Peck's Pond is billed as a pickerel paradise, so it was with high hopes that we rented rowboats and tied on steel leaders. This lily pad-choked lake offers up tons of prime territory for toothy predators to ambush whatever might be unlucky enough to get within view. We had an arsenal of deceivers, poppers and streamers and we were pumped at the potential that the day held. To top it all off, I had a sweet new fly fishing messenger bag that my girlfriend made for me out of my old favorite pair of jeans. In short, I was dressed to kill. As were the perfectly camouflaged pickeral we were chasing.
Dressed to Kill
We rowed, dropped anchor, stood upon the seats in the boats for a better view and cast a 360 degree circle around our location, over and over and over and over again.
The Double-Haul caused the boat to rock a bit too much...
Weeds and Lillys
Precariously Perched...
Speaking of dressed to kill...check out Big Poppa Pump manning the oars.
After 6 hours of this I had one pickerel (which I mistook for some weeds caught on my fly) follow my deciever for a few feet and Adam had jumped one fish. The other boat with Mark and our father in it had not even seen a fish. Thats was it.
Ultimate Fake-Out. Weeds.
The thought of it turning into a shut-out occured to all of us as we tied out boats together and laughed over a drink. We were amazed that none of us had fallen out of the boats yet, as one person typically rowed while the other stood on the other seat and cast to promising lies. The sudden accelerations from the rowing action and the sudden decelerations from the weed beds made for some interesting moves while perched at the front of the boat. We were pretty astounded that we hadn't seen more action, also. No wakes charging after our flies as we stripped them in. No explosions in the pockets of weedless water. No slashes, no follows, no looks, no hits, no misses.
Endlessly searching.
We didn't really care, however. It was a lot of fun to explore the lake in the rental boats and it was great to fish with my dad, brother and friend together one more time before I move to the islands.
Post-drink break, we worked the west side bank of the lake and fished the shallows around the docks of the rental homes in the area, when, after casting a specially tied, weedless, rubber legged bunny streamer next to some lillys, Adam finally hooked up. It was a 10inch largemouth bass. After so many fishless hours in the heat we joked about taking a hundred pictures of it and passing it around so we could each hold it and remember what it was like to actually catch a fish.
Rippin' Lips.
Over the next two hours, Mark hooked into a slam pig bluegill and one pickeral while Adam brought to hand a 17" largemouth.
Fish of the Day. 16.75" measured.
Googly-Eyed Poppers.
Captured one, at long last.
On the way back to the dock, as we struggled to keep the boats within the lane cleared through the endless weeds, a bald eagle swooped down towards the water and pulled up at the last second. It perched in the top branches of a dead tree overlooking the lake. It was quite a sight.
A Bald Eagle.
The King of the Pond.
Four fish, four fishermen, eight hours. It was a great day.
P.S. - The Best Sunburn Ever, courtesy of Adam and a hat.
