Summer.
And the endless rains of late winter and early spring have, like the dawn dew, largely evaporated, replaced by a relentless heat that builds with a stifling, torch-like crescendo throughout June and July until it presses as an anvil across the Commonwealth through a bleary, humid, sodden August.
Summer.
And the hazel days of June slowly warm the creeks, ponds, streams, rivers and lakes that drain and dot the landscape. Catfish, their biological movement triggered by the sun-warmed waters and mysteries of the natural world, turn their attention to the propagation of the species. Bluegill, too, return to their spawning beds after their initial seasonal reproductive frenzy that was likely triggered by the May full moon. Bass, recovering from the rigors of reproduction, begin to move toward their summertime deep-water lairs. Bass men, many piloting gaudily colored boats powered by triple horsepower engines, follow the fish with electronic, underwater eyes. Whether the high-tech tools directly relate to increased fishing success is debatable.
Summer.
And the unbridled joy of fishing returns to anglers of all ages, as manifested in a creek or stream. Here, the fishing is as simple and unencumbered as the season that propels it. Step into the creek. The initial sensation is always startlingly brisk, fresh and cool. This is Fishing 101: simple tools (spinning or fly rod; handful of lures or flies); simple approach: probe the pools, riffles and runs, and cast and retrieve. Surprises await. Sunfish. Bass. Catfish. An occasional trout. (They are stocked in a surprising number of waters.)
Summer.
Following directions we got at the One Stop Market, my friend Lee and I wind our way along a patchwork of blacktop roads badly in want of repair. Potholes jar my Ford to its frame. The county road crews have been busy, but this is probably not a priority stretch of highway. Two more turns and the road becomes gravel and ends at an unlocked gate. The place roughly matches the grocery store directions. We assume the flash of silver visible through the trees is a feeder creek to the upper Gasper River, which flows 38.6 miles through Warren and Logan counties draining a slice of land owned by the friend of a friend who secured permission to fish the creek. It’s one of the few things summers are really good for: wet wading a cool creek. We’re probably at the right spot. We also could be trespassing.
Clad in canvas tennis shoes, swimming trunks, a faded T-shirt two sizes too large and a floppy, large-brimmed bucket hat chosen because it will guard equally against the glaring sun and errant hooks, my fishing partner steps into a surprisingly cool creek, crosses a gravel bar and sloshes knee-deep to the head of a pool, where a sidearm cast drops a white, 1/8-ounce curly tail grub across the pool and it vanishes. I start downstream, then stop to watch. He follows the line with his rod tip, waiting for a hesitation indicating that a smallmouth bass has inhaled the lure. It doesn’t happen.
He wades to his waist and makes another cast. Another.
Then another. Nothing.
A water snake about the size of the neck on a wine bottle surfaces in the pool and swims effortlessly upstream. At that instant, the line stops. My friend sets the hook. The line furiously zigzags. The water boils, but the fish doesn’t jump. Probably not a smallmouth, I reason without cause. The fish plunges for deep water, then bolts toward a gravel spit on the opposite bank and again boils the surface. Might be a smallmouth, I think. The fight is spirited, but the fish tires quickly. Holding the rod high and reeling smoothly, my friend brings the fish within arm’s reach. Then as quickly as it struck, it is gone. The rod tip springs free. The line drifts lazily downstream. It suddenly seems oppressively hot. There is no breeze. No cloud cover. The snake is forgotten.
Only in summer.
Kentucky is rife with flowing water. The Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources lists more than 100 smallmouth streams and 60 trout waters on its website. Many of the state’s creeks and streams flow through private property. You’ll need permission and, unless exempt, a fishing license.
Find out more at fw.ky.gov/Fish/Pages/Find-a-Place-to-Fish.aspx.
Summer won’t last forever.
Readers may contact Gary Garth at editor@kentuckymonthly.com