Winter walk

It was fairly cold today, but sunny and not windy. We walked to the dam first, to throw some rocks. They were a blur of motion finding and throwing rocks. Scout’s bowels, stimulated as they always are by being somewhere strange, kicked into overdrive and she marked the area several times. Then back to the car for a snack of beef jerky and dehydrated apples and off on a long walk.

We were just headed up the trail when we saw a big group of geese way up in the air, headed right for us. They dropped and dropped, rocking back and forth, making a lot of wing noise. They started swinging upriver, then swung a hard left hand loop and hit the water right in front of us. The half-white goose we watched all summer was in with the group. I fumbled for the camera, but it happened so fast. We saw lots of mushrooms, ducks and geese, and smelled that fall leaf-smell, and heard the dry leaves hissing over our heads the whole way.

Nick walked as far as he ever has, far enough to need me to carry him most of the way back to the truck.

Daddy, can we go throw some rocks?

Sure, get in the truck!

Sometimes the trips are short...

The boys wanted to kayak and fish Sunday morning, so I loaded up and undertook the long paddle upriver. Its about 1.5 miles to the “special spot” as Drew calls it- just below the Hug Monster Bridge.

The way up- shirt on

There was a lot to see on the way up. One of the local Great Blue Herons has become very brave, and let us pass within 20 feet. The boys were impressed with how big he looked from so close. The river was covered with leaves- the first time it’s looked like this. As much a result of the extraordinarily dry weather than fall approaching. Fish were everywhere, very visible. The boys pointed them out as I paddled.

After the hour or so it took to paddle up, Drew stood up in the kayak and immediately fell in the water. It was less than a foot deep where we sat, so he just popped right back in. But it scared him, he was not happy. And it was pretty cool. Not cold, but nothing like it was two weeks ago. It was very warm out, so I told him to take off his shirt so he could dry off. He did, and he warmed up quickly in the hot sun. But it scared him enough that he had no interest in fishing. He just wanted to sit and nibble on snacks- which was fine with his brother.

So I got to fish a bit, and the boys enjoyed watching the fish fight- and of course they had to touch each one and ask the same questions every time. “Can I touch it?” (yes) “Does it have teeth?” (yes, but they are very small) “Can I throw it back?” (sure)

We got our money’s worth out of the kayak this summer, that is for sure.

The paddle back- shirtless and bashful.

Biggest smallmouth bass I've caught on the Patapsco

Played hooky this morning- it was just too nice out to drive to work. I was on the water at 6:00, and paddled about 1.5 miles upriver to where the kids and I have done well. I snuck as quietly as I could up to a stump below a cool tributary where some bigger fish hang out. I launched a big tube up against the stump, and right away a fish thumped it. I set the hook- and---- nothing.

Drat!

I tried again, a fish took again. I set the hook and this time managed to sink it in an 11" fish. This was the biggest fish I've caught so far this year on the river. Not bad, but I'd seen a good 15 inch fish there the day before while biking, so I was a bit disappointed. More casts led to nothing. Oh well, you win some you lose some.

I decided to keep going upriver just to explore. I'd never been past this spot on the water. I blasted through 3 or 4 pretty nice holes, but only saw 12 inch fish and big suckers. It's very clear, and though the river is 50-80 feet wide, it's only about 15 feet wide in the deep spots- which are no more than 5' deep. I can see pretty much everything.

I keep going through skinnier and skinnier water, in some places slipping through boulders in seams that barely fit the boat. It's really not looking promising, but I keep going. Then I see a big log in the water in a rocky area at a bend. Hmmm... Looks fairly deep- at least 3 feet or so. So I throw a nose-hooked smoke with purple flake 3" stick-o to the head of the hole. Almost immediately, there is a take. I set the hook, and it feels decent. I bring the line tight, then grab the paddle to stay out of the bottom part of the log that the stream is pushing me into. The fish comes to the surface and boils, and WHOA!!! that is a BIG fish. I don't really believe my eyes, and right away I realize that there is no way I'm going to land this. I'm being pushed into a big snag, and as the fish is upcurrent of me I'm pulling it right into the snag- where it will easily wrap me up and pull off the 6 lb braid and tiny size 6 hook.

I crazily alternate between reeling and paddling with my left hand to keep the boat out of the wood. The fish for reasons I do not understand is fighting more or less straight upcurrent from me, so it's fighting both the current and my ultra-ultra light 6' Lamiglas. Twice it goes all the way under the snag on downstream runs, and I have to fend off the wood with one foot while holding the rod underwater to keep the line clear. Both times the fish runs back upriver and clears itself. The fish never jumps, but it boils several times giving me good looks at it and keeping my adrenalin pumping. After what feels like 5 minutes of "this fish is going to break off any second" I am in total disbelief when I see that I've worn the fish down, and that I'm gaining control of it. I very quickly get it on the surface and keep it there, drop my hand down and lip it. I really can not believe what I'm holding. I put it to the ruler on the side of the boat- it's a solid 17" fish- in great shape and with awesome color. I've never seen a fish anything like this in this river.

I have the camera handy, and quickly take a few shots. I'm relieved when she swims off strongly, right under a big rock in the deepest part of the hole.

I've caught bigger fish, but none that I felt like I'd earned quite as much as I did this one. What a great way to start the weekend!!

Summer slowdown

Summer is slowing down. It’s dark when I get out of bed at 5:30 each morning, and the black locust trees have their first brown leaves.

We spent the weekend on the river. First was a long paddle upriver for a bit of fishing. Drew is really starting to enjoy fishing, and I have to admit that he’s really got the hang of casting and reeling in fish. It seems to be all he talks about. Nick isn’t quite as enamored of it yet, but neither was Drew at 2.

Sunday we went for a long walk despite the threat of rain. Or should I say a long push- since they wanted to just sit in the double stroller and be pushed the whole way. “Faster daddy, faster.” Yeah, that was fun last year when their combined weight was 15 lbs less…

This was a trip down memory lane, since we don’t walk down Alberton Road much since we’ve moved. I was surprised that Drew remembered where Lunch Rock was. He ran right down, and of course went right into the water looking for crayfish bugs and snails. “Look, a fish!” We had the river to ourselves. Why is everyone afraid of rain? When it’s warm outside, walking in all but the heaviest rain is fun. The boys certainly don’t mind.

River Smallmouth Bass

Saturday was a watershed fishing day for my oldest son Drew. I took the boys on our usual weekend paddle with our neighbors. Since we had all morning to kill, I grabbed all our fishing gear including the 3" watermelon Stick-O's I picked up from BPS on my way home Friday. I had seen how well the home made version of these worked while fishing by myself last Thursday.

We didn't spend much time casting until we had paddled a mile or so upstream, which got us away from 90% of the fishing activity near the parking area. We set up on a deep and rocky run on the shady side of the Patapsco, and I tied a size 4 Gamakatsu circle hook to my sons line, then nose hooked a 3" Stik-O. I told him what Jeff had told me- cast it and leave it alone.

Drew sent the lure towards the shore, and then he and I watched the line. We did not wait long... The line started running sideways, and I told Drew he had a fish. He started reeling, and the circle hook worked it's magic as the line came tight. FISH ON!



We did this over and over and over for the next two hours. Drew did it all, the casting, the leaving-alone, and the reeling in. All I did was release the fish and put on a new Stik-O. Nearly every cast that landed near our honey hole resulted in either a bite or a landed fish. The fish were mostly 7-10" smallies, with a few big redbreast sunfish mixed in.



The tiny hand in this shot is Drew's little brother Nick, who sat between us casting his hookless bobber while Drew fished. I think he had as good a time just watching as Drew did catching the fish.

Our neighbor Renee celebrated her "27th" birthday on Saturday, and caught her first fish ever. After she and her husband Jonathan and son Mat watched us catch a bunch of fish, they paddled over and I hooked them up with our magic 3" worms. They did the trick.

Drew was beside himself, and he cried when I told him we had to stop fishing and go home. It was all he talked about for the rest of the weekend, and he is begging and begging to go back.



Drew is hooked, and we can't wait to get back out there tonight.

Summertime

Summer is great.

Fishing from the kayak.

Swimming in our pool.

Lounging on the hammock.

Fresh veggies from the garden.

Catching toads.

Going to Camden Yards.

What is not to love about summer on the Patapsco?

Yaki-saki Bridge

We approach Yaki-saki Bridge slowly, quietly. Anticipation. Once inside, Daddy always goes first, cutting loose with a loud "Yaki-saki!" Drew and Nick chime in, and the echoes bounce around and around in a lunatic chorus. It's awesome.






They look ready, no?




The carp were spawning today. Drew spotted a big one and I was lucky enough to have the camera in hand.



It was THIS BIG! And it might have been- a man was walking to the car with a 25 lb carp as we were launching the boat.

Tonight Mommy is going to come out with us. Big fun on the little Patapsco!

Tadpoles

Took a long walk along Alberton Road Saturday morning. I expected a crowd, and was shocked to find the parking lot empty. The river was very high, perhaps keeping the fishermen at home. But the road was dry, and we walked a long way. The rock spots were covered with water, unfortunately, so throwing rocks was not possible. Instead we ate snacks upon snacks, and we did some stomping through the woods and we played with tiny, tiny tadpoles in the puddles. I am still kicking myself for not bringing the camera...

Something about tadpoles brings kids right to their knees. My boys stared at a wriggling puddle for 15 minutes, getting thoroughly dirty and enjoying themselves immensely.

Geocachers

You can spot them a mile away. Mostly two or thee in a group. They will be walking head-down, staring at a global positioning receiver (GPS). Stop, look at GPS, walk. Stop, look at GPS, walk, stop, push a button on GPS, stare at it for a while. Refer to a map. It’s the latest craze. I don’t get it.

I tried. There are several geocaches along the river. One is on the cliff not far from the Dogwood Rd. parking area.

I got the coordinates on-line, hiked to the spot with my trusty GPS, and easily found the canister under a rock. I took out the single sheet of white notebook paper, signed “PatapscoMike” with the date below the previous name. Then I walked back to my car, unfulfilled. I could have been fishing or wandering aimlessly. The last thing I want to do when I have free time is have to go look for something someone else has tried to hide from me. The whole idea of Geocaching seems to be that you give the GPS coordinates to a spot, but then you try to make the actual cache hard to locate within the 20 feet or so accuracy of a GPS receiver. WTF is that? I spend enough time looking for things in my house- why make it a hobby too?

Maybe it's just me, but geocaching reminds me of Mark Twain’s famous quote about golf- "a good walk, spoiled."

Maybe one day I’ll get into it, but I doubt it. If you think it’s for you, go to www.geocaching.com and read all about it. Maybe one day I'll see you down at the river. You won't see me though, you'll be staring at your GPS...

The Dam

To the boys, there are several rivers. There is "Train River" where the big trains rumble past. "Swimming River" is self-explanatory. The trail that hikes up the Howard County side of Daniels Dam impoundment is "Bridge River, Goose River, or Trail River," depending. When I ask where we should go, Drew names one of those rivers. All of them are of course the Patapsco, and all of those spots are within a mile of each other. But I'm not sure he realizes that it's the same river.

Then there is "The Dam." Daniels Dam, where the river runs over the dam with such force that both boys stare at it every time they hit the water and look up. When Drew stopped wearing diapers, we noticed that this sight and sound was enough to make him immediately pee his pants every time. The boys love the dam. It's loud, wet, always has a few fishermen, herons, geese, or something going on to look at. And there is an unlimited supply of small rocks. It's perfect.

We walked down to the dam yesterday. Nick was still scared from a recent tumble into a pond, so he hung back and sat with me on a log. Drew threw rocks for the better part of an hour, only stopping to get a piece of Easter candy now and then. Two fishermen were steadily catching trout as we watched. It was windy and raw, and the water was cold. Neither boy complained when I said it was time to walk back up the hill to the warmth of our fireplace. Of course, they knew we were going to roast marshmallows...

Down the Hill

Diapers, check. Wipes, check. Snacks, check.

OK boys, into the stroller!

Down the hill we went. Left onto the gravel road, and out spilled the boys to scramble for rocks. Four rocks in four hands, eager eyes looked for targets. That log. Big tree. Rock. Water!

Walk. Stop. Throw rocks. Repeat. Endless supplies of rocks and energy.

Perfect weather. We made it as far as the old bridge abutments, where we stopped for mineral water, dehydrated bananas and apples. Nick wasn't interested in the food, instead throwing sticks to an odd couple of one Canada and one domestic goose. They tested each stick in case one might be bread. Poor luck for them.

Paddlers were out today, and dog walkers. I met a neighbor and his 7 month old. We poked into the Camel's Den, looking for "big owl."

The boys just dropped off to sleep, exhausted. Dreaming no doubt of the flowing water and splash of rocks.

Spring

The spring peepers are out in force, the daffodils are up, and it's time to begin taking the boys down to the river more regularly. It was a cold February and March, and I only made it to the river for brief runs that go by too fast. Soon, soon...

Lunch Rock

Above my old house about ½ mile is a rock that reaches 2/3 of the way across the river. We’ve always called it Lunch Rock, though we’ve only eaten lunch there once.

I’ve seen drunk teenagers tumble off it, pretty girls sitting strumming guitars and singing Bob Marley tunes, dogs leaping off to chase sticks, and many many Northern Watersnakes resting quietly in the shade. It's the only spot I can't ever attain past in my kayak heading upriver.

I’ve held my boys fingers as they lurch over the uneven surface. I’m sure many an Indian child was guided across this rock in the same way 500 years ago. We always take off our shoes and sit with feet in the water, feeling the powerful current and sometimes having black nose dace nibble our toes.

My oldest son knows the spot so well that when it's just barely in sight, he takes off running for the small path down to the water. We must, must stop and throw rocks. Long live Lunch Rock.

The Railroad- The Old Main Line

Spend time along the Patapsco river, and one constant will always be the railroad. The stretch of the "Old Main Line" carries coal from Western MD to Baltimore, and all kinds of freight from the port of Baltimore to points west. Near Daniels, visitors hear the train blow the "crossing whistle" at the Old Frederick Road crossing. According to this website, this gateless crossing is the oldest surviving railroad grade crossing in the world. This dates back to 1830, when the first railroads were snaking their way across the east.

To a river wanderer, the railroad tracks are sometimes the fastest way to get from point A to point B. The tracks provide rocks for my kids to throw, big sunny clearings for the wineberry and blackberry patches, shade under the bridges for sunny summer picnics, and a source for railroad spikes for home or garden projects (discarded spikes and metal debris litter the railroad bed). To a large degree, the reason the river valley is so nice and undeveloped is because the railroad companies have owned all the land along one side since the 1800's.

Three summers ago I was fishing in the river as a train chugged past. I heard the trains brakes, and it went slower, slower, slower and came to a complete stop. It sat that way for something like 15 minutes when I saw the conductor come walking down the tracks looking at each car. A few minutes later he came walking back up, and perhaps 15 minutes later the train slowly picked up speed and left. OK, that was an extraordinarily boring story, but I have always wondered what that was all about.