Along the Stream

Hello, I'm Bill Crisp, just an old soldier and retired Big Woods Warden, who has been watching over Cameron, Clinton and Elk County for over two decades. This site is a collection of pictures, jokes, and stories from my column in the Cameron County Echo over that time. Hope you enjoy and thanks for visiting.

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Not so random pic of one of my fishing partners on our favorite stream.


LATEST STORIES UNDER THE TAP 5 May

  • Mark of the "Chin-chilli"

  • From Chin-Chilli Spirit

One of the Road Nomads from the story "Road Nomads"

Hippie Tactical


The Paradox Privilege


“Waters haunt me.” Norman Maclean

The sun keeps hanging in the sky longer, eroding ice and swelling tree buds. It is early but seasons are changing. The last of the oak leaves are long fallen with the surviving bucks’ antlers and ice is starting to lose its long-held grip. With the return of birds and warmth, return thoughts of the stream and throwing lines. Plans are springing up everywhere. I stop on the ridge while coyote hunting and look over the deep cold valleys. Now, instead of anticipating a ‘yote or the antler tips of a chasing buck gleaming above the brush. Thoughts lead to dropping down into that soon to be hazy lush hollow armed with an eight-foot rod and size ten hooks. The long, pure, ever moving, ever invisible and ever alive flow will no longer be an obstacle but a destination. Then, I shake my head and slap myself. I’ll be fishing but most likely on a lake for bigger fish.

Sure, I’ll go after some trout, there is something about being alone along the stream chasing the speckled fish’s dance but really only as a way to get bait, maybe some mushrooms and to have a reason to camp and a place to fry eggs in bacon grease. The fish I dream of are wild and like to eat speckled fish. Pike, walleye, and musky love trout. The medium I love which holds them is diverse. Its favored location to me is interchangeable with the mountain stream and the open blue waters. While I’m driven to seek water of any shape and speed; the fish I prefer lay deep and eat heartily. Those fish and the deeps they inhabit are both pure and saline. I fish for what has been untouched yet as a channel to touch old, revisited memories.

So, with the weather warming, it turns time to watch a sunrise over a flat horizon, feel the wind generated off waves, and be mesmerized by long rounded stones painted by dancing shadows. Eventually, I’ll also return home to drop into the moss-covered banks and drift a fly into a dark pool, if anything to hear the splash of a tail breaking the tune of the endless gurgling ballad of a brook. Wrapped in those moments, my mind will wander to visit the fishing memories of the past. A young father holding me on a rickety dock so that I can cast a bobber laden nightcrawler. My young senses honed to an edge by tales of a great fish that will take whole ducks. An older man showing me secret springs. An uncle and his minnows. The laugh of brothers and friends along the banks in the midst of new, to us, adventures.

There are also be the memories of streams dying, the snarl of a poacher taking what he doesn’t need, the arguments to not abuse the resource and the hours, days, months, and years working, watching, and worrying about those that consider the blue line as a nuisance, a selfish opportunity or a place to put their refuse. Like death at one’s hand, the negative impact on a stream is close and personal, akin to watching the gleam go out in a set of eyes. There are ghosts on the big water too but they seem more distant, more easily overcome than the memory of the scars left along the stream. My paradox of preferences is a privilage.

Regardless, soon, the draw will be irresistible and we will return to the waters casting out for whatever we as individuals seem to need; a prize of our own design, ever so fleeting.

See you along the stream

FLORIDA

Perfect Misery

I started my fishing season off early this year. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. In order to escape the winter, PA pre-season blues, the fishing was destination trip to the “Big O” lake Okeechobee Florida and the river below it the Caloosahatchee River. The plan was to fish out in the Gulf as well but was told that trip wasn’t going to happen until either I could spell Caloosahatchee or Okeechobee or the wind died down; which ever came first. It was only a week trip; so…

My guide down there was a relative. He did it mostly because he lost a bet or because I’m the type of angler only a relative could guide or a little of both. My goal was targeting snook, mayan cichlids, bass, and sea trout. Frankly, though, whatever hits the line it just fine. I even disgusted the locals for repeatedly trying to catch gar under a light on one late night snook run. My guide’s goal was to keep me from getting sun poisoning and to catch bass. Thus, I spent the trip soaked in 50 sunblock under big hats and casting artificial lures into a foot and a half of water. The cool thing about that is being so close to the hordes of alligators. Because of the predators the bass down there snug up in the thickest, overhanging cover in the thinnest water you can find. It is something to hook into a five pound plus largemouth under a small ledge in a couple inches of water. At least it looked fun when other guys did it. I mostly spent my time saying, “Crap, I’m snagged…again…help.” Good thing there are snag proof rigs, it is unknown how many more times I would have caught brush, rocks, yards and, allegedly passing cruise ships (that one was their captains’ fault) if I had a snag prone lure.

I did manage to get into some fish though, which is a testament to how many fish are down there. At times the water would just start boiling around us with hundreds of fish surfacing. They weren’t interested in snag proof lures though. Someone said they must be mullet, which apparently is a fish with a bad haircut. There were other fish in there that cut lures in half and snapped or cut twenty-pound braided line.

I did not get a bite from my spirit animal, the mayan chinchilla, who drew blood on me and possibly stole my social security number last year. Water temperatures were colder than normal which it was theorized that drove those tropical fish out further towards the too windy to fish ocean. As the classic, “you should have been here last week” fishing guy/victim not much is expected. However, this year, they said the previous week was slow too. It probably stayed slow because I was down there; no doubt they are slaying fish in record numbers this week, now that I’m back in Pennsylvania.

My guide informed me that my casting could use some improvements. Some world class casting was executed but would admit that my retrievals needed some work. I suggested he guide where fish like bad casts… I missed a lot of fish which is disturbing when fishing for bass. It’s not like they are tender biters. Maybe it was another symptom of the slow week but the bass were not slamming the lures as bass tend to do. Rather they sucked in the tail of the lures when they were given slack on and allowed to sink to the bottom. Using large sanko lures with snag free hook set ups made for a difficult time feeling the bite on the sink side then setting the hook when you did feel the bite.

I definitely feel like my fishing muscles are out of shape and have a lot of work to do to tune them back up. After a week straight of fishing every day, for most of the day, I’m a bit sore albeit, being stubborn, still not much better at fishing. There is a upside though, my guide said not to worry, I will probably really enjoy fishing once I learn how to do it. He’s a funny guy.

The joke will be on him soon though. I am taking him walleye fishing at one of the great northern spawn runs in April. We’ll see how he does, no casting at all, instead having to deftly drop his line over the side to present a perfect vertical jig. All the while instead of worrying about sunburn in eighty-four degrees he’ll have to contend with cold drizzles and nearly freezing temperatures. Who needs comfort? Real fishing needs to be a perfect misery. The fishing exercise machine is patent pending.

See you along the stream.

Fishleggers: Wanted, Dead or Alive


I once dragged my family on an overnight, twenty hour drive straight North. The geographically familiar could safely place my destination as Canada, the home of great walleye fishing. We were winging it so after we made it through the tenuous border where our children were removed from the van and questioned while we provided their birth certificates, we got our kids back and explained to them why that process was important. Then we tasked ourselves with finding a final destination. My navigator slash bride pointed to a big blue spot in the middle of a lot of blue spots situated just below the Artic circle. “This is it!”, she exclaimed. Everything we were looking for; a park with camping on a big deep natural lake. A quick search revealed that the lake was thousands of years old and a thousand feet deep; fed by springs and probably formed from a huge asteroid crash. I hit the gas and stayed on it.

Upon reaching the lake and setting up camp, I found a local official and asked what the walleye were biting on and how deep only be told that there were no walleye in the lake! I said, “I thought in Canada walleye grew in roadside ditches.” To which the gentleman informed me, “They do but not in this lake. This lake has bluegill and bass though.” (Turns out the lake had a touch of aluminum in it). Who drives twenty hours to fish for what he can catch in any pond within yards of his home? This guy does.

Since then, I’ve been scanning a ham radio tucked away in my basement, listening for mention of walleye in places they don’t belong. I looked to China because we seem to get so many invasive species here that originate in the far orient and they do so well. Surely, there had to be a place, maybe over there where a western species infiltrated the waterways and began to thrive in that new home? When it happened, I swore I would be there. Alas, news finally came of invasive walleye but not in the East; in the West! Maybe all species do better moving west not east; there’s something to ponder.

Apparently, the appearance of delicious, beautiful walleye who coexist with trout all over North America has not been a happy occurrence. There have been shots fired in Idaho and Montana where those ever so sneaky wonder eyed perch have worked their way into waterways where they are, allegedly, not native and the biologists don’t like it. Specifically, in Idaho, the Pend Oreille system has been infected with walleye to the point where the state has created a cash lottery for their heads! They’ve caught and injected certain walleye with a chip. Then they, ahem, re-stocked them. Anglers who catch them later turn in the heads of all walleye they catch and the heads that have a chip get entered into a lottery; lucky anglers win cash! This dramatic response to a non-native perch is in order to protect the rainbow and cut-throat trout as well as kokanee salmon and bull trout populations in the watershed.

What is fantastic about this trip, is that one can fish for ‘eyes, for money and make fun of biologists while you collect money from them! You see rainbow trout, cut throat trout and kokanee salmon are not native to the Pen Oreille watershed either! Bull trout are native and threatened but they fell to that threatened status long before walleye showed up, scientifically speaking the introduction of the other trout to their niche’ didn’t help matters. As usual, while biologists justify policy based on native species, they ignore that policy for other invasive non-native species. This maybe another sign that science has migrated out of biology and has been replaced with invasive activism. That is harsh but it is as true as the principal of homeostasis. Hey, they want to pay to fish for walleye heads, I’ll fish for walleye heads but I’ll gladly debate activist biologists for free.

The other lucky state to not enjoy a perfectly enjoyable invasive walleye incursion is Montana. Even though the war on walleye has already commenced; Montana is still studying whether or not walleyes are native to the state. A shoot first, study later policy is always a solid way to go… Recently, Montana’s fish and wildlife agency announced that there is no evidence yet that they are native but continues researching the topic (which means they probably are native). I’m pretty sure that among walleye crimes it is listed that they don’t respect the Canadian or Dakota territory political boundaries. Montana is not paying anglers for fish heads. However, it is a steep penalty to stock walleye in Montana along with rewards for up to $30,000.00 for turning in a “walleye stocker”. At Swan Lake there is a kill order on all ‘eyes. Any walleye caught is to be killed and turned in. Again, there is a concern that the walleye will impede the kokanee salmon and bull trout populations. Conversely, kokanee salmon are definitely not native to Montana and no study is needed to prove it. It is well known that the first kokanee was introduced to Montana waters at Flathead lake in 1914. Is it just me or is anyone else seeing a pattern of preferences over science being excused as science or a flare for faux drama?

I have nothing against salmon or trout. I don’t even have a problem with favoring one fish over another. I just feel that substituting the subjective for science is the core enemy of the craft. Unbelievably, in Montana and Idaho one of the reasons the native bull trout is threatened is because there had been a kill order placed on them by biologists to make room for other, invasive, sport species! Now, you must release all bull trout; their native status is important again. There is also a war on invasive lake trout in some of these western lakes as well, so not all trout are okay, just certain, other, invasive ones. I am kind of enjoying this little debate and the expansion of my personal favorite fish and how it’ll end I do not know. I do know that Mother Nature doesn’t care if bucket biologists’ personal preferences can articulate a story that sounds scientific. In the end, she always wins.

See you along the stream


A Lure Tour


With fishing season looming (mine starts earlier than the trout opener) it is time to stock up on new fishing supplies. Unfortunately, due to some vile curse placed upon me years ago; I have very few vices. However, because of persistence and probably some weird, born that way, biological imprint; I am addicted to fishing lures; so at least I’ve got that going for me. I have to strike while the ground is still cold. Now is the time to engage in my destructive habit; I’m still hoping to meet an enabler but, for now, have to buy lures alone.

This year, I found a new dealer on the corner of the internet pushing fresh lures. I got a free sticker with my first purchase and now I’m hooked. Realizing that spring is close-the groundhog predicted a short winter and with a fifty percent accuracy rate, is the most accurate meteorologist in the world! So, I hawked my space heater to be able to step up purchases. My first choice for go to lures are for walleye fishing and I’ve got some river dancing to do come early spring for spawning ‘eyes. Going down the list of options on the internet can be confusing. When I shop in the store, by looking at the product, I can tell what it is used for and how or at least am able to ask someone wearing a name tag. On the internet where the main way to tell what the product is used for is by verbiage, it can be a confusing world. I have been able to decipher and decode much of this e-slang, fishing language (even though they use ever-confusing English). To save you time, I’ve invested mine to decipher the descriptions into the call of the lure hunter. Here are some examples:

First off there are many categories to syphon through just to get confused by more specific options. For some reason they aren’t even in alphabetical order. Reels: Everyone knows what a fishing reel is, even if there are fake ones that aren’t real. Easy enough, but then you hit the tab and apparently you can build reels. There are ice fishing reels, fly reels, spinning reels, bait caster reels (even though they all are, ostensibly, for casting bait) tight line, loose line, and left handed. My favorite, I’d call the reel of hypocrisy is the “adjustable, tension-free spool” reel (that one must be for politicians). The “Tight Line Pro Too” is advertised exactly as the name suggests. Except there’s only one not two or too.

Then there are the rods and rod combos and rod building sections. Rod building is a fun past time and a hobby unto itself. I’d try it if I wasn’t already distracted by the lure building section. I like lures better than rods. There are casting and spinning rods. I always spin after I cast so maybe that’s been my problem. There’s the “ambition rod”; ambitious fishing is a good thing if you can manage it. I’ve noticed that the ambitious don’t get enough fishing in. In the rod building part, there are tons of different gizmos like “foot snakes” (not a snake) and the recoil single foot guide (no foot but guide is a good word that gives me a picture).

There’s a terminal tackle section. Which as a guy who can’t get enough lures made me nervous. Turns out that it is your weights, bobbers (strike indicators for fly fishermen), swivels, snaps, jig spinners, leader connectors and bait holders (“hooks” for bait guys morphing into an in between stage to fly fishing).

Lure building is my favorite tab. I can get “one hundred count beads”, “folded clevis gold #2” and “silver streak #5 Colorando’s” and my significant bride sees the invoice and assumes I bought her jewelry for her birthday! Well, maybe yours will but mine knows better. She does enjoy a good birthday lure though.

The hard baits section is much different than the soft baits section. Don’t let that bit of accuracy fool you though. Hard baits are not jigs, even though they are hard. Those are lures that look like minnows but are hard. You can attach a soft bait to a hard bait and a jig is a hard lead or tungsten device that looks like a painted sinker with a hook out of it. Not all jigs are created equally though. There are sickle hooks, stand up jigs, banana jigs, mantis jigs, boogies ball jigs, and many others with different colors and color combinations that are endless. Fish are very finicky but not as finicky as you have to be when picking fishing lure birthday presents for humans.

Wait a minute. Looking behind the aquamarine looking glass into this website and seeing the evidence; it uses poor English, it is finicky, has lots of choices and colors, nothing is in alphabetical order, most of the stuff doesn’t work…Something off about the currency exchange, “send $50.00 USD, 100 worms or 50 minnows”. Everyone knows that 50 minnows don’t add up to 100 worms; that exchange rate isn’t right... I suspect that the site may be a front run by walleye or a musky cartel. I’m going to have to dry off the next batch of lures, pull off the weeds and look for bite marks.

See you along the stream.

The Lessons of Lynyrd Synynrd (From 2014)

Being a country boy, I have received an education from many diverse sources. Surprisingly enough I’ve managed to receive and attain some socially acceptable and certified forms of education and those have been helpful but not my most valuable lessons. I have learned lessons classically and in very unorthodox ways from a variety of types of teachers. Despite that, in my quest for knowledge, it may seem strange but I probably learned everything I needed to know just from listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd. Skynyrd was the anthem band for wild eyed country boys when I was growing up and is still for many today even though most of the original band members have passed away long ago.

No one can deny that the greatest southern rock band and one of the greatest rock bands ever covered all topics. Yes, they spent a lot of time singing about women and whiskey but tell me, how far will a man make it through life with a PhD if he knows nothing about women and whiskey? Even their name is a lesson in “How to Succeed 101”. Lynyrd Skynyrd was the name of teacher who told them that they would never amount to anything in life. When they became successful they named themselves after him to celebrate their perseverance and resulting success. They also reconciled with the teacher who became yet another fan which showed it doesn’t hurt to choose being classy.

Even though everyone that knows rock and roll knows about “Sweet Home Alabama” and “Free Bird” those two very popular songs were probably their least insightful. Deeper into their albums, Skynyrd taught timeless lessons in politics, religion, environmental issues, family, and social issues while being on the right side of history even when it wasn’t popular. “The Ballad of Curtis Loew” came at a time when it may not have been popular to celebrate a man of a different color and taught us that everyone had value and that there is beauty where it isn’t obvious while saying outright that those that don’t see it are fools.

The song “Simple Man” spells how to succeed in life all right out, literally, for you. If you know the lyrics of “Simple Man” and follow them there’s not much else one needs. Conversely, “That Smell” and “The Needle and Spoon” plainly tells a person where they will go off the rails.

Skynyrd has a slew of songs about friends and family, not coincidently, in a large ratio to how they should be important to anyone’s life. Relationships are as complicated as the topics covered in these songs. “Am I Losing” warns of the possible dangers in friendships. The band’s take on love and relationships does run the gamut of emotion but in each song, there is a nugget of help for the realities of love. If you really want to stay tuned into not being caught off guard in a relationship, the painful but beautiful, “Every Mother’s Son” should cover it for anyone who is the son of a mother. While, “I Never Dreamed” covers what the risks of love are for.

Some people may say the band was “anti-gun” due to the song “Saturday Night Special” but they aren’t listening to the band or the song as they have many a song that makes it clear that gun ownership is a right and they had clarified that in conversations other than song. The song “Gimme Back My Bullets” and “Mississippi Kid” show deference for the citizen to protect and even avenge himself.

“The Four Walls of Raiford”, “Mr. Banker”, “Cry for the Bad Man” and “Was I Right or Wrong?” Each teaches listeners that life isn’t fair, at all. They also explain that some things are worth dying for and about courage and perseverance as well as perspective. While the song “Things Going On” accurately predicted the problems we now face would happen and explains why. If our Ivy league educated leaders had only listened to some simple southern boys, the United States would probably be in a lot better shape because the song accurately tells them what they do, what they’ve done and what it’ll lead to. On everything from the criminal justice system to federal spending; the Southern Boys were right and the “elites” have been wrong. Is it too late to fix it? Dealing with these people and what they think is nailed in “I’m A Country Boy”. They predicted a resounding “no” to that question and even though people don’t know it…that is also covered in “Sweet Home Alabama”.

As a guy that has travelled a lot in my life, far from home on assignment, Skynyrd covers the best attitude to have on the road and manages to teach how to keep perspective when you’re out. “Roll Gypsy Roll”, “Travelling Man” and “Coming Home” have been huge beacons in the night to me when I’ve been away. From the Middle East to South America as well as miles back and forth across the United States and at the same time, as a guy who has always been from nowhere and everywhere, Skynyrd always has helped me find where “home” is.

It hasn’t all been good. For me personally, I would have appreciated Skynyrd writing a song telling me not to drink a fifth of whiskey and jump off the high parts of a power line tower… or any moving pickup trucks or airplanes. Or they should have written one advising me not to try to win in a game of chicken with a farm tractor. A song advising me not to date “Susan Amwarth” and one saying not to invest in Adelphia would have been helpful but they didn’t. Maybe just a few tips on how to not screw up a chance at a 170 class buck would have been nice. However, they definitely wrote songs that helped me recover from my setbacks…

I think the sad irony of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s teaching is that you can be right but that doesn’t mean it will matter beyond how you handle yourself because the group thinkers will almost always go the wrong way. Most of their lessons include; this is how it is, this is how it got that way and it won’t change much. In one of the most poignant and beautiful songs ever written called “All I Can Do Is Write About It”, the band laments the future and the spread of urban sprawl (physically and culturally) and while the song warns that “you better listen to my song” it also states what is coming and how callous we will become towards the environment is inevitable. As we see yet another push for the development of our forests for consumptive and high erosion recreational use in the last bastion of anything close to “Wild” in Pennsylvania, the Southern boys give yet another lesson on the future, from the past. (P.S. They did mention not to name any real names of the people you’ve dated).

See you along the stream