Warmwater Season Advances in New Jersey
A brown trout the writer caught from Lake Hopatcong while trolling a submerged weedline on a chilly mid-May day five years ago.
Here’s the next former New Jersey Federated Sportsmen’s News article, published by The New Jersey State Federation of Sportsmen’s Clubs. On June 8th, my wife and I go visit my son in California, so that Monday, and the following Monday (15th) will see no posts from me. I do plan on posting June 1st. For now, an article about springtime fishing with some emphasis on late spring fishing in New Jersey.
Winter Doesn’t Really Go Straight Into Summer
I know it’s popular nowadays to say that once winter’s over, summer begins. I think of what happened last week—temperatures pushing against the upper 90’s. And the last few days in the lower and mid-50’s seem like a surreal drip from a Salvador Dali painting. On one April day years ago, I swam the North Branch Raritan. At 96 degrees it was hot enough to be July, but the water was frigid. I enjoyed swimming it, anyway. During summertime, however, you can always count on the river being bass warm. That April weather was a prime example of winter seemingly yielding almost immediately to summer, but I’ve never bought into the sentiment.
I like to think early spring begins before winter is officially over, the first signs of life just beginning to emerge after ice-out sometime around the beginning of March. Later, when the trees have become greener than brown, springtime’s second round begins around May 1st. That’s when largemouth bass begin spawning in many of our public and private waters, and the warmwater season gets underway for all freshwater gamefish species, lasting into October.
Still Hanging in the 50’s
So, this article comes a little later than I would have wanted to publish it, but really. Fifty-degree days late in May? My friend Gen Wong told me last weekend that we’re two weeks behind, and even with the hot weather, I don’t think we’ve caught up. No hurry, for the most part it’ll be warm enough.
Years ago, I wrote about early season northern pike. A friend I used work with, Brenden Kuprel, spoke about their presence in shallows near feeder streams. He suggested they stay there into May. That surprised me a little, but only because I think of them as turning tail and leaving such shallows while the water’s still really chilly. I’ve heard the same since then, so I’ve adopted the idea as probable. Maybe some of the pike stick around longer than I want to believe they do. Big crappie, on the other hand, I’ve known for many years they remain in May at spots occupied in the early season by pike. Brenden also reminded me that he had caught a big hybrid striper at such a spot in the same month, when he encountered more than the one of them.
A Medley of Species
Largemouths occupy May shallows regardless of stream flow nearby. Since the big females drop their eggs and leave it to the males to guard beds, I leave those males alone and begin catching bass bigger than three pounds, if I haven’t caught a few big ones during the early season. Smallmouths begin hitting anything that moves, and rainbow trout that have been in streams awhile begin to acclimate and take dry flies.
Although early May is sometimes too early to catch hybrid stripers on the troll, by the middle of the month, they slam plugs. Walleye do, too, and if you do go to Lake Hopatcong and troll before the water temp reaches the upper 50’s, if hybrids and walleyes don’t hit, then at least you can catch pickerel and maybe one or two of the rainbows and browns stocked. I know somebody who trolled the lake in May with his girlfriend. She hooked a huge musky on a Number 7 Rapala Floater.
The burgeoning possibilities of the initial warmwater season can make you feel the fishing’s easy, but May doesn’t always offer fast action, and the eventuality of tough fishing lends respect. Five years ago, I fished Hopatcong with Oliver Round later in the month, when you’d think fish would jump all over anything tossed their way, but it was a chilly, overcast morning. A deadly breeze made that chill feel clammy and uncomfortable. It was the sort of wind you feel belongs to April or March, not when you anticipate Memorial Day coming in a few days. If it were March, you’d feel hope, because 62 degrees is fairly mild. But when it’s almost time for kids to ride into the lake on that 20-foot slide you just cast your Senko under—that’s the deadly breeze and it often does mean tough fishing.
Persist
We persisted and began catching fish. Smallmouths and rock bass at first. The woody spots—docks, brushy overhangs, bulkheading—they all resulted in no more than taps from panfish. And largemouths did not cooperate, but rocks resulted in two smallmouths for me, fish weighing no more than a pound apiece that took my Senko as deliberately as they fought, which was hard.
We also caught a number of outsized “rockies” (rock bass), and a small hybrid striper of a pound-and-a-half Oliver hooked on a jig. We trolled the other side of a large cove, after persistently casting where sunlight would have fallen, and soon—when the sun did come out—I put a largemouth of a pound-and-a-half back into the lake, engaged the throttle and moments later hooked a drag-squealing hybrid of about two pounds. It measured 17 inches, and I took it home for my wife and I to enjoy at dinnertime. I caught a nice pickerel later on from the end of a dock, on a plastic worm I let drop towards the bottom 17 feet down, but I quickly released that fish.
Our success goes to show that if you keep at it, you might fill out the absence you begin with. That’s what success is—filling out an absence—and when it doesn’t come easily, it might better serve memory. All that effort in stoking experience so it grows larger than you feared it would, that makes a deep impression and stays on mental file.
Round Valley in May … Maybe June, Too
It’s been four years since I got over to Round Valley in early May with my wife, when the trees were still predominantly brown. After all, no rule exists that says our climate must accommodate greenery any date during the month of May. Even if the climate resembles the way North Carolina used to feel, it remains possible to feel amazed instead at how brown things can be. Despite that appearance making me think of the early season, the daytime high temperature had risen above 80. As evening came on, the temperature fell to the low 70’s, but the swimming pond’s water temperature had reached at least 60 and the surface was calm. You might think—perfect for a topwater plug.
Instead, given the brown feel, I threw a Senko. The first bass I set the hook into felt as if it weighed five pounds. The next moment, it was off the hook. By plumbing the depths with that fast-sinking worm rigged Wacky, I became aware of a considerable amount of residual vegetation and took a clue. I cast well out from shore and let that worm sink at least 12 feet down, where I knew the weeds would thin later in the spring and summer. Then I set the hook into a bass I measured at 16 ¾ inches, quickly released, along with another at 15 ¼. Six days later, my wife and I returned to a fully greened-out reservoir landscape, but though the afternoon high had reached about 70, I caught only one largemouth, on a Senko-type worm.
So those are a couple of unlikely sorts of outings I remember vividly and probably never will forget. Memories that sink in deep are investments. They help ensure a future of experience worth living. Get out and fish springtime’s Second Round before it soon becomes summer, and you might witness the birth of a new world. I think chances are pretty good you’ll create a memorable outing.