Bass here...bass there...there's other fishin' thrills out there!

By Tom Vassallo

Scan the magazine and catalog covers, go shopping online or browse the shelves at your favorite fishing shop and you are sure to see a lot of the same thing...bass jumping, bass chasing a weedless frog and bass hangin' from your favorite Bass Master's fingers. Sometimes it seems that every bait, lure and piece of terminal tackle has been developed with one species in mind...the largemouth bass.

But in the dead of winter don't even think "bass" when ice fishing. In early spring I find myself spending more time checking the water temperature, and on those sweltering days of summer they can turn off for days. But well before I got caught up in the bass frenzy and convinced by my friends that "bass was where it's at", I spent nearly every fishing trip with non-stop fightin' action on light to ultra light tackle that would rival just about any bass fishing trip I ever had.

In nearly every pond, river, lake or tiny creek in New Jersey resides a vicious killer...a toothy, fearless predator that will attack nearly any bug, minnow, bream, worm, spoon, spinner or fly tossed its way. Whether you fish in a clear lake or cedar-stained stream, chances are that predator is lying somewhere in wait among the reeds, grass, weeds and lily pads awaiting the next poor victim that happens by.

What predator am I referring to? Well, New Jersey is home to some of the best chain pickerel fishing anywhere. I'll bet that almost any bass angler who tossed a spinner bait or weedless frog has enjoyed the pleasant surprise of one of these "freshwater barracuda's" acrobatics after he accidently hooked up before Mr. Bass had a chance to lumber over to that bait.

From the time I could cast a bobber and hook, I couldn't get enough pickerel fishing. I could sit on a shady bank on a lazy day and keep a watchful eye on my bobber. But another day, if I felt a bit more energetic, I could get in a small jon boat , traverse an overgrown cedar creek to a small hole, and toss a Worden's Rooster Tail where no one else had ever fished. And you know what? Mr. Pickerel never disappointed!

Of the pickerel I landed, the largest was a 21" breeder that had to go close to four pounds. I landed that fish on a tiny 5 foot ultra-light pole in flooded reeds on 4 lb. test and no wire leader...and I'm still proud of that accomplishment. However, my best pickerel story centers around the one that I didn't land. And if I didn't have two witnesses with me (one is our contributing editor, and my "Cuz"... Mike Melchionne), there is no way anyone would believe it.

It was a lazy day on the Toms River, west of the Garden State Parkway...just about to Exit 80 on Parkway South. I was about 13 years old and we were in my Dad's wooden rowboat that we had rowed all the way upstream from Huddy Park in downtown Toms River. Well it had gotten hot and it was gettin' to the middle of the day and the killies were looking pretty sad. We were joking around and I picked out the largest killie I think I ever saw. I hooked him up and tossed him out. Well about 15 minutes later, I wasn't much into fishing any more and when I lifted him up he had that "milky white" look. I joked about him a little with my brother Nick and my "Cuzzy Boy" Mike and threw that poor, dead soul back out...right on the edge of the break and a big cluster of lily pads. It sat for about three minutes or so and then it just literally shot straight down and disappeared into the dark water.

If you have bobber-fished with killies much, you know this is how a big snapping turtle usually takes one. But I leaned back anyway and put all I had into my Dad's old bamboo pole and Mitchell open bail spinning reel. The weight rose slowly and as it hit the surface I was convinced it was an old cedar log at least four feet long. "It's a log!" I exclaimed dejectedly, but at that instant, that "log" swirled and rocketed back to the bottom with my pole bent tip to butt! My heart started pumping and the adrenaline kicked in as "Cuzzy Boy" Mike scrambled for the net.

I worked my giant quarry to the side of the boat and kept a tight line as his head rose out of the water. He hardly moved and his head remained out of the water next to the wooden planks on the side. We took one look at those huge, needle sharp teeth and knew no one was putting their hands down there!

My "Cuz" took the net which was a trout net that my Dad had attached to a 30 or so inch hand-whittled, wooden stick. He desparately tried to loop the well-undersized net under the giant's tale but frantically yelled, " I can't find the bottom of this thing!" A few seconds later, with one quick turn of his head, the line snapped and that monster splashed away, throwing water in our surprised faces.

Now my Dad had caught a 28" pickerel years before in North Jersey (which is covered with dust in my basement today!) and it has always served as a measuring stick for every good-sized pickerel we ever landed. But my Dad's fish was nowhere near the size of the one I missed that day. Mike still swears that it was not only the world's record, but that it dwarfed the world's record...which is 31 and 1/4 inches.

So, if the water's cold and the bass aren't biting, you might want to try a trip for some "Jersey" pickerel. They aren't picky eaters, they give a great fight and they make as good a memory as any other gamefish out there. See you next time...now GET OUT THERE AND FISH!