Plan A on the Fox River was to wade as much of the river from Geneva to Yorkville. Over the past 15 years, I did a pretty good job of accomplishing this goal. Except for the pools behind the dams, there are only two small stretches I haven’t got to. One is from I-88 to Sullivan Road. The other is from the last downstream bridge in Aurora to the old North Avenue dam. The dam is now gone, but I’ve never made that hike.
As for the pools of the dams, I’ve covered all of them in Plan A via canoe. I have no clue how many miles this is, I’ve never measured it. I think it’s over 20 miles. On average over those 15 years, I fished from Geneva to Yorkville at least 80 times a year. There were far more many days wading other stretches of the river and many of the creeks that feed the river. But I’m beginning to lose track.
Back when I started doing this, I was living about 20 miles east of the river. Driving straight out got me somewhere in the middle of this stretch, kind of. It seemed like a good starting point back then, simply turn left or right along the river, pull over and fish.
At the end of 2005, I moved to Yorkville, which is right on the river. From my house, I can walk to the river in 2 minutes. I can shave off another 30 seconds if I cut through my neighbors yard.
I hardly ever do this.
For some reason, I kept going back to old haunts. I would drive up stream to familiar locations. I have no clue why.
This year I’ve decided to put an end to that. Plan B is to wade from the put in point by my house to Millington. I have no clue how far this is, I haven’t bothered measuring it yet. But I’m betting 10 miles. Over the years I’ve already covered some of it. I’ve waded at least 3 miles of this stretch and I’ve canoed all of it.
Down the hill from my house, as soon as you turn down stream, you see virtually no signs of civilization. There are power lines here, but as soon as you walk under them, there’s nothing for as far as you can see. I think the next bridge is 6 miles away.
Where I have spent a lot of my time down this way is on creeks. There are 6 of them in this stretch and I’ve covered quite a bit of all of them. This year is to concentrate on the river.
I figure that at 55 years old, I’m lucky if I have a good 10 years left to keep wading the way I do. I’m already starting to feel the wear and tear. I’ve learned that I can no longer do the marathon fishing days of 8 or more hours. I used to do a lot of those. Now I keep it down to 4 or 5 hours. The shorter hours in the water and prescription Advil have worked so far.
When I used to venture down this way years ago, I would call them Death Marches. The put-in and take-out spots were well over a mile apart and the wading through them was some of the roughest I’ve ever experienced. No where else on the river have I tripped over boulders in the water the size of a hood of a car and never seen it coming. For some reason there was no ripple on the water indicating an obstruction. I found two of them by getting cocky while I waded and flipped over them.
Through this stretch are a number of Kane County Forest Preserve properties and Silver Springs State Park. The KCFP properties are all relatively new and have made it much easier to access the river where it has been a brutal hike in the past.
I’ve also got to know a couple of landowners along the river that have given me permission to use their land whenever I want. This is going to help dramatically in one stretch in particular. It’s cutting a 3 miles in the water and 4 miles on the shore Death March in half. I can use all the breaks I can get.
Today I wandered about a quarter mile of the shore. Though the river is up a bit, the first 20 or so feet of the river was easy to wade. I have gone back and forth across the river here a normal water levels. This is a pretty deep stretch. There are long spots I had to back track out of before I filled my waders. Cutting across the river today was out of the question.
There was thunder rumbling in the distance when I left my house, but local radar showed it might just miss where I was.
It was close. Thunderheads were swirling all around where I was fishing. Flashes of lightning were just off in the distance on three sides. At one point it got pretty close and a bit of rain started coming down. Not having any brains when it comes to storms, I chose to stand under the over hang of a tree that was sticking out over the river for about 30 feet. Made a nice umbrella. Probably not a smart move, but it worked today.
Throughout the whole storm, the sun never went away on the far end of the river. When I got to the end of the stretch I wanted to wade, I stood about 30 feet out into the river to watch the sun set. Looking directly into it was blinding, the glare off the water helped obscure all of the details.
But when I turned around, the shore was lit up brightly against the dark storm clouds.
At this point, the storm warning sirens in town went off. With the dense woods up to the shore line, the steep bluff behind them and the hill beyond that, I couldn’t see a thing that was going on.
Oh well, what I don’t know can’t hurt me.
For my efforts at fishing, I got one tentative tap and one of the hardest, heaviest hits I’ve had in years. I got to feel the weight of the fish for a few seconds before it spit the lure out. Along here it could be a smallmouth, a big walleye, a muskie or a pretty substantial channel of flathead catfish. I guess I’ll never know.
While doing Plan A, my goal was to catch as many fish as possible. I did a pretty good job at that over the years.
For Plan B, I don’t care if the fishing sucks. I’m sure I’ll catch a few, but I’m not going to worry about it much. Plan B is something I have to do.
If I don’t, I’ll regret it some day.
bob long
12 May 2011Marathons. Life is, well, if not cruel, let’s just say “ironic.”
Spent many, many marathon sessions in many different places over the course of 20 to 25 years. Caught lots of fish. Would have caught lot’s more had I known then what I know now.
But I couldn’t have come to know what I now know without those marathon sessions. Now that I know a little bit about catching fish, those marathon sessions are, at 61, largely out of the question.
Such is the cruelty, or the irony. Just when you get really good at something (food, sex, fishing, art, whatever) – or succulent, as I like to say – you can’t do it the way you wish.
I used to think cruelty and irony were two different words: I now think of them as synonyms.
I did six straight hours of fishing the other day. No wading involved, just walking, standing, sitting, casting. Felt like a marathon. At too many times, the urge to pee, eat, poop, lay down, and nap overwhelmed my desire to catch a fish.
None of that was such a big deal in the woods. However, doing three of those five things in public will get you arrested around here.
I used to be able to put such urges out of my mind and simply fish through them. I can now still fish through them, but they refuse to leave my mind. Little voices as I imagine schizophrenics hear. The longer one trys to ignore them, the louder they get. Disrupts the rhythm and fucks with my concentration.
Now the only thing that allows my mind to ignore such basic desires – besides catching a fish – is the parade of creamy things biking, walking, jogging, running, and sashaying up and down the path behind me.
Given a choice between beauty, solitude and serenity out on the river, and beautiful, creamy sashaying behind me – well, that’s about a 50/50 decision nowadays. Both seem equally loaded on the upside with very little down. You stop and look a bit at both of them, sigh, appreciate it all to hell, wonder how many more you’ll get to see, understand both are temporary and you can’t take either of them home with you, sigh again, and go on about your business.
Ken G
12 May 2011Well put, Sir Bob.
I was never one to turn down a good nap while out fishing. There are many indentations in the tall grass all up and down the river.
I remember when helping you with the Kid Fishin’ . . . Lincoln Park . . . hey kid, gimme that rod, you’re mom wants to give it a try.
Get up close to them, here, hold it like this. Yeah, that’s it.
I vaguely recall while walking and gawking once, stepping into the pond.
Now I oggle deer, turkey, hawks, eagles and any other thing that walks, crawls or flies along the river. And enjoy it, and come home and write about it.
Sigh!!!!
The Four Season Angler
13 May 2011You guys make getting old seem so appealing….
Ken G
13 May 2011You’ll see soon enough. Enjoy it while you can.
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Cory Yarmuth
13 May 2011So Ken,
When does my phone get to ring with an invite to join in an adventure or two with you?
Maybe we can even have that Ed guy come with.
Ken G
13 May 2011I’m planning a couple of Death Marches, if the water ever comes down.
It will be worth it. At least for me. Remember, no whining. Whiners get left behind.
🙂
bob long jr
14 May 2011Death marches are OK with me. If the rivers ever come down, I intend to wade down the Fox with you. That is why I carry my wading staff. Three legs is, am, be better than two, and my original third leg ain’t as stiff as it once was.
But it’s as good once as it ever was. Heeeeeyyy! 🙂
Ken G
15 May 2011Once, if, the water ever comes down, I’ll let you know.
That thing about the third leg was too much information.
Better living through chemistry. 🙂
Dan
16 May 2011I know a guy from the South Side that might want to join you “OLD” fellers on this Death March!
btw; I was not referring to Cory as old btw… 😉
Ken G
16 May 2011Patience, patience. I’ll let you know when the timing is right. I need you along to catch ass fish.