What this Year’s Final Bassmasters Elite can Expect

By Spider Rybaak

An average Oneida Lake bluegill makes sunnies from anywhere else look tiny.

The 2012 Bassmasters Elite Series tournament wraps up on Oneida Lake this week, August 23-26. And although I fished the place pretty hard in the early weeks of the season--and the bass were abundant, cooperative and big--I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go out and try my luck just before the tournament…to test the waters, so to speak, and see what our visitors to Oswego County had in store.

So I get in touch with my buddy Ray, a native of nearby Liverpool. Not only is he a pretty decent fisherman and all around nice guy, he’s got a boat--and I don’t--which makes him the perfect fishing buddy.

We launched from his berth in Brewerton and headed out for open water. The weather was fair, the southerly winds moderate. We started a few feet from the Onondaga County bank and drifted toward Oswego County.

Half way to Big Bay the perfect hit slams my black and white bucktail jig tipped with a worm. I set the hook hard and I’m into a pretty respectable battle.

A couple seconds later, I knew it wasn’t a walleye because it was fighting too hard; and it couldn’t be a bass because it wasn’t fighting hard enough. I figured it for a sheepshead; a northern pike, maybe a cat.

It was neither. Instead, it was the bane of just about every bass enthusiast I know: a chain pickerel. Packing a mouthful of razor sharp teeth, these guys are notorious for biting through the line--biting-off, in Oneida Lake speak--getting away, lure and all. Losing baits and having to tie new ones on in the thick of competition is gonna make a lot of this weekend’s guests grumpy, I thought.

Reaching the weeds at the high side of the northern edge of the channel, I change to a spinnerbait and draw a couple more monster pickerel to the side of the boat where they look at me with pagan hatred in their eyes, but don’t hit. Sissies, I think as I cast out again.

After about a half hour of short strikes and some clumps of weeds, I switch over to a 6-inch YUM Dinger and pitch it into the holes and edges of weeds, emerging weed ends, weed clusters, anything unusual that we approach.

A nice largemouth of about 4 pounds nails it in a narrow channel between stands of vegetation. Diving for bottom, he burrows into the weeds like a drill. But he never has a chance. An old hand at bucketmouth tactics, I keep my favorite Abu Garcia Revos loaded with 30-lb test UltracastFluorobraid topped off with long stretches of 25-lb test Berkley’s Pro Spec Fluorocarbon leaders. A short, forceful pull on the line and the bass, crowned in weeds, reluctantly comes to the boat. I flip him in so quick he looks at me all surprised and stuff. After taking the hero shot illustrating this blog post, I release it to give the guys in the upcoming contest a chance at catching the happiness I just experienced. 

Large bass have an intoxicating effect on me and I couldn’t stop whooping, hollering, talking away. I should’ve, though, because right when I’m modestly bragging about my prowess, I get another perfect hit, from a bass even larger than the first, but set the hook too late. I feel the tension on the line and see him jet out of the water like a green geyser with a big lump in the middle but my line comes in empty.

A few minutes later, I’m still carrying on, another hits and I lose him, too. 

All this time Ray’s having a blast with sunfish and perch. The guy loves panfish and was busy working on filling his freezer.

Before long, the massive weed bed in Big Bay starts getting boring and we motor over to the other side of the lake to start our drift anew. But the wind picks up and the temperature changes noticeably, growing colder, and uncomfortable.

As often happens on NY’s largest lake, the wind died down as unexpectedly as it came up, things got comfortable, and we regained confidence. We felt pretty good and thought we might catch another bass or two, maybe a walleye and plugged away. But it seemed we couldn’t find another fish even if we were in a submarine.

So we packed it in and I went home to reflect on the day.

It is my unprofessional opinion that Oneida Lake’s bass population is in great shape for the upcoming Bassmasters Elite. Indeed, it might even be one for the record books.

Stay tuned.

Ray showing a nice bucketmouth.

Oneida Lake's pickerel are bigger than average.

Summer Evenings on the Oswego River

By

Spider Rybaak

Off the wall walleye.

Everyone who knows walleyes knows the river running through downtown Oswego is one of your best bets in the state for nailing big ones in the spring. After that, according to common knowledge, the water supposedly warms up too much for their comfort and they beat fins for cooler temperatures deep in the lake.

Well, that sounds good in theory. But don’t let it discourage you in real life.

You see, uncommon guys like me who’ve fished for these delicious beasties a lot know that walleyes are a warm water fish that thrives in rivers and can take the heat a stream dishes out. That doesn’t mean they like it—indeed, most of us don’t like a steady diet of temperatures in the high 80s either—but they tolerate it until the next rain storm or string of cold nights cool things down again.

Even during the height of a heat spell, you can find hungry fish downtown. But not just anywhere. You gotta targetthe cool spots. In the morning that means fishing the shady east bank; the west bank towards evening. Then there’s always deep spots in the harbor and bridges;as long as it provides shade, it offers comfort.

I went out a few days ago around 6 p.m. to see if my uncommon wisdom still held true. Parking in the fishing access lot abutting the south side of the post office on West 1st Street (NY 48), I headed down the ramp toward the river and proceeded toward the Utica Street bridge. Buildings blocked the sun casting shade over most of the river.

A couple groups were already there. One included a couple boys who spent more time casting than fishing. Apparently they were competing to see who could reach the farthest. Still, during periods when one or the other hesitated a moment to get a soda, tie his shoe, feed the ducks…a white perch or round goby would hit.

It was almost too easy; and it might have spoiled them.

Fortunately, a guy fishing just below them hooked a walleye, luring everyone’s attention toward him. A good-sized fish, it gave him a decent run for his money. Upon landing it, the boys and some adults went over to admire the catch.

He held his good fortune like a wizard’s wand. One stroke later it was on the grass behind him…and the boys simmered down and concentrated on their rod tips, hoping to be next to land a fish big enough to shower them with adoring attention from passersby.

They never got it.

Their uncle did, however. Setting the hook on a bite that threatened to flip his rod into the drink (it was resting upright on the rail lining the linear park wall), he didn’t even have to say anything to draw attention. His rod was bent in half and everyone just knew it had to be something…worth waiting to, see.

It ran upstream…then downstream…turned and headed for the wall in the center of the river. When that didn’t remedy the feeling that it was being led by a stinging sensation in its mouth to go where it didn’t want to go, it charged for the abutment of the pedestrian bridge. That didn’t work either and it reluctantly came in, putting up resistance that a pit bull shaking a rag would have appreciated.

All for naught; it was quickly netted. After admiring it for a split second, the uncle released it. The boys cheered—and cast out to where they thought it went.

A little while later, another group showed up to fish for catfish. I didn’t stick around long enough to see if they were successful, but I know from personal experience there’s some monster cats in the river—sheepshead and carp, too-- and summer’s the best time to catch them.

So, the next time you find yourself bored in the evening, and get the urge for some action in the fast lane, head for the river in downtown Oswego and bottom-fish a crayfish or worm, or work a jig or crankbaitin the current for some cheap thrills you won’t soon forget. 

The river's loaded with hard-hitting, pan-size white bass.

Downtown smallmouth.

Sandy Pond

By Spider Rybaak

Angry, the large northern swims just below the surface as if trying to figure out how to handle its tormentor.

Sandy Pond has always had a reputation for dishing out monster northern pike. Still does.

The difference between then and now is that once upon a time pike were recognized as fresh water tigers, second only to muskies, their larger cousins, in terms of ferocity. Toothy critters with a propensity for violently attacking lures--and hands that got too close to their mouths--anglers treated them with respect and admiration up until the end of the 20^th century. Indeed, it was customary to cut off the heads of large ones anddisplay them by nailing them over garage doors and trees—and porch posts on Halloween.

Nowadays, the majority of anglers don’t have time to consider the fish’s noble characteristics. Oh sure, people still travel from all over the world to pike hot spots like the pond in hopes of tackling with a trophy; but to most, they’re a pain in the... because they’re too hard to handle.

Still, many are taken incidentally by anglers participating in the pond’s numerous bass tournaments. You see, this is the best largemouth spot on Oswego County’s stretch of the Eastern Lake Ontario Dune and Wetland Area, a fantastic, 17-mile-long collection of sand dunes, bays and ponds. And even though there’s usually money at stake and every second lost to unhooking a pike means less time to fish for the tournament winning hawg, sportsmen who appreciate the mystery of nature’s wisdom see northerns as an important component of the aquatic world and treat pike with patience and reverence.

So when my good buddy Pat Miura uttered “Oh-oh…I think I just nailed something big…maybe a musky” during a recent walleye/bass trip on the pond, I had a feeling it was a large northern.

We were jerking Smithwick Rogues over breaks and the edges of weed beds for walleyes. When the northernfelt the sting of the hooks, it took off like a jet ski in the direction of the outlet.

“The only way to handle a fish this size, especially with treble hooks hanging from its mouth, is to let it tire itself out completely,” Pat reasoned.

A professional guide for almost 25 years, he’s an old hand at controlling large, uncooperative leviathans like trophy steelhead, monster landlocked Atlantic salmon, and boss hawgs.  Within a few minutes, the pike was circling the boat in an exhausted, last ditch attempt to avoid meeting the man up close and personal.

When it was at the side of the boat, Pat jerked the rod tip gently to see if the beast had another round of battle in it. Nope…It just lay on its side, gasping.

Close up: Note the 6-inch Smithwick Rogue in its teeth.

Oh yeah...We got largemouths, too.

And some more largemouths.

After a while, even the biggest grows tired.

Pond Hawgs

 Pat with an average-size Sandy Pond bucketmouth.

Sandy Pond is mostly known as a splendid sandy beach bordered by majestic sand dunes where sunbathers toast themselves to a symphony of high winds, roaring waves and the cries of water birds of every feather.

On the other side of the dune sits the real Sandy Pond. Covering roughly 2,400 acres, it’s the largest embayment in the Eastern Lake Ontario Dune and Wetland Area, a 17-mile long natural barrier system containing the tallest sand dunes between Cape Cod and Lake Michigan.

The beauty of the place makes it extremely popular. Much of its shoreline is developed with camps, homes, and campgrounds. The place gets so crowded in summer, I never gave its warm weather fishery any thought.

However, I always knew “the Pond” was a well for northern pike and perch in winter, and crappies after ice-out. Some guys I normally consider reliable sources of information claimed it was a bass hot-spot in summer, but when I went with them, we got skunked every time. So I ignored it from then on.

That was, until I went fishing on Oneida Lake with Pat Miura last July (see blog post of Aug. 2, 2011). One of the most popular fly-fishing guides on the Salmon River (315-777-3570; pmiura@aol.com ), Pat spends his summers pursuing bass.

As often happens, our conversation drifted around our fishing experiences. I mentioned my lousy luck on Sandy Pond.

“Really!” he said, incredulously, “There’s a lot of bass in Sandy Pond…Some really big ones, too.”

“Oh yeah,” I countered, “Prove it.”

“OK,” he replied.

Late last month we fished the place and I’ve been eating humble pie ever since.

Only averaging 8 feet deep, it’s loaded with bass habitat: docks, creek mouths, windfalls, sprawling weed beds, boating channels leading to campgrounds and summer camps, reed fields, you name it. The problem is, you gotta look for the stuff.

You see, Sandy Pond has…lots of sand; sandbars stretching for hundreds of acres, in fact. And you wanna avoid fishing over these barren spots.

Once we located a fishy looking area, all the usual suspects worked: floating lures like Zara Spooks and buzzbaits in calm areas, Berkley Powerbaits, especially Texas-rigged  4-inch Finesse Worms and Carolina-rigged 6-inch Finesse Worms in and along weed edges, Smithwick Rogues jerked in deep water and Berkley’s Heavy Weight fat Sink Worms fished wacky style.

During the heat of the day, I found finesse presentations extremely gratifying. A good braided line like Nanofil on my spinning reels and Spider Wire Fluorobraid on my Abu Garcia Revo and Toro Winch allowed me to feel even the slightest take.

This time of year the pond prepares to hibernate.  Most of the boating crowd has gone back home. With hunting and salmon seasons just around the corner, a lot of local pressure is removed from the waves, making it possible to find some peace on the pond.

Pat says autumn is one of the best times to fish Sandy Pond. The bass are big, fat and cooperative, the scenery is colorful, and the days are brisk, making for the kind of trips you’ll be telling your grandkids about.

 Casting to some heavy brush.

 Bassin' in the reeds.

My biggest of the day came out of some heavy cover clinging to a sand dune.

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.