The Apple is a Peach

When I was employed, one of my favorite holidays was Columbus Day. When I briefly left education in the late 1970’s, I found I missed kids terribly. When I decided to return to teaching a year later, people at my plant asked me why I was returning to education. I lied and said it was because I didn’t want to work on Columbus Day. It was only partially a lie.

Enjoyment wasn’t based on the commemoration of Columbus. It was the timing of the day. Early October has mostly cool, clear, dry days. These days are perfect for fishing. As educators, we got the day off and that meant fishing trips. 

One day Paul said, “Hey guys, I read they are catching some nice smallmouth bass on the Apple River in northern Illinois. We should go on Columbus Day.” We were all four available and decided this would be our next fishing destination. The Apple flows through Apple River Canyon state park and eventually flows into the Mississippi on the edge of the old Savanna Army Depot.

Paul called the ranger station at the state park and received some fishing advice and directions. This was before GPS so we actually needed a map.

The Apple is a shallow cool water creek. In this area it is shallow enough to wade. The cooler October weather meant we would need waders (high waist boots for you non-fisher people). 

For Don and Paul this was prime water for fly fishing. Robert and I brought our trusty spinning rods and lures we purchased from our Smokys trip.

It was a long four hour drive from Bloomington. We arrived around noon, and stopped to eat our packed lunches. Fortunately Don’s wife, Pat, had prepared many sandwiches. I brought basic staples like Cheetos and snack bars.

After lunch we put on all of our gear and waded into the river near the parking lot in the park. We caught fish quickly, but they were not smallies. The only fish were small minnow like creek chubs called dace. They were about 3 inches long with bumps all over the head. They may have gotten a few more bumps as we pitched them back immediately.

The park has limestone bluffs which line the river. The Apple has three branches in the park and they have an unusual flow pattern. The water from two of the branches enters the main branch, but they flow against the current. I learned later that uplift changed the river’s course and the main branch was at one time a tributary.

In spite of the scenic beauty, the fishing was disappointing. We decided to ask advice at the ranger station. This was a great move as the ranger pointed out other Apple River areas owned by the state. These areas, separated from the main park, were purchased as farm land was put on sale. Some of the land was owned on one side by the state and the other by private owners. The ranger said these sections were fished less often and almost no one fished them in the fall.

Though we are navigationally impaired, we actually managed to locate one of the sections. It was across the road from a Boy Scout camp, and we were able to park there. Unfortunately they were having a big jamboree, and the parking areas were packed. We hoped we didn’t get towed. After putting on all our gear, we waded into the edge of a corn field and mostly stumbled until we found the river. We had to slide on our butts to get in the water, but all managed to get in without falling.

The shallow water was crystal clear and we could easily see fish facing upstream waiting for food to swim by. Don and Paul fished with their tree snagging poles (fly fishing) while Robert and I fished with spinning equipment. The guy in the picture caught the first smallmouth.

We moved upstream as we tried different pools. In most places the river barely covered the bottom of my boots. It was narrow, and  in many spots less than 20 feet across.

This section of the river has many bluffs. Next to the bluffs, the river is much deeper, sometimes over 5 feet. As we were fishing a deep pool, something hit the water next to Don. It sounded like a cannon when it hit. We thought some kids were up on the bluff throwing rocks at us (Don). We watched the bluffs and waited for them to throw again. They did….it was a squirrel knocking down walnuts from a tree overhanging the bluff.

As we moved upstream, the ranger said to look for a bridge. This was the end of state property and we were not allowed beyond the bridge.  I found out later that my brother-in-law, Gregg, was part of the crew that built this bridge. This was an extremely steep bank to climb and we all had difficulty getting out. I wish he had put in a few steps to the top. Across the bridge lay more scenic bluffs, but there were beef cattle grazing the area and wading in the river. Since they were upstream, the water under the bridge was "unpleasant".

We had a mile walk, in boot waders, back to the car parked at the Boy Scout camp. After the mile long hike in boots against the current and then the hike back we were exhausted. However we caught many smallies along the way and had a wonderful time looking at the scenery and catching fish.

As we loaded into the car, for the long drive home Paul said, “The title will be "The Apple is a Peach’ ”. I asked what that was about. He said he wrote a journal when he went fishing. Each journal entry had a title. I thought the title was a perfect description of our adventure.

We returned many times, often in the summer as you can tell by the change in wardrobe. 

We caught many fish, including some really large river smallies. We explored more of the river. The area near the Boy Scot camp begins at another bridge and it contains several deep pools. We met a nice woman who owns a house on that section that she and her husband purchased for retirement. He had passed away, and she seemed to enjoy talking to us. One time we caught so many smallies in a deep pool near her house, we never waded upstream. We actually ran out of the crawdad lures we were using and couldn’t find any more in the area.

Often it was just Don and I returning, but we always considered the Apple a special place. We extended our trips to two days and included some sightseeing. This area of Illinois is untouched by glaciers and is extremely hilly and scenic. It is home to the highest land in Illinois, known as Charles Mound. The highest town in the state is nearby Scales Mound, a very small village, and home of two brothers who lived next door to me in college. I had uncles who farmed near there, and visiting them was the best part of summers.

Educators now can waive the state of Illinois requirement to dismiss school on holidays. Many districts have chosen to stay in school on Columbus Day. Now, when I fish on Columbus Day all those educators and kids are in school. Seriously, I don’t miss Columbus Day, but I am forever thankful that we made that first trip. The Apple really is a Peach. 

Credit Paul for the title and the photos.

Fishing with Kreuder and Dolan

I explained in an earlier post why I feared fishing on the Mississippi. Although I spent 11 years living in river towns, I only ventured out in a boat to fish one time. This was with my teaching buddy and long time friend, known by everybody as Kreuder.

Gerry(pronounced Jerry)  grew up in Savanna also on the Mississippi. Boating was a family tradition. In addition to being on the river almost every week-end, he was also trained as a rescue diver for the fire department.

Gerry loved to ride up and down the river, water ski, camp on sand bars and swim in the river. It seemed all his family fun centered around the river. He had a large powerful boat to do all this .

We were also friends with Kenny Dolan, who was the local postmaster. Kenny was married to Evelyn, a wonderful teacher, who mentored me through my first year. Kenny was the best known person in Albany mostly because you had to go to the post office to get your mail. Kenny was a disabled veteran and had been injured in WW 2. He was unable to use his right leg. Despite his injury he was the most affable, positive person I knew.

One day, Gerry decided to take Kenny and I out fishing on the Mississippi. Kenny could barely walk along the dock and crawl into the boat.Gerry didn't fish, Kenny couldn't swim, and I was just plain afraid. Despite this prescription for disaster, we headed out onto the mighty Mississippi.

After a little excursion up and down the river, Gerry decided to pull us into a small bay in a river island, known as Beaver Island.. He dropped an anchor and we cast our lines. After a few minutes of no fish, Kenny managed to snag his line. 

Kenny tried to free the line, by crawling out on the bow of the boat. Both Gerry and I were afraid he would fall in and tried to convince him to let us help.I ended up crawling out on a tree limb to free his line.

Having experienced near disaster, we decided a boat ride would be better than fishing.We finished the morning riding up and down the river. The only remaining excitement occurred when Kenny tried to get out of the boat and walk on the constantly moving dock. Fortunately he made it without falling in.

I don't know if our trip was part of the motivation, but Kenny began to push for a fishing park along the shore of the Mississippi. He wanted a place for kids and parents to fish safely. 

The local Lions club rallied to support his effort. Gerry was one of the leaders in the club and helped support this effort. A small former dump was cleared and leveled. The bank was gently sloped to the water so that anyone could access it. A small parking area was formed along the highway The club installed a few picnic tables and erected a sign.

This is my then four year old son, Scott, fishing at Dolan Park.

Gerry remains a life long friend, although we don't see each other often. He still boats in the Mississippi, but I don't think he fishes much. Kenny passed away over 40 years ago, but you can still fish along the Mississippi in Dolan Park, a great tribute to a great man.
credit Gerry for adding accuracy and Connie for pictures

Our latest rescue

We did manage to accomplish an unusual rescue. This occurred in Don’s boat. Paul had told us the DNR people were returning trapped muskies and walleyes to the main lake. Lake Evergreen has a catch area below the dam. Fish that swim or are washed over the spillway, land in this area which is fenced so they cannot escape down the creek.

Paul said they were being returned right off the dam and several had exceeded 36 inches.  This sounded like a great place to catch a trophy. Paul had to work, so Don and left for the lake.

We started fishing around the dam area, but had no luck. As we approached the dam, we saw a truck pull up on the road nearby and several DNR personnel and multiple volunteers began carrying fish out onto the dam and setting them in the water. The fish were quite large and Don and I figured they would be hungry and biting.

As we watched the people put the fish in the water we saw that a number of the fish were in distress. They were floating on their backs and people were trying to revive them by turning them over and moving water through their gills. Unfortunately some of the fish floated too far out for the people to help them.

We looked at each other and realized we should not be fishing. We put up our poles and Don drove us in towards the dam near the floating muskies. We asked if we could help.

By this time several of the muskies were more than 20 ft. out from the dam. Don moved us slowly in alongside two of the big girls. I snapped these pictures from a distance before putting down my phone.

It was quite a thrill to see such an enormous fish up close. Muskies are  powerful predators. They have multiple rows of razor sharp teeth. Muskie fishermen use steel leaders to keep the fish from cutting the line. They have wide flat heads and eyes that are set back like a hawk. A muskie is a killing machine.

In spite of their huge head and ferocious jaws, these fish were not a danger. I slipped my hand under one’s back and turned her over. As I supported her belly, I began to move her forward to get water moving over her gills. Slowly she began to pump water through her gills. A few moments later, she slowly dove into the deep water. Don was doing the same thing off the bow.

Don and I repeated this two more times before the rest of the muskies recovered and moved down. The DNR volunteers thanked us as we pulled away to go back to the dock.

We never caught fish that day, but it was a truly satisfying morning.  At least Don and I can say we caught several trophy muskies with our bare hands.

Two Rescues

There are moments on the water when we actually did something right and other boaters were ill prepared. I vividly recall launching a rental boat at Clinton Lake, while two inebriated guys were preparing to pull off the lake. One buddy threw the truck keys to the other. Result, diving for sunken keys. There was the time I saw the Evergreen Lake staff rent a motor boat to a family and the father claimed to know how to run the motor. After zig zagging around trying to figure how to steer, he rammed the boat into the dock. Fortunately his family was waiting on the dock and was not injured.

After the elderly (e.g. older than me) gentleman helped me recover my wayward boat (Adventures in Rick's Boat), I vowed to always assist someone in need while on the water. These are two tales of this happening.

First Rescue

I was fishing alone at Lake Evergreen. I was moving to a new location and encountered two people in a stalled boat. One, obviously the father, was cussing at his partner, obviously his teenage son, about failure to put fuel in the boat. They had managed to pull start the motor and go just a distance before they ran out of fuel. They were quite a distance from the main dock had no means of reaching that distance.

I pulled up and offered to help. The dad, still cussing at his son, told him to throw a goddamned rope to me so I could pull them in. I attached their line to one of my boat rope cleats and fired up my big motor and slowly pulled them toward the main dock.

As we moved closer, the father said to unhook the rope and they would use the trolling motor to get to the dock. I threw them the rope and moved back. I was still close enough to hear the father begin cussing at his son again because the trolling motor battery was dead. They had failed to recharge it. Fortunately they were close enough to the dock to paddle the rest of the way. Dad was still cussing at his son as I fired up my motor and left the area. I wonder if the kid will ever enjoy fishing.

Second rescue

Don and I decided to fish Shabbona Lake in northern Illinois. The lake is famous for muskies and crappies. The lake has a 10 hp limit. We took my boat and headed north.

Because it was summer, the lake was quite busy. It is a very small lake and one side is quite shallow. In the shallow area there are numerous tree stumps. Many are just under the surface.

As we moved into that area we saw a family of about 6 people sitting on one of those stumps. The large group could not get off the stump.  The oldest member of the group, probably the grandfather, was revving the motor to try and push off. The 10 hp motor simply was not powerful enough to push the heavy load over the stump. The stump was under the boat so there was no place to get purchase and push.

Since my boat has a 25 hp motor, as well as a 9.9, Don and I offered to help. We had the teenage boy in the front throw us a rope. Don stayed in the back and tied the rope to a cleat. I fired up the 25 hp and Don watched the stuck  group.

With a roar of the motor we were able to pull them off. Don threw back the rope and we waved as we slowly continued to fish around the stumps. We figured they were heading in.

About twenty minutes later we started to move to another area. As we were ready to leave the stump area, we saw the same family again. They were stuck again on another stump. We pulled up, had the same kid throw Don the same rope and pulled them off again. This time they headed for the boat ramp.

We caught one crappie that day. 

Our biggest catch was the stuck family.