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.