July 20 2014 - Mountain Run Lake

Went out to Mountain Run Lake.  Had planned to go to Aquia Creek, but didn't get motivated enough to do anything until that was too late.

The green herons are here too.

Caught a bluegill and a bass on a jig:

Some confused duck appeared to regard me as a surrogate mother, following me around for about 5 minutes:

I got tired of the duck being around, so I put on some speed and paddled away.  I was afraid to look back, feeling a little bit like Lot's wife, but I pointed the camera behind me to see the fiend giving chase.  

Catching up:

The motherducker still following me, I really put on some speed and finally lost him/her.  The duck (the brown blob to the left of the boat) found another surrogate mother.  Better him than me.

I assume some misfortune befell the duck's parents, but I don't really know.

July 19 2014 - Lake Orange

 Went down to Lake Orange.  It was overcast and cool.  Put in at about 6:45 PM

I fished up the lake, didn't catch anything, saw some green herons.  Before I started chronicling my trips, it never occurred to me  to wonder what sort of birds I was seeing.  It does add some color to the remembrance to find out what sort of birds I'm seeing.

Heading  back down teh lake, there were some baitfish breaking the surface, I cast a curly tail jig and reeled it through them, and caught this 10" bass, which was the only fish of the evening.

It rained off and on while I was there.  It never rained hard enough for me to get wet.

I took out around 9:30.  There was a guy at the lot who had 4 rods set up.  We talked for a little, apparently he is a tournament-winning carp angler.  He told me about some of his best carp bait, one of which was couscous with almond flavoring, and rice with ketchup.  This fellow was so committed, he even had a carp-related vanity plate on his car. 

July 16, 2014 - Government Island Park

This is only tangentially related to fishing.  I visited Government Island Park in Stafford County.  Government Island is so named because it was the source of sandstone used for construction of the White House and other government buildings in the nation's capital.  It also happens to be an island, although according to one of the information placards, it's actually a peninsula with marsh/wetlands between the "island" proper, and the mainland.  Given seemingly inevitable global warming and resulting sea level change that we might one day expect, they might have to revise this at some point.

Launch of watercraft is forbidden at this park, according to a signpost, so even though the trail abuts Austin Run, a tributary to Aquia creek, no go on putting my canoe in here.

Of course, some tattooed probable-felons were fishing in the creek with bobbers and worms, another prohibited activity.  Maybe I shouldn't concern myself so much with the legalities of launching a boat and just do it.  Although now I can't feign ignorance if I did launch watercraft here because of this post.  So much for my promising future as a hardened criminal mastermind.  

Alright, enough with the bullshit/insight.

After you walk across the boardwalk, there is a trail that approximately circumnavigates the island.  One of the first notable things you see is an area where slabs of stone were cut.  There is a sign that describes the stone cutting process.

 I'm assuming that this is a 20" trench:

 Here is a boundary marker for some property, as evidenced by the "RS" chiseled into the stone.  There was a information placard for this as well, but the picture didn't turn out.

 A picture of Aquia Creek:

As I made my way around the loop, I saw a turtle in the distance that looked strange.  What's this crazy turtle doing?  What's wrong with him?

Evidently, what's wrong with him is that he's a female laying a clutch of eggs.

As discreetly as possible, I filmed the turtle.  The film is pretty anti-climactic.  In retrospect, I should have watched until the end, but at the time I felt like I was imposing as it was and wanted to leave the turtle alone.



Too bad I only had my phone, which, as I've remarked before, makes a shitty camera.

Anyway, no putting a boat in here.

July 13, 2014 - Lake Orange

 Went down to Lake Orange, put in at 6:45 PM.  I had intended to go over to Aquia Creek today, but didn't feel up to paddling 6-7 miles, especially given the 30% chance of rain/storms.

Anyway, put in and fished towards the dam this time. 

 About 30 minutes later, it started to rain lightly, and there was some thunder off in the distance.  It only rained for about 5 minutes, and cleared up.

Caught an 8 inch bass that I released.  Then I caught an 11 inch bass on a small spinner (silver blade/red body 1/16 oz)  I had foul hooked him in the gills so I decided to keep fish.

 Caught a chain pickerel, maybe 15 inches, up the creek to the left of the dam.  Had him up next to the boat, trying to figure out the best way to land him without cutting up my hands, and then he flopped off the hook and was gone.  Caught him in about 3 feet of water near weed beds.  Caught him on a small spinner with red blade and blue body, with very slow retrieve.

Moved along the bank, casting my spinner up under the trees.  Snagged a lot of weeds, but did catch a decent 14 incher.  Slot limit here is 16-22", so he was fair game.

 

Took out at about 9:30.  The same grizzled local that I ran into last time was there tonight, and he'd caught a 22" walleye, which was an impressive fish.  He'd caught it on some sort of jib, I gather a swimbait or something similar.

I started the GPS log late, and forgot to turn it off until I was on the road.  In any case, here's my journey.  The reason I swung out so far going around the point near the dam was that there was a guy sitting at the point fishing with bobbers, and I assume live bait.  I'd guess that the point would be pretty good fishing, and next time I'm there, I'll have to give it a try.  I didn't fish much between the dam and the ramp on the way back, and that's water that I should probably pay more attention to as well.

July 11, 2014 - Mountain Run Lake

Put in at Mountain Run Lake around 6:45, fished the south bank using deep diving black crankbait, didn't do much good.

Looked up to find myself being surveilled:

Moved up the left creek, alternating between black crankbait and small inline spinner.  Caught a couple small bass.

Made my way back to the ramp, fishing with small inline spinner.

Talked with KW for a while.

July 10, 2014 - Mountain Run Lake

I went over to Mountain Run Lake after work.  The forecast was calling for a 60% chance of precipitation, lightning, and misery, but to me, being an eternal optimist, as everyone who knows me could attest to, that just meant that it was a 40% chance of sunshine and good times.

I put in about 5:30 and fished until about 6:30 when I got chased off the lake by rain and then thunder. I caught one bass, about 8 inches, on a black diving crankbait.

Because there was so little of interest that happened, I feel like I should take the opportunity to expose a massive conspiracy, the likes of which haven't threatened America since the moon landing.

The reason forecasts are bullshit, loyal reader, is that that's not really the way they work.  In truth, the probability of precipitation is not a linear function.  If the chance of precipitation according to forecasters is, say, 40%, then the actual chance of precipitation is 80%, in my experience.  If the chance of precipitation, according to forecasters, is 60%, then the actual probability is indistinguishably close to 100.

You might say, we have all these models, the GSF model, the European model.  You might say, supercomputers the size of school buses spend their days computing storm tracks and interpreting Doppler radar to generate snazzy colored maps to put up on the evening news.  However, all of this science and equipment is an elaborate ruse, a clever deception, because meteorologists are out to con us all.  All because of one group operating behind, nay UNDER, the scenes:  the bread-bakers cabal.

The bread-bakers cabal, a sinister group of malevolent thugs, sitting in back rooms in various bakers across the country, shower meteorologists with gifts, like free trips to Hawaii and a lifetime supply of seedless pumpernickel.  "Why?" you ask?  So that they forecast nice weather when it will certainly rain.

Why is this advantageous to the bread-bakers?

Imagine, for moment, that you are going to have a picnic.  The forecast is for a 40% chance of rain, so you say, that's a 60% chance of sun, so you go to have your picnic.  Maybe you take hotdogs, maybe you have hamburgers.  No matter what, you will take bread of some sort to wrap around the meat.

But then, a maelstrom hits, and what happens to your bread?  It gets soggy, and is no longer suitable for human consumption.  So you throw it away, or feed it to geese. (By the way, bread in large quantities is not a suitable diet for waterfowl.  Take under advisement before you throw a whole loaf at them.)

So then, you have to buy more bread that you wouldn't have otherwise.  The extra bread sales represent a greater profit for the bakers, and the kickbacks to the weathermen continue.

This is also why they forecast 10 inches of snow, and then you get 2.  Everyone goes to the store, stocking up on bread for the period when they're snowed in and would have to dig through 6 foot drifts to find sustenance.  Then, when the snow of the century passes by, all the bread rots and you throw it away.


You might say that I am deluded, and that no such conspiracy exists, in which case you're just part of the problem.  Also, just in case the bread-bakers cabal is reading this now, and are on the phone with their crack assassination squad giving instruction to take me out, I've mailed the evidence of this plot to my confidant with instructions to release it to the NY Times, the Washington Post, and the National Enquirer if I should die under suspicious circumstances, like being smothered by yeast rolls.


 On a different tack:

A message to the reader who commented a few posts ago that you'd caught a bass out of the stormwater pond near the old DMV location, and anyone else who might catch a bass out of there, I'd appreciate it if you'd leave them in there, to be fruitful and multiply, and cull the sunfish population.

I'd also appreciate it if anyone fishing that pond would be a little circumspect about it, lest it become overrun by worm dunkers and other individuals of ill-repute.

I also appreciate the efforts of whoever was kind enough to dump them in there in the first place.

July 6, 2014 - Beaver Creek Reservoir Pictures and track

As I put in, there was a sailboat, although they were under trolling motor power instead of sail.

Muddy water

Green herons, visiting from the Gulf.

A decent bluegill

A small bass

Sun going down

Sunset