The Heavy Hand of High Pressure

Over the years, my fishing style has changed. For a long time, I was a topwater first and foremost kind of guy. I wrote at length about ways to catch fish on floating plugs through variations in presentation, size and type of lure. I still rely on what I learned in my topwater junkie days, but I've come to prefer Corkys over all other lures.

Since I'm known for my love of Mr. Brown's soft-bodied, fish-mimicking plugs, some of my customers ask me for specific help in learning to use them prior to their charters. I'm happy to give Corky lessons, but I'm consistent in cautioning those who want to set up a trip for that specific purpose. "I'll most likely be throwing them some, and if it's a Corky thing on the day we fish, you'll probably learn a lot. But it might not be a Corky thing."

A recent outing exemplifies what can happen when anglers embark on a mission to accomplish a certain task relevant to a particular type or style of lure. My old fishing buddy Ari Schwartz accompanied me and my clients on the poignant trip. A dedicated wading-first trophy trout enthusiast like me, Ari has amassed quite a collection of Corkys, and he uses them with calm efficiency. Effectively, my clients had two tutors from which to learn.

Our fishing day dawned cold and windy; a front had passed the previous evening, ushering in moderate to strong north winds, and the temperature had fallen from around seventy to fifty two in only twelve hours. A dense blanket of clouds obscured the stars when we left the dock in darkness, and it never lifted throughout the day. I'd noticed on an internet weather site that the barometric pressure had risen from around 29.80 to near 30.20 since the arrival of the front.

I was confident that our rattling and sinking Corkys would work to trick some of the fish I'd been catching for most of a month in a relatively small area, one that normally produces well behind a cold front. When we parked the boat in the spot and measured the water temperature at a reasonably warm fifty nine degrees, I was further convinced that our slow sinkers would work, having caught many fish on them in colder waters.

I and one of the clients managed to get a bite on our Fat Boys within the first half-hour of the session, but despite the presence of a few jumping mullet around us, we could not coax any more reactions from the fish in another hour of concentrated effort. Ari and I both demonstrated techniques we regularly use to catch fish on the lures, and the two students caught on quickly. Soon, we were all swimming the plugs in proven productive ways through a long set of potholes that had been holding fish, but no bites were forthcoming.

Ari was the first one to react in an intelligent and meaningful way. He took off his Corky and put on a red shad Bass Assassin rigged on a sixteenth ounce jighead. He'd let the worm settle to the bottom, begin slowing reeling it through the grass for maybe ten feet or so, sharply hop it up out of the grass twice, then repeat. Though the action was not fast with that method either, he began to prove what I already strongly sensed; trout were right in front of us, and some of them were big.

My old friend wound up doing most of the catching that day, though the other three of us switched over to the worm and tried to imitate his presentation as precisely as we could. We all managed to get quite a few bites and catch some fish, but Ari wound up with a bragging-rights kind of stringer, including three trout that averaged nearly seven pounds. I still tend to measure success in the old-school Troutmasters kind of way, adding up the weights of the three best trout. Any catch exceeding twenty pounds is a fine one, especially on a day when the feeding attitude of the fish is downright reluctant.

The strikes we (mostly Ari) got on our worms that day were pretty aggressive. Seems that once a worm passed in close enough proximity to the fish, they'd snatch it with sincere and deadly intent. But they simply were not willing to look up and rise to take something passing by overhead, no matter how slowly it might be going. At some point, one of the clients turned to me and said, "Explain why the fish want soft plastics today rather than the Corkys, so I will know."

I was honest and said I really couldn't be sure. "I've caught fish many times in water colder than this on Corkys. But the water temps are still dropping, and they've fallen pretty far pretty fast, so that is probably part of it. If the water were warming up to these temperatures, or if it were stable, the Corkys would likely work. But no matter what we think we know about the weather and how it affects fish, it's all about their feeding mood. I can't be sure why, but these fish seem to have their heads buried in the grass and the only way to catch them is to drag a worm really slowly right at their eye level."

Ari and I continued the discussion as we shared a bottle of wine later that evening. I checked the weather charts again to confirm that the barometer had continued to rise through the day. The thing that had thrown me off was the thick layer of clouds. Often, a rising barometer behind a front is associated with a clear blue sky.

"Even though we had the cloud cover," Ari said, "the air was dry and the barometer was high. Once you and I had thrown our Corkies for over an hour without catching a fish, I knew we were on the wrong track. I've gained a lot of confidence dragging the old worm lately, so I was kind of happy to make the switch."

I was certainly glad that he had and was forced to admit that I should have done so sooner myself without waiting for the evidence he provided. It's a good idea to make a prediction as to what the fish will bite on a given day and be patient in following up the prediction; it's also wise to have someone in the group do something different, especially something that might be productive if the fish are more negative than expected.

Several other lessons emerged from the results that day. One is that a lighter jighead is often better, especially when thrown at sluggish fish in winter. Ari and I don't even own heads heavier than one eighth ounce anymore, and often we prefer the sixteenth ounce ones. The light heads dictate super slow presentations in order to keep them in contact with the bottom and their fall rate is slower when they are dropping after being hopped. These things definitely matter when inactive fish are sitting on the bottom in a finicky feeding mode.

Another lesson we'll remember is that high pressure can wield a heavy hand. It's almost like the dense dome of air physically pushes everything down, even the fish. The tide often drops to its lowest point after a strong front, especially on the upper coast, and the fish seem to sit on the bottom with their noses in the grass or mud. "The moral of the story is that when the pressure is high, the chosen lure must be placed low and it needs to be moving super slow," I mused.

Ari had one last wry comment. "Yeah," he posed, "and that lure probably better be a worm. You can throw any color you want, as long as it's red shad!"