefers "baby night crawlers." However, for the squeamish, an artificial worm that's equally productive is Berkley's Gulp Alive 2" Fish Fry.

Use a float to help detect a bite. The fish are active, hanging out in the fast water. They hit quickly and often subtly, and the float reports the slightest hesitation in the bait immediately, giving you a split second longer to react, enough time to make the difference between a solid hook-up and the ol' "I think I had a hit!"

I went out for a couple hours and followed Tiny's advice. I fished the pockets at the Staircase and nailed a 6-pound brown on a Berkley Gulp Alive 2" Fish Fry.

His radiant browns and golds reflected autumn's peak. I released him and he disappeared over the spent leaves carpeting the river's floor.

Early November casts a magic spell on the river. You'll not find a more pleasant and scenic time to catch a brown or rainbow trout as large and colorful as the one swimming through your imagination.

Brown trout in autumn colors

Local guide, John Kopy, with an autumn brown.

Pheasants on the Lamb

Jessica & Stan: Novice & Master

Sleeping on the ground instead of roosting in trees, pheasants are preyed upon by every mid-sized predator out there. If they're to survive for any length of time, they need a lot of grain producing farmland punctuated by grassland and heavy brush. For this reason, the Department of Environmental Conservation only stocks them in two spots in Oswego County: Three Mile Bay/Big Bay and Deer Creek Marsh Wildlife Management Areas.

Native to China, pheasants tolerate Oswego County's northern tier weather pretty well. But their preferred habitat around here is so small, most hunters only get them incidentally, while hunting ruffed grouse or rabbits.

While the Deer Creek WMA has all the usual suspects preying on pheasants, it has one thing that also contributes to their numbers: a pheasant preserve right across the street. Birds that escape Deer Creek Motel's Pheasant Preserve on NYS Route 3 (north of Port Ontario) find the patchwork of habitats pretty good on the other side of the road.

But preserves do more for hunting than just supply game; they also hone a hunter's skills. It's one thing to shoot a stationary target or even a clay pigeon launched from a trap; quite another thing altogether to target a speeding critter.

When you shoot at live targets anything can happen, and something always does.

For instance, last Monday I invited fellow blogger and Oswego County Public Information Officer Jessica Trump to a bird hunt. She had never hunted pheasant and accepted the challenge.

We arrived at the Deer Creek Motel and Shooting Preserve at about the same time. Owner Stan Ouellette welcomed us and had us sign releases. In the meantime, he took off in his ATV and stocked a bunch of birds.

When he returned, he fetched Belle, his wire-haired Pointing Griffon, and she lit off onto the trail ahead of us like a brown, low flying cyclone. We no sooner climbed over the first hill and she was already pointing. Stan ordered her to hold as we ran up, then gave the order to flush. The pheasant decided to race the dog through the high grass and we tried following them with our ears. Suddenly it shot up in a whirl of bright colors and feathers. Jess fired first, hitting the bird. Belle found it and brought it to us.

In about an hour and a half, Jess and Stan nailed five pheasants. Each surprised us with its defensive flight, only allowing us a couple of seconds to figure out what direction, height and speed it would take before flying out of range.

Before setting out for a hunt, regardless of the game, it's a good policy to refresh your skills, especially your patience and aim. A trip to your friendly pheasant preserve provides the ultimate target practice.

You'll indulge in some really wild fun, help some farm-bred birds escape into the wild, and bring home a tasty meal, too.

Jess preparing to shoot the bird

Discussing theory

A rooster rising

Rooster in flight

Belle on point

Belle, hard at work

Jessica, her first pheasant, and Belle

Turkey season: Part I, Northern Tier

Stan Oulette of Deer Creek shows off his turkey

With the salmonids running, walleyes, bass and northerns on the bite, deer season just around the corner, and turkey season in the northern part of the county open, I don’t have much time to go tramping around in the wilderness trying to get a gobbler. So when motel operator and professional guide Stanley Oulette invited me to hunt with him on Deer Creek Motel property, across NY 3 from Deer Creek Wildlife Management Area, I couldn't pass up the offer.

Stanley started a turkey dialogue right when we sat down in the woods. He scraped the slate call a couple times; followed up with a few calls from the diaphragm in his mouth, and answered both with a box call.

About 15 minutes later, a doe came out of the woods and walked past us less than 50 yards away. Ten minutes later, two bucks, four and six points respectively, came out of the same spot. They sniffed cautiously around our decoys, less than 50 feet away from us, before deciding the doe was more exciting and heading off in her direction.

Just as I was putting my camera away, Stanley whispered "Here comes a turkey, moving fast."

By the time I shouldered the gun she was directly in front of me, right in my sights. I fired.

A young hen, she weighed about 10 lbs. She wasn't the best turkey in flock, but she was a good turkey. What she lacked in size, she compensated for with a beard. Only about three percent of hens sport whiskers so I felt like I got a bonus.

After all that racket, we decided to hit another spot. On the way, Stanley asked if I'd like to see his pet Ruffed Grouse. I thought he was kidding. An outfitter having a pet grouse, one of the tastiest birds on the planet. Unbelievable???!!!

Entering a thick, young forest, Stanley called "Come' ere Pete. Where are ya Pete."

Nothing happened. So we left.

We hunted turkey a few hundred yards deeper in the woods. Stan did some calling. No replies.

We sat there for about a half hour and decided to move again.

As we neared the spot where Stan called Pete, a ruffed grouse emerged from under the brush and started circling us. "Here's Pete," Stan proclaimed proudly.

He went over and started talking to the bird. Tickled to see him it kept circling and jumping around, all within Stan's reach.

I always knew he was a good fisherman. Now I know he has an even greater connection with the woods.

Fortunately, I have photos to prove to myself the events of that morning really happened.

Deer Creek Wildlife Management Area and the neighboring lands boast some of the most productive game habitat in Oswego County. The WMA's marsh loads up with waterfowl; its lowlands teem with deer; and its openings support ruffed grouse, pheasant and turkey.

The easiest way to get there is to head north on NY 3 from its intersection with NY 13 for 1.8 miles to the public access site at the bridge crossing the creek. Other easy access sites are the dirt road 0.1 mile north of the bridge and the next road 0.3 mile further north.

This is Pete, Stan's pet Ruffed Grouse

Stan standing next to Pete

This photo is dark, but it shows the two small bucks next to the turkey decoys.

Downtown Oswego's Early Autumn Rites

Frank Pizza, a Ringwood, NJ native, holding the brown he took out of the plunge pool below the dam in Oswego last Saturday.

Late last week NY got the butt end of the hurricanes that swept through the South. As expected, the rains cooled the Oswego River down some, drawing significant numbers of king salmon, browns and steelhead into the fast water. I went up Saturday to give the river a couple yanks.


A lot of fish were in the power company's tailrace, but the water is deep and the walls high. I'm a feet-in-the-rapids kind'a guy so I went straight up to the dam.


Enough water was coming over the wall to make the going treacherous. Some guys were so excited they just ran into the current without testing the waters and ended up being swept off their feet and performed what locals lovingly call "the 100-yard bob."


Still, guys standing upright covered every rock on the island facing the west falls. The fish packed the surging water below their feet.


Everyone was nailing salmon. But the beasts were so big, the water so high and anglers so close to one another, there was no way to get to open water to wage battle. So the fish kept breaking off. The thrill of a hook up and the anticipation of landing a wall-hanger was more than a match for the heartbreak of the line snapping. Everyone kept fishing and hoping.


Groups of fresh fish numbering a dozen or two ran the rapids to the plunge pool every 15 minutes or so. For 15 minutes the only bent rods were those that were snagged on bottom, then suddenly five fish would be on at the same time.


Browns and steelhead were a different story. Averaging about eight pounds, they were more manageable and many were landed.


The vast majority was fishing ethically. Oh sure, some started out snagging, lifting and lining. But the nasty looks they got from everyone around them convinced them to fish with character.


The salmon runs will only get thicker from now until mid October. The browns will stick around for roughly the same period. Steelhead will remain from now until April pigging out on the eggs.


The best way to avoid doing the 100-yard bob is to take your time and walk by leaning into the current and sliding your feet.


Good fishing.

If you look closely you can see an angler holding the "King that DIDN'T get away".

Anglers fishing the power company tailrace in downtown Oswego.

Scene of the action at the west hole at the dam in Oswego last Saturday.

Salmon Runs are Here Again

Fishing at the Schoolhouse Pool in Altmar

A rather large run of king and coho salmon, punctuated with monster browns and a smattering of steelhead ran the Salmon River last week. So I went up twice last weekend to see how the fishing was.


Around 3 p.m. on Friday afternoon, I stopped at Fat Nancy's Tackle Shop to pick the brains of the clerks. Jason Maccue was replenishing some stock. I asked him "how's the fishing been?"


"We've had good runs each week so far this month," he replied. "Currently, the fish are everywhere in the river. They're even in the creeks." (Trout and Orwell Brooks, tributaries of the Salmon River, and nearby Little Sandy Creek.)


All excited and shaky and stuff at the delicious news, I tried my luck in the Staircase, on the western edge of Pulaski. I saw a couple kings taken by others but I went fishless. The fish were huge; I estimated them about 25 pounds each.


After an hour I decided to go upstream to Pineville. The fish were in the pool below the bridge and I saw one of about 30 pounds landed. Several other guys yelled fish-on but their trophies broke off quicker than they could repeat the phrase.


I hooked one about 30 pounds. While rigging up, I was expecting fish in the 20-pound range so I tied on an 8-lb. leader. Big mistake. When the fish took off downstream like the Jamaican bob sled team, all I could do is let it go and try keeping up by running after it.


I was holding my own pretty good until it dove under a freshly fallen log and wrapped the line around a leafy branch. The line snapped and the last I saw of him, he was tailwalking down the rapids laughing at me.


On Sunday, I got there by noon. Everywhere I went, from the Black Hole and Staircase to the Trestle Hole and Schoolhouse pool, I saw guys with salmon. Not the relatively tiny 16-pounders of recent years, but the monstrous 25- and 30-pounders that we used to get back in the '80s and early '90s.


I scored one in the pool just below the bridge in Altmar. She took a half of a chartreuse Gulp Grub I fashioned to resemble a salmon egg. This time I packed a 12-lb. leader. She gave it her all but my Trion's drag stayed true. After her initial burst of speed failed to relieve the sting in her mouth, she stopped to figure out what to do next. I took the initiative and horsed her in as much as I dared. Everything went right and in less than 10 minutes she was at my feet.


I tailed her in about a foot-and-a-half of water and held on for a couple minutes to give her a rest and admire her beauty. Weighing well over 20 pounds, she lay on her side for a minute.


Catching her breath, she righted herself and I could feel her muscles flex. When she waved her tail violently, I relaxed my grip and she quickly faded into the rapids like a beautiful dream into early morning.


Great quantities of kings, cohos and brown trout will run the Salmon River until around mid-October, and smaller, but significant numbers will run until November.


There will still be some fish of each species available straight into December; but November usually ushers in steelhead time.

A happy angler with a 25lb king he took in the Schoolhouse Pool.

A shot of a pooch, a rather large one at that, watching his master fishing at the Trestle Hole in Pulaski.

Lake Neahtahwanta: Fishing on Fulton's Edge

Wes Coy and a Lake Neahtahwanta largemouth bass

Stories about fishing on Lake Neahtahwanta are about as common as hair on a bobber. And that's just wrong; considering this 683-acre lake laps the shoulder of NY 3 on the west side of Fulton, Oswego County's second largest city.

Wes Coy told me about a friend of his who was a native to the city. Over the years he’d caught several trophy bass, northerns and crappies in the lake.

So last Tuesday, along with Wes’ friend Paul Wilson, we decided to give it a try. We launched at the North Bay Recreation Area into a typical summer of 2008 kind of day -- windy, rainy and unseasonably cold.

Loads of fish appeared on the graph. Each of us got solid hits in the first few minutes. All short strikes, they were exciting nonetheless. You see, the roils the fish made in the shallow water sent our imaginations into overdrive.

An hour into the trip the clouds opened up. I started complaining about the foul weather.
"Ain't no such thing as bad weather," retorted Paul, "just bad clothes and bad attitude.”

To prove it, he sat down ostensibly to take a break, and started snoring a couple minutes later.
In the meantime, Wes and I fished the shoreline, pounding lily pads, root balls, mats of floating vegetation, float plane pontoons, docks, duck blinds, weed beds, all the usual stuff.

"How’re they hittin'?" asked Paul when he woke up.

“Pretty good, but they’re just nipping the tips of the baits,” Wes said. “Last night’s thunderstorm and this cold front are making them a little skittish.”

Sure enough, when the sun came out around noon, Wes nailed a keeper largemouth in the grass next to the recreation center’s docks.

The day’s highlight came at the very end. Wes was telling the story of how a bass pro buddy of his won a big purse in a national tournament in the last few minutes of competition.

Just then, a monstrous bucketmouth struck his Bass Bone with such force its swell flooded the mat it was hiding under. Feeling the hook penetrate its jaw, it plowed through the slop into a channel feeding the adjacent swamp, tangling Wes’ line, and breaking off. The wake it generated while barreling into the lowland will remain in our memories forever.

Lake Neahtahwanta's bass, pike and panfish will be feeding heavily from the middle of this month through first ice. Your best bet is to go on nice, clear days when the year’s waning warmth stirs the fish into a feeding frenzy in preparation for the lean winter months ahead.

Here's Wes in a moment of truth on Lake Neahtahwanta: a big bass hit, Wes Hooked him, the beast dove under a mat of vegetation and got off.