The water was like glass for the first few hours of daylight today. Seeforellen brown trout were pushing small schools of land-locked alewives to the surface and birds were working over them. Most of the action was on the eastern side of the Reservoir. Per water company regulations, we were stuck on the western shore admiring the unfolding events. Not even a bite today, but that is nothing new for fishermen here. If we only came for the catching, we would have stopped coming many years ago. This man-made oasis, in heavily developed south western Connecticut, is a place like no other. The raw beauty here is also accompanied by the small chance of landing a trophy trout or walleye. My fishing partner this morning joked about how, like the almighty steelhead, fish in the Saugatuck Resrvoir are fish of a thousand casts. It sure does seem that way, but it makes the ones you bring to the net all that more rewarding.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Memories of great battles, won and lost, came roaring back with every bend of the stream. We swore that every pool that we stopped at held trophy fish, though none dumb enough to fall for our imitations. The native brook and wild brown trout found here are wary creatures--there is not as much traffic here compared to other small streams in Connecticut. And the thick brush and overhanging limbs sure make a proper presentation a challenging task.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
You can almost hear the surf and smell the air in this photo. John Lambert, my grandfather, a WWII vet, and a Purple Heart recipient twice over, grew up with salt in his veins. Thankfully he passed his passion for surf fishing on to his son, my uncle Derrick, who in turn passed it on to me.
The photograph above shows my grandfather cleaning his conventional reel along the pounding surf of Block Island. Images like this one from the 'glory days' of surfcasting really strike a chord for many anglers, myself included. It was a different time back then; before the moratorium of the 80's, before mass closures of public access and before $20 wooden plugs. Surf fishing was phenomenal at legendary spots like Block Island's Southwest Point and Cape Cod's Race Point. I'm glad he got to experience a taste of those times.