It’s been some time since I paused before releasing a freshwater fish – that hesitation that precludes stomping the life out of something, a glance at the water restored my senses and I opted to let the beast go..
It wasn’t due to some periodic male ritual, wherein we bend the environment to our will, it was an unlikely source – Singlebarbed as Locust.
Dawn had me wading through free garlic, and with 45 pounds of the Precious stashed in my kitchen, that Largemouth Bass took on new meaning.
In my youth, someone mentioned the presence of largemouth bass in Lake Merced – a pair of lakes sandwiched between the San Francisco Zoo and Ocean Beach, within San Francisco proper. It was a put and take fishery allowing city dwellers the ability to seduce trout with “Floating EggDeath” – salmon eggs and marshmallows.
About midway down the lake something shouldered aside the tules and latched onto the monstrous grape spinnerbait I was hurling. A 6lb largemouth, which confirmed the rumor – and sans camera I stomped the life out of it for proof.
While I’m tucking my napkin in place – I missed the “bitter beer face” of older brother, and stuffed that trophy fillet in my gob…
It was if I’d emptied a goldfish bowl and licked the algae off in one monstrous swipe.
20 years later, it’s the memory of that Lake Merced Largemouth that gave me pause, and while 45 pounds of Garlic may cover the initial fillet – it’s the other one I’m worried about.
Swirling green water looked back at me with the promise of flavors never tasted before … and I got cold feet, the Jungle stretch of Putah Creek looks a bit cleaner than the Little Stinking, but not worth the gamble.
I’d returned to test the X-Factor nymph on some of those huge Pikeminnow, saw one give it a half hearted bump – and then caught a pair of Largemouth and a matched brace of Smallmouth bass.
I’d tied some with gold beads and some with the traditional black, and black was the winner.
The bank side canopy allows me to poke the rod out and literally jig the fly in front of the fish – which is invaluable when testing out some silly theory or oddball prototype.
… and after Sunday’s adventure, I’ve got the resolve to explore the bizarre and absurd, leaving silliness to the guys that actually catch fish.
The real question here is, how does one acquire 45 pounds of free garlic?
After the mechanical harvesters make their pass, you fill your waders with what rolls off the conveyer belt. It’s the “good” and the “bad” of the central valley of California. Good because of all the produce available – bad because it’s all watered by brown creeks like the kind I fish in…
It’s called “gleaning” – the crop is harvested, and before they till everything under you can help yourself to anything they missed. It’s common practice away from the main roads, farmers don’t mind it after they’ve harvested their crops.
You know, I’ve been to the Colorado River where the mud-brown water inspires the old adage, “To thick to drink – to thin to plow,” but if the fishing of your local creek has you out in the middle of 100 acres of crop land…you might need to re-calibrate the GPS.
Also, while farming practices in general may not be enhancing the angling environment, the bounty of your gleaning is NOT the result of diverted creek water but pretty damn deep ag-wells, hundreds of feet down.
And you can mark your calendar: the plum harvest will be done soon; glean away.
It’s a mixture of deep wells and diverted creek water – depending on the area. You and I saw some of those pumps upstream.
Them walnuts of yours is above reproach.
Do you have a root cellar? Whenever someone gives me a bunch of garlic, it ends up sprouting before I can use it all.
I ferment it with all them old cigar butts to make special Rattlesnake remedy. Cures whatever ails you, and removes unwanted spouses, and college age children that still insist on feeding at your table.
You need to come up with a label and get TC to market that stuff for you. Should make a fortune.