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Etching New Truths
The bite is often good in the middle of the day around full moons. Other productive times include dawn, when the moon is setting, and dusk, when the moon is rising.
All consistently successful anglers rely on established tenets when making decisions about where, when and how to fish. Like commandments etched in stone, these principles pass from mouth to ear in the fishing community. Wise fishermen accept the premises behind this secular "gospel", but blindly placing faith in some of the assertions is foolish.
My experience leads me to conclude that some of the most-widely accepted "truths" about fishing are not in fact truths at all; they are the products of self-perpetuating behaviors. I strongly disagree with at least three well-heeded rules on which many established experts base their decisions of when and how to target trout.
One commonly espoused mantra is that floating plugs are effective "early and late, under low light conditions, when winds are relatively calm." The idea that topwater lures only work well in such conditions is readily accepted by many trout fishermen, but I'm not one of them. I've often proved it's possible to tease trout into rising to the plugs when others won't try.
On many occasions, primarily during the warm months, when water temperatures exceed 80 F, I've been able to catch trout on topwaters all day. I start off virtually every day fishing with floating plugs from about April through October, assuming I can trigger some blow ups. Sometimes, the early morning topwater bite is poor, and I switch to other offerings for a while, but even on those days, I frequently switch back to the floaters and catch plenty of trout in the middle of the day, with the sun high overhead.
Since many of the best topwater sessions I've experienced occurred from mid-morning to mid-afternoon on bright, hot summer days, I believe that abundant sunlight has no negative effect on a topwater bite. Trout are naturally built to feed at the surface, and when they are in an aggressive feeding mood, floating plugs can be used to catch them, providing the appropriate plug is presented to them in an enticing manner.
In summer, I find that small lures work better than large ones. Super Spook Juniors are particularly useful, probably because it's so easy to make them dance and wiggle erratically. Spastic movement patterns, with frequent pauses and variable speeds, often generate plenty of blow ups when slower, steadier retrieves will elicit nearly none, especially in windy, sunny summer weather.
In winter, when cloudless skies usually coincide with a ballooned barometer, light winds and finicky fish, topwaters become basically useless. The best winter topwater sessions mostly happen under cloudy skies, when relatively low barometric pressure has promoted onshore winds and allowed tide levels and temperatures to rise. An uplift in the feeding mood of the fish typically occurs in such conditions, making them susceptible to floaters for a while, particularly in the hour or so before and after dusk, when water temperatures are highest.
The low-light period surrounding sunset is a good time to catch trout in winter. Some experts assert that "it's smart to sleep in and fish the afternoon all winter, since cold mornings make the fish sluggish and hard to catch." While I do adjust my fishing schedule to include dusk on occasion, years of guiding and tournament fishing have led me to reject the notion that trout are always sluggish on cold winter mornings.
An early bird by nature, I like to leave the dock in pre-dawn darkness, even on the coldest days of the year. I do this for several reasons, mostly because I've learned that early morning is one of the best times to catch trout, regardless of water temperatures.
Keeping an accurate log over years of fishing has helped forge my belief in the productivity of the early a.m. hours. Events this past winter, a long, bitter one by South Texas' standards, reinforced the concept. On several outings, we caught our best trout early, though our hands were still numb in the morning chill.
Fishing from dawn until mid-afternoon in winter takes me off the water during one of each day's best times (dusk), but we're on the water during one of the consistently most productive times too. It's a choice I consciously make, partly to avoid arriving on the water in the middle of the day and dealing with crowds of people standing where I want to fish.
The ability to fish exactly where I want to fish is more important than any other factor in the equation. One thing that regularly eliminates competition for prime spots is the monthly arrival of a full moon. According to conventional wisdom, "fishing during daylight hours on the days immediately following a full moon is tough." Those making such a claim assert that the bright light reflecting off the pale orb in the sky allows fish to see and feed all night, so they're less motivated to eat during the day.
Again, experience has led me to snicker at such a theory. I've documented numerous exceptional catches, indeed some of my best ever, one and two days after full moons. I frequently find it's possible to catch fish all day long just after the full moon peaks. These benchmark outings happened in all seasons and under highly variable conditions; they include ridiculously high numbers of fish caught and memorably big fish.
I believe strong moon phases (both new and full) make all life forms more active. I suspect trout do feed well at night on most full moons; they also gorge during the day during the same time frames. The myth of the dead bite after a full moon probably gained favor among anglers living in areas in which the catching of fish is highly dependent on tidal patterns, which are exaggerated during strong moons, creating sharp peaks and valleys in the catching. It's easy to barely miss out on a bonanza in such situations and blame the bright moon. Maybe crazy-good catches around a full moon come easier in areas which have meager tide movement, like the hyper-saline lagoons where I usually fish.
My experience might lead me to misinterpret the veracity of a concept as it relates to another angler in another place. In my opinion, fishing experts are faced with a conundrum; we are forced to generate conclusions about factors which affect our ability to catch fish and plan our efforts based on our belief in those conclusions. By doing so, we potentially place too much faith in our beliefs and run the risk of establishing self-perpetuating behavior patterns.
People in other sports are similarly affected. Golfers, for instance, once thought that lifting weights and building muscle mass would ruin a swing; football coaches for decades believed that the forward pass was too risky a play on which to build an offense. Both those ideas have now been rendered completely obsolete. Those who doggedly adhere to accepted principles sometimes fall behind forward-thinking innovators in sports.
Anglers who always put their topwaters away once the sun comes up won't know if fish can be caught on them later in the day. Similarly, captains who eat a late breakfast before leaving the dock all winter won't know what can be caught at the crack of dawn, nor will those sitting at home for a couple of days after the full moon have any idea whether the fish are biting.
I won't become a couch potato every time the moon grows bright; I'll be trying to take advantage of the enhanced opportunity a big moon creates. And I'll probably leave the dock before sunrise, even when wearing five layers under my waders. If it's warm, I might sling a small topwater all day to catch trout my favorite way. I know these strategies fly in the face of conventional wisdom, but that's okay. I won't hesitate to etch a few new truths into my own stone.
My experience leads me to conclude that some of the most-widely accepted "truths" about fishing are not in fact truths at all; they are the products of self-perpetuating behaviors. I strongly disagree with at least three well-heeded rules on which many established experts base their decisions of when and how to target trout.
One commonly espoused mantra is that floating plugs are effective "early and late, under low light conditions, when winds are relatively calm." The idea that topwater lures only work well in such conditions is readily accepted by many trout fishermen, but I'm not one of them. I've often proved it's possible to tease trout into rising to the plugs when others won't try.
On many occasions, primarily during the warm months, when water temperatures exceed 80 F, I've been able to catch trout on topwaters all day. I start off virtually every day fishing with floating plugs from about April through October, assuming I can trigger some blow ups. Sometimes, the early morning topwater bite is poor, and I switch to other offerings for a while, but even on those days, I frequently switch back to the floaters and catch plenty of trout in the middle of the day, with the sun high overhead.
Since many of the best topwater sessions I've experienced occurred from mid-morning to mid-afternoon on bright, hot summer days, I believe that abundant sunlight has no negative effect on a topwater bite. Trout are naturally built to feed at the surface, and when they are in an aggressive feeding mood, floating plugs can be used to catch them, providing the appropriate plug is presented to them in an enticing manner.
In summer, I find that small lures work better than large ones. Super Spook Juniors are particularly useful, probably because it's so easy to make them dance and wiggle erratically. Spastic movement patterns, with frequent pauses and variable speeds, often generate plenty of blow ups when slower, steadier retrieves will elicit nearly none, especially in windy, sunny summer weather.
In winter, when cloudless skies usually coincide with a ballooned barometer, light winds and finicky fish, topwaters become basically useless. The best winter topwater sessions mostly happen under cloudy skies, when relatively low barometric pressure has promoted onshore winds and allowed tide levels and temperatures to rise. An uplift in the feeding mood of the fish typically occurs in such conditions, making them susceptible to floaters for a while, particularly in the hour or so before and after dusk, when water temperatures are highest.
The low-light period surrounding sunset is a good time to catch trout in winter. Some experts assert that "it's smart to sleep in and fish the afternoon all winter, since cold mornings make the fish sluggish and hard to catch." While I do adjust my fishing schedule to include dusk on occasion, years of guiding and tournament fishing have led me to reject the notion that trout are always sluggish on cold winter mornings.
An early bird by nature, I like to leave the dock in pre-dawn darkness, even on the coldest days of the year. I do this for several reasons, mostly because I've learned that early morning is one of the best times to catch trout, regardless of water temperatures.
Keeping an accurate log over years of fishing has helped forge my belief in the productivity of the early a.m. hours. Events this past winter, a long, bitter one by South Texas' standards, reinforced the concept. On several outings, we caught our best trout early, though our hands were still numb in the morning chill.
Fishing from dawn until mid-afternoon in winter takes me off the water during one of each day's best times (dusk), but we're on the water during one of the consistently most productive times too. It's a choice I consciously make, partly to avoid arriving on the water in the middle of the day and dealing with crowds of people standing where I want to fish.
The ability to fish exactly where I want to fish is more important than any other factor in the equation. One thing that regularly eliminates competition for prime spots is the monthly arrival of a full moon. According to conventional wisdom, "fishing during daylight hours on the days immediately following a full moon is tough." Those making such a claim assert that the bright light reflecting off the pale orb in the sky allows fish to see and feed all night, so they're less motivated to eat during the day.
Again, experience has led me to snicker at such a theory. I've documented numerous exceptional catches, indeed some of my best ever, one and two days after full moons. I frequently find it's possible to catch fish all day long just after the full moon peaks. These benchmark outings happened in all seasons and under highly variable conditions; they include ridiculously high numbers of fish caught and memorably big fish.
I believe strong moon phases (both new and full) make all life forms more active. I suspect trout do feed well at night on most full moons; they also gorge during the day during the same time frames. The myth of the dead bite after a full moon probably gained favor among anglers living in areas in which the catching of fish is highly dependent on tidal patterns, which are exaggerated during strong moons, creating sharp peaks and valleys in the catching. It's easy to barely miss out on a bonanza in such situations and blame the bright moon. Maybe crazy-good catches around a full moon come easier in areas which have meager tide movement, like the hyper-saline lagoons where I usually fish.
My experience might lead me to misinterpret the veracity of a concept as it relates to another angler in another place. In my opinion, fishing experts are faced with a conundrum; we are forced to generate conclusions about factors which affect our ability to catch fish and plan our efforts based on our belief in those conclusions. By doing so, we potentially place too much faith in our beliefs and run the risk of establishing self-perpetuating behavior patterns.
People in other sports are similarly affected. Golfers, for instance, once thought that lifting weights and building muscle mass would ruin a swing; football coaches for decades believed that the forward pass was too risky a play on which to build an offense. Both those ideas have now been rendered completely obsolete. Those who doggedly adhere to accepted principles sometimes fall behind forward-thinking innovators in sports.
Anglers who always put their topwaters away once the sun comes up won't know if fish can be caught on them later in the day. Similarly, captains who eat a late breakfast before leaving the dock all winter won't know what can be caught at the crack of dawn, nor will those sitting at home for a couple of days after the full moon have any idea whether the fish are biting.
I won't become a couch potato every time the moon grows bright; I'll be trying to take advantage of the enhanced opportunity a big moon creates. And I'll probably leave the dock before sunrise, even when wearing five layers under my waders. If it's warm, I might sling a small topwater all day to catch trout my favorite way. I know these strategies fly in the face of conventional wisdom, but that's okay. I won't hesitate to etch a few new truths into my own stone.