Dickhead the Fish

This last weekend, in preparation for the apparent and much-advertised end of the world, Taterdog, Wifey and I got out and did some paddling!

Rock and Roll Ranger, Ready to Rock and Roll!

 Of all of the photos we tried to take of all of us, this is the best one. Or at least, the best one of the best two-looking individuals in the boat. Taterdog and Wifey, of course.

This is about 30 minutes before sundown in the Bugbee Shores area of Lake Meredith.


Lake Meredith is, in case you didn't know, damn near gone. When I was a youngster, the lake was around 80 feet. I think the max known depth is ~30 feet. now.   There is only one boat ramp which will actually get to the water now. All of the others run dry long before the shoreline.

Cliffside campsites which used to provide a nice, sweeping vista of a blue-green lake, now offer a lot of sand and a little water. It's like a drying pond.

 The view from Blue West campsites. The boat ramp is, of course, closed. 
If you really, for some reason, felt like carting a boat from the end of the ramp at this location to water, you'd be walking a couple of miles. At least.

It was kind of depressing.

We got to water a little later than expected, took Tater McDog out for his first boat trip (he dug it), then found a place to sleep.

We slept in the back of Rock and Roll Ranger with minimal problems. It was a little cool (we were just unprepared) and a our bed was a little firm (we'll have that fixed before next time).

Breakfast was scrambled eggs, mediocre smoked sausage, and instant coffee.

Since we haven't had any precipitation to speak of in about, oh, 8 years,  there's a burn ban across all of this part of the state. No open fires permitted anywhere at anytime. Kind of blows that you have to go camping at a lake and not get a fire, but, that's how it goes.


After breaking our fast, we headed to Cedar Canyon. Man. What a disappointment that was...

 Pictured: Rock and Roll Ranger and the Cedar Canyon boat dock.
Not pictured: Access to water.

We drove off of the end of the boat ramp for a couple hundred yards before parking in front of this dock. I felt it was photoworthy. Several hundred yards down towards the lake was a group of folks in an RV.

Impossible just a few years ago.

We made our way over to Sanford Yake, the only dock and boat launching ramp on the lake.
There was, until several months ago, a Marina where one could leave their boat, buy fuel, food, bait, and whatnot. But the company who managed the Marina shut it down. Lack of funds.  The lake is dying, they know it, and they're cutting their losses.

The structure still exists. I forgot to take a picture. That's depressing as hell, too (and more than a little creepy).

I got my fishing shit ready, got the yak in the water, and went feet wet around 8:00 or 9:00. Beautiful morning. Calm, chill, everybody happy.

Everyone except for Dickhead the Fish, that is.

I don't know much about fishing, really. I've caught a lot of catfish, but that's about it.

As much as I don't know about fishing as a sport,  I know even less about fish themselves. 

When I pulled this mean-looking, toothy, spiky bastard out of the water, I didn't really know what to do. I didn't know what it was, but I did know it was more than unusually displeased with being pulled from the water. I also knew that he swallowed the hook and that he had some sharp teeth.

Turns out he's a Walleye. Who knew? In any event,  I got him in the boat okay, was tryin to somehow extract the hook, he flipped out, then bit and cut the line.

So, even though he took some split shot and a hook with him, I decided to leave him the fuck alone before he bit the end of my finger off. Back into the water he went.  I went all day thinking he was some kind of toothy carp because he looked nothing like trout or catfish. And to me, at this point in my fishing career, anything that doesn't look like trout or catfish is probably some kind of carp. 

 

Behind me you can see the dam and the pump lift station. To the left of the station there's a "temporary" pump unit with some tubing running to the lake.  Water has to be pumped to the pump because the lake is so low.  You can see the lines on the lift station. Way up at the top is a sign which reads "Boats Keep Back 700 Feet"

To the left in the cove is the old marina, now abandoned.

In the bow is an anchor I found.

In a tree.

The boat ramp used to end up where the road curves. It's been added on to in order to keep up (or down) with the lake.

This tree was once the bane of many a fisherman. It scored me several free bits 'o tackle.

I don't know what you were doing Saturday, but it probably wasn't better than this.