Planning for NOLA

The saying that your life changes forever when you have children, though trite, is also 120% accurate.  Make that 240% since I have twins.  Gone are the days where on a whim, you can simply head out on a Friday after work for the weekend of “whatever you want to do”.  Planning weeks, if not months, in advance is usually what is involved when you have 20 month old twins.  In a couple years it will get a lot easier.  This will be especially true when they are at the age where they can come with me.  For now, it takes planning.

Since my 6^th anniversary of my marriage coincides nicely with Memorial Day weekend, I thought I’d bend my wife’s ear to the idea of driving down to New Orleans for the weekend.  She had never been to NOLA for more than a couple hours, and we thought it would be fun since it’s only 6 hours from Memphis.  With my parents committing to taking care of the twins, the planning of the trip began.  My buddy, and former guide in the area, was generous enough to give me great intel into the areas where he guided around Port Sulphur, LA.  He is currently stationed in Texas with the Air Force, but he happened to be taking a trip back to his stomping grounds just weeks before my trip.  This would mean he'd be able to give me some more up to date information when I did get down there.  He helped me map out key areas to target redfish on the fly.  With the locations planned out, the next step for fly fisherman who also tie flies, is to hit the bench and knock out about 500% more flies than will ever be necessary for a trip.  But I find it to be a wonderful way to build anticipation.  As I had heard from many local fly fisherman, "If it ain't got purple or chartreuse, it ain't..." well, you get the point.  I mixed in a few more natural looking shrimp patterns, sliders and seaducers in the lot as well.

 

Also whipping up some hand tied 9ft leaders to accompany my flies.  With more than 75 flies for a 2 afternoon fishing trip (it is my anniversary after all, I had to spend some time with my wife) I was now part way ready.  45 days out, I procured a new motor for my Gheenoe.  A 4-stroke 9.8hp Tohatsu would be strapped on to the stern.  This was a big step up from my 1970’s 6hp Evinrude, which was mixed as far as reliability and performance went.  I tested it out on a local lake to see how it ran, and was pleasantly satisfied with it hitting near 20mph (the old 6hp barely made it to 10mph). 

A few other temporary mods to the Gheenoe included a casting deck of sorts in front of the front seat, and a raised platform on the back inspired by Geofish’s Gheenoes in their film.  It wasn't pretty, but I was shooting for function more than form for this trip.  I plan to fiberglass in a permanent front and rear deck with compartments at seat level, remove the middle seat, and put in a flat floor, but that will be a summer project for later.  I replaced my trailer’s bearings, installed new bunks, a transom saver, a trolling motor mount, and slapped on brand new shiny wheels and tires to be sure there wouldn’t be any hiccups getting down there.  I was now basically set to go.  We loaded up the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, and made the 6 hour drive down to the area ravaged by hurricanes in the not so distant past.

My wife committed to coming with me Saturday afternoon provided we wouldn’t be out longer than 4 hours.  My married friends out there know that it’s important to keep the boss happy.  Being that my wife is a 1^st grade teacher, and Saturday was her first official day of summer, she was not too eager to leave the comforts of our hotel bed.  With some coaxing, we made the 1 hour jaunt to Port Sulphur with the Gheenoe in tow a little after noon.   We were welcomed by the amply friendly owner of the boat launch.  We chatted as I prepped all the gear and loaded the boat, and wished us good luck as we launched.  We made the short 1 mile scoot to the first bay I had been instructed to target.  We found only slightly stained water, but were greeted with partly (changing to completely) cloudy skies.  This made my out of practice eyes even more challenged in being able to spot fish. 

 

Thankfully it didn’t take long to find fish tailing and pick out fish swimming near the bank.  After a couple flubbed casts at fish less than 20ft away, a missed hook set, and one fish that came unbuttoned on it’s first run, I finally was hooked up on a decent Red.  My wife never touched the spinning rod I had rigged up for her since she was content laying back with her feet up, and snapping a few action shots of me fighting my fish. 

 

Since she is inexperienced when it comes to fishing, she didn’t understand why I didn’t just reel the fish in, and why I kept letting it pull line.  Because her biggest fish was a 4lb catfish, I had to explain why this fish made my reel make the wonderful sound as the fish fought to get me into my backing, but never quite did.  It wasn’t the prettiest redfish (lacking a spot on the tail and possessing several deep scars), but it was self-guided, hooked on a fly I tied, and my first redfish on a fly.  So it was special to me. 

 

Shortly after the release, I rounded the corner and spotted a distinctive grey forked tail next the shore sticking out of the water.  I made a quick flip to the tailing fish and my fly was attacked as soon as it dropped in front of it’s face.  The fight was nowhere near what the redfish put up, but to catch a sheepshead on a fly was still very cool.  I’ve caught a couple on shrimp in the past, but I’ve been told it’s quite a big deal on a fly.  Since it was only the second one I’ve thrown a fly at (the first was 20 minutes before), I had to take other’s words for it.

 

 

Shortly after his release, the thicker clouds came in, and so did the gnats.  I knew this was my cue to pack up.  If I was ever to convince my wife to join me again, I knew better than to make her suffer through that.

The following day, my wife chose shopping and an afternoon at the day spa.  It was a fair trade to me going fishing by myself.   The weather was perfect.  I marveled at the perfectly clear sky.  I had visions of dozens of redfish, dancing in my head.  The wind was only blowing 4 mph, and I would be hitting a strong falling tide just in time.  This was going to be awesome.  I hit a spot further away based on my friend’s suggestion, and how he had done extremely well there just 2 weeks before.  Unfortunately, the water didn’t cooperate.  Each spot I hit was chocolate milk.  I spotted a couple tailers, and one belly crawling in 3” of water, but nothing came to fruition.  My very limited knowledge of the area prevented me from getting too adventurous in trying to find new water.  I trolled up a few channels up into some ponds hoping to find clean water, but each time was to no avail.  The water was teeming with life.  Shrimp and mullet were everywhere, but my quarry remained hidden.  The only real excitement of the day occurred when in a channel only 10 yards wide, a dolphin popped up 10 feet from me and exhaled in a loud blast.  Let me tell you, when you are all by yourself, in tight water, and the silence is broken by a dolphin breeching that close to you, it can be quite a shock.  It was quite neat however.  Dolphins are slightly more than unusual coming from the fresh water in Tennessee and Arkansas I’m used to.  My fish count for the day wasn’t a complete bagel.  I caught an 8” long catfish when blind casting.  He was also generous enough to gouge my finger worse than any other catfish I’ve caught.  So this would have been one of those times I would have preferred to be skunked.

The trip didn’t quite meet my hopes and dreams of an epic fishing trip, but I didn’t go home without some great memories to go with the few fish I did catch.  Though my wife may not have cared all that much, it was still cool that I got to share the unique experience of catching 2 fish species that were my first on a fly.  New Orleans left me wanting more.  I almost certainly will forgo a weekend of duck or deer hunting if I get another opportunity to make it down this fall when cleaner water, and even more redfish cruise into the saltwater marsh.

Christmas Snipe Hunting

Christmas time often conjures the thoughts of relaxing by a warm fire, and drinking a big mug of hot chocolate. My last Christmas Eve was spent slightly differently. After a fantastic duck hunt with my seemingly long lost brother, and a big breakfast, the next undertaking on that day was a quest for Wilson’s Snipe with my recently acquired 20ga over/under. My dad and brother chose to relax inside and hold with the traditional Christmas Eve responsibilities as opposed to trudging through ankle deep muck on an unproven mission for a flighty quarry. With the recent rain, a nearby field with a small standing corn crop, next to a wide open mud flat had now accumulated a couple inches of water, making it ideal for snipe. That is where I set out with my lab, my new gun, and a box of #7 steel.

Having low expectations, I simply put the shells in various pockets of my waxed cotton overalls, not thinking even thinking of where I would put the snipe if I actually killed any. As we approached the field edge, we quickly jumped a couple snipe sitting on the mud flat 40 yards from us, and well out of range by the time I could shoulder my gun. It was a good sign though. Taking the first steps into water bordering the corn, I was greeted by a handful of snipe getting up out of the corn. I missed the first shot, but dropped one with the top barrel. My lab was on it immediately, so I crouched back down anticipating the inevitable circling of the group I had flushed. As expected they passed right overhead, resulting in another bird down. Having no place to put the birds, I simply held them between my fingers in my left hand. Quickly however, I had 5 birds down, and more shells burned than I care to admit. This left one of my pockets open to fit 4 of the birds surprisingly. My dog and I continued walking the muddy edge with the same tactic of flushing and then crouching. Perhaps the only thing a snipe does that makes them a viable bird to hunt is their willingness to circle back over their original point where they were flushed. Counting on being able to shoot more than a couple birds in a hunt off simply off their initial flush, would be unreliable at best.

Limits of snipe are rare most of the time in a vast majority of Mississippi. Weather changes seem to bring migration influxes of birds, just like with ducks. These are the times when it makes a snipe hunt worth all the effort. In other times, you may be lucky to jump a half dozen. On that particular morning, that small field with about 1 acre of water on it, held a couple hundred snipe. In less than 45 minutes, I had my limit of 8 snipe, and had one heck of a workout making my way though that thick, sticky mud.

Christmas Break Duck Hunting

As is the theme this hunting season, free time is still sold at a premium for me. Trying to hunt when I can, in between work and helping with the two new babies in the house. But I had plans to try and slip out for a couple days after Christmas. In addition, with last minute plans coming through, my best friend Chris hopped on a plane from Canada the day after Christmas to visit for a week. He has always loved fishing, but he is not a hunter per se. Though over the many years we have been friends, he has acknowledged that to hang out with me involves a good amount of hunting, and he has warmed to it over time. I do know he really only enjoys it as long as he's comfortable, and dry. My company in itself does not sustain his desire to hunt in fowl weather, so I make my best effort to make sure he's happy, knowing he really only does it because he's a great friend. So after arriving in Memphis the night of the 26th, we quickly headed down to my hunting club in Mississippi, only stopping for some extra shells and the obligatory Chick-fil-a that he has fallen in love with in his visits to the south. Too amped up on good stories from our past to go to bed at a civil hour, we watched a movie late into the early hours, which resulted in a rude wake up from my alarm mere hours after finally passing out. Though the Mississippi winters pale in comparison to the Canadian prairie winters of Manitoba he's experienced his entire life, it was still below freezing for a change. This meant a decent layer of ice on the shallow flooded field we were hunting. My dad forgot something back at the lodge so he dropped us off with the 4 wheeler and headed back to grab it. Everything was locked up, so he wasn't anticipating much early anyways. Chris and I broke ice for 15 minutes, gently and deliberately sliding the biggest pieces under the edge of the hole we made as to make the most open water possible. Finally getting set up a few minutes after legal shooting time. The birds began to trickle in slowly at first. It quickly began to pick up as the birds spotted the only open water around and worked us beautifully. Singles and pairs early, and then the larger groups of Mallards and pintails later. Chris and I had our 12 ducks and 1 goose laying next to us in about an hour. They comprised of mallards, gadwall, teal, a pintail and the speckle belly that flew a little to low with his buddies. It was a fantastic first morning of the trip and Chris stayed warm and dry, so he was plenty happy. My dad arrived and the birds were still complying with our spread and calling, and my dad picked up a couple more greenheads and a bull pintail while Chris and I checked out a new spot we hadn't hunted yet.

The next day it would just be me and Chris hunting the morning of the 28th as my dad hunted with one of his friends. It also brought everything Chris hates about hunting, cold wet weather. We had pouring rain and 10-15 mph winds right off the bat. Thankfully it wasn't below freezing, but still nothing he would go out in if he wasn't such a good sport. To top it of, the birds were very shy. The cloudy skies made it easy for the birds to spot us in the limited cover we had on the bank. The wind was at our back and the birds would work beautifully until, like clockwork, would veer off right as they came to about 60 yards. My pup Brook got some great work though. The longer shots we were forced to take made for long retrieves. Of which she made flawlessly. I was a very proud papa. One susie that drifted out 200 yards into a muddy plowed field, and I sent Brook out on a long blind retrieve. I stopped her on the whistle approximately at the distance I was guessing she landed. I motioned and yelled 'over' to my left. She was on her almost immediately after catching the scent. I was especially surprised by this, not because of what she is capable, but because of how little I've worked with her in between now and last season. She is only 1.5 years old and I trained her myself having never done so before. She made several other fantastic retrieves on birds that landed in thick cover, where their recovery would have been near impossible without a good dog. We ended up with 9 ducks (gadwalls, wood ducks, teal, and a couple mallards) and 1 speckle belly goose I called in, and one friend who was wet enough by 9am that I didn't want to make him suffer through any more just to get 3 more ducks. Due to the pouring rain, we never got a picture after the hunt, but the memory of my dog won't be easily forgotten. The last morning, Chris decided to stay in bed since he had been feeling crumby all week, and figured a decent sleep was probably needed. So my dad and I hunted together. The sunny skies that were called for never materialized, and again the ducks did not want to finish, and if it weren't for a first 20 minutes of the hunt being good shooting, the hunt would have been a bust. Even with the 20mph winds, the ducks just weren't moving, and the few that were, didn't like whatever we had to offer. We called the hunt a bit earlier than normal right around 8am. My dad and I ended up with 7 ducks total, 5 being gadwalls, 1 teal, and one mallard. It ended up being the best day of the three for Chris to choose his bed over a pair of waders to be in. Brook again did great and occasionally complained when we let ducks with with boot lips land in the decoys while waiting to see if the wary mallards circling high above us would comply.

Thanksgiving week finally rewarded with some hunting at the end

The week leading up to opening day of duck season held plenty of chaos. First we would be travelling with our 3 month old twins starting Wednesday morning and not stopping until Saturday evening. Wednesday we left Memphis for Jackson, MS to take family pics with my in-laws. Our babies feed every 3 hours, and the drive to Jackson is 3.5, so you do the math. We ended up stopping at a Hampton Inn in Batesville, MS and feeding them in the breakfast area since it was empty at 11 am. We made it to Jackson with enough time to get unpacked before feeding babies again. We then went to take pictures with my wife's parents and 3 brothers, along with their babies. 7 kids, all under 4. Lots of screaming kids. We finally wrapped that up to get back to her parents to feed the babies (I think you are seeing the pattern for my week). Next day we went to Meridian for Thanksgiving lunch with a ton of her family. Lots of more chaos and feeding babies and driving. Finally Friday rolled around and we went to my hunting camp. I missed the morning duck hunt, but it was a bust anyways, so I didn't care. Almost as soon as I got there, I passed off the babies to my mom and dad as well as the other guest to take care of for a bit. I went off by myself to some stress relief and sighted in my AR with it's new scope I got for my birthday, and then proceeded to burn off an additional 40 rounds just for fun. When Saturday morning arrived, and for me my first duck hunt of the 2012-13 season, I was wide awake in anticipation since the 3 am feeding of the babies. Brook, my 1.5 year old lab was more excited. She was bouncing around and almost howling with excitement after suiting her up in her neoprene dog vest. The hunt was great. I took a member of our club and his grandson. We were covered up in wood ducks at first light, and then plenty of spoonies and teal after that. I was letting the grandson shoot primarily and he ended up with 3 shoveler and a wood duck, and I managed 2 mallards and 2 wood ducks in between chasing his cripples with Brook in the flooded corn. It would have been a fairly easy limit of 6 birds for me, but giving a young kid the opportunity to shoot by himself at the ample opportunities was fun. 2 more birds for me wouldn't have changed my life. Brook made some great retrieves and found a couple birds that landed in thick cover that would have been impossible to find without her. Here's Brook after the hunt while I picked up decoys.

We pushed home to Memphis Saturday afternoon since the birds really aren't down to our place yet in Mississippi, and ended up bow hunting for deer Sunday morning in Tennessee. I saw a ton of deer that were on the move with the rut in full swing and the first sub 30 degree morning, but nothing worth shooting. A couple small bucks passed by, and several does came well within range, but I wasn't going kill anything unless it was a nice buck. I wasn't too concerned with not killing anything. I've killed a lot of deer in my 30 years of existence (and 17 years of actual deer hunting)and most with a bow. Deer hunting is my least favorite of all the hunting I do, but it has the longest season of anything I hunt and it fills a lot of time between turkey, dove, and duck hunting. Since I exclusively bow hunt, I can hunt them from late September to the beginning of January in Tennessee. However, it has become more of a meditation to me now. It's a way to just sit comfortably by myself in silence and just relax. And there's no better way to relax than in the peace an quiet of nature.

Hunting Days are Few and Far Between

This hunting season has been fairly meager as far as hunting opportunities go.  Since the twins came at the beginning of September, I have only been able to get out 3 times.  Once for doves, and twice for deer.  Thankfully, each day of deer hunting has been good.  I've had plenty of deer around me each time.  This last trip was almost ruined by some local dogs as they were running in the woods I was hunting.  I had to chase them off before getting in the tree last Saturday morning and wasn't settled in until sunrise.  With my opportunites being so infrequent, I was none too pleased when this happend. 

The week before I was slam covered in deer all morning.  All does, yearlings, and spikes, but still a lot of action to keep me alert.  The only downside was I was going to try and get out of the stand early and head back as soon as I could so my wife wasn't alone with the babies for too long.  Unfortunately, I had deer under me until 9:30am and didn't get down until 10am.  Add that to dragging out, field dressing, and dropping off the doe I shot at the donation site, it was after noon before getting home. 

Both morning were gorgeous.  Acorns were dropping like rain in the white oak stand of woods and deer deer were taking full advantage.  I was able to seal the deal on a healthy doe.

Pre Rut November bow hunting in Tennessee

This is a video of a couple early weekends worth of hunts I had last season.  I passed on a bunch of smaller bucks and eventually took a healthy mature doe for the freezer.  With the cooler air in the mornings, the deer were certainly moving more.  I couple weeks after this, I spotted the buck I had been after.  There were rubs and scraps all over this hill side I'd been hunting, and I knew there was at least one good mature deer working the area.  Unfortunately I didn't catch him on film, much less shoot him, as he was chasing does through thick brush.

Here's the result for the freezer
 

Adding a fighting butt to fly rod

A couple years ago, I was wanting to buy a used 3wt Orvis Rod with Battenkill reel from a fellow that was selling all his fly fishing gear.  He wouldn't sell just the 3wt setup, I had to buy it all.  That included a bunch of very good fly tying gear (with a $150 vise and at least $150 in almost all unused materials and hooks), a White River 5-7wt fly reel with almost new Orvis 6wt WF line, and a like new St. Croix 6wt 2 piece rod.  All for $350!  I sold the vise on ebay for $100+ since I already had a vise and felt like I made out like a bandit having only invested $250 in about $600+ worth of gear.  However, I already had a very nice Scott 6wt for trout fishing and didn't really need the St.Croix or the reel it came with, but figured I'd hold on to it as a back up rig.  That was 3 years ago and it hasn't been out of it's sleeve.  So on a whim, I decided I'd add a fighting butt to it and make this my official bass rod that I'd leave at our hunting camp year round or I might use it for a lighter carp fishing rig as well.

To do so, I ordered a fighting butt from the tackle and rod building site mudhole.com for a couple bucks ($7 shipped).  I then cut a 6" section off an extra carbon arrow I had laying around and drilled a hole the same diameter as the arrow shaft into the butt of the fly rod.  Most non-fancy fly rods have a plastic butt cap that is easily drilled through.  Conveniently, the arrow fit perfectly snug inside the rod blank, so I did not have to drill into it.  I then glued the arrow shaft into the cork butt section after sanding it with some sandpaper to ensure a positive surface for the glue, and put glue inside the rod butt section and slid the arrow in.  I used a heavy duty polyurathane adhesive for this.

Here is the after picture.  It would take looking closely to tell it did not come from the factory like this.  Once it gets a little use, that cork will match the factory handle just fine.  All for about $7 using glue and an arrow I had laying around, and about 15 minutes of my time.  I thought it was well worth it.  You could add a thick metal (aluminum or brass) bushing in between the cork and the rod base to make it look more professional, but that was not a concern of mine.