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Just sitting here remembering the late 1980's early 1990's. Sorting through old pictures. I've had the chance to fish some very good waters over the past decade. and I can honestly say, no body of water has ever come close to LSC in Variety, Quantity, and Quality. When I first started fishing LSC it was rare to run into another Bass fisherman. The locals called them trash fish.
They said we were wasting our time. Back then there were scattered properties that didn't have seawalls. These locations seemed to be magnets. But were there was seawall, there were fish on every ladder,every pole,every corner,under every bridge. By the end of the day, your thumb was raw, your hands and arms were sore from setting the hook. The average size had to be 2 1/2 LBS. Rarely caught a bass less than 15 inches. If you didn't catch over 100 bass you didn't have your bait in the water. For every bass caught there had to be 2 rockbass (8-12 inches). Not to mention the pike, crappie, perch, and bluegill. Oh yea this is just the Largemouth fishing.
The Smallmouth were stacked in the shallows, what seemed like everywhere, just waiting to hammer any unsuspecting bait that swam by. I tell this story to anyone who likes to hear fish stories, and I allways get that look like I'm living in a dream world. I just smile and go on about my way.
I have an Idea what heaven will look like.
How many of you have memories like these???
Yes I know the lake still puts up some very good days. But you have to earn them now.
 

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That has to be John from Dayton.....

I remember those days and the high water that was with them......I believe that as the water rises we will see similar dyas for you and your friends when you visit.

Mini
 

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i just started fishing lsc last season. i am looking foward to making my own memories as the years continue. the only depressing thing is that i waited so long to start fishing it
 

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I remember when I was a kid, 12 or 13, is when first started riding my bike to the lake to fish every weekend. I was one of those pesky kids who would always ask a 1000 questions to anyone else fishing near me. I wanted to learn everything about the sport. One day while riding my bike to fish, I got hit by a car. My bike was pretty bent up. All that happened to me was a broken tooth and several scrapes. The kind with the gravel in them. But it didn't stop me from fishing that day. I still believe I love fishing THAT much.
 

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I remember riding my bike from Clawson to the Lake to fish at night for Catfish with my friend John Edgerton. We would cast Bass Oreno's and catch Bass. I also remembering losing baits to fish that bit them off and I guess that is why I became Muskie Bob. John and I were friends for 70 years until he died. The memory of John and I fishing in those days are one of my best. Fish and enjoy and build your memories. Good Fishing Bob
 

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I am not going to tell you how long ago it was but, I can remember my friend Clyde and I riding our bikes down to the upper Detroit river and fishing in the warm water outlet of the Seven Sisters Edison power plant. We would sneak past the gate when the guards wern't looking and get down to the river as fast as we could. We could catch silver bass like crazy in the spring. It was not unusual to catch 75 to 80 in a day each each. One day we found a few perch a little upstream on the discharge canal and found that the closer to the plant we got the more and larger perch we could catch. We were pulling out eleven to fourteen inch yellow bellies two at a time on spreaders and night crawlers constantly about 10 feet from the plant itself. I even caught my first walleye at the mouth of that canal.

As I think back, it was my friend Clyde that got me into fishing at an early age. For that I owe him a lot and wish he were still around to tell him so.

Jim
 

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That was only a couple of years ago wasn't it Jim? Bob
 

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Let's say it was a "few" years ago Bob.

Jim
 

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I remember the first smallie I ever caught in St.Clair. June, '87,...by the old lights (way before Mini claimed squaters rights to everything north of the cut-off ),....I was in a club tournament,...we ran out there 1st thing in the a.m....fished right at the base of the lights with a crankbait....caught a nice 3lb smallie and then another one,....my "driver" blanked...it was only the 2nd time I ever fished the lake and I thought it was awesome....my first 2 smallies (both @ 3lbs) and those were the only 2 I caught the whole day!
The first club tournament I ever fished there was in June also..I took 2nd place with 5 largemouth out of Venice shores canals...St.Clair RULES!!
 

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YOU MEANT 67 DIDN'T YOU MAC?
 

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Nope,..that's no typo Bob,...in '67 I lived in Monroe and my Dad would take us ice fishing on Erie,..man that was a blast!! But, my fishing was limited to Houghton lake and Canadian trips with my grandparents....(Dad didn't fish,..he LOVED to pheasant and duck hunt though),...then in '68 we moved to Tecumseh, where I fished the Raisin River for Carp and LM Bass. After college I got married and started a family....didn't get back into serious fishing until the mid 80's,...then in '87 I joined a Bass Club and I've been into it ever since!! I started "Scales and Tales" at the same time hoping to use that to support my fishing habit while my regular job supported the family,..I love it when a plan finally comes together!!
Mac
The last 15 years have been pretty darned good,..but the next 15 will be OUTSTANDING!!!
 

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Good for you Mac. I'll check you out in 30 years or so to see how you are doing.
 

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....very good Bob!! I'll be waiting for you!!
 

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My best early memory of bass fishing comes from a small lake at Walter Hayes park near MIS. We used to camp there when going to the races in the mid-late 70s.
I was fishing for LM with jitterbugs and the like when I met an older man while wading. He introduced me to the Rebel Ringworm (black-grape of course) and rigged me up. The two of us were the only ones around camp to catch bass that day, him 2 and me 1. I was hooked on worm fishing from that day on.
On LSC, my first bass experiences were the plentiful SM hitting white grubs around St.Lukes and Mitchells Bay in 81/82. Man,that was fun.
 

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Not many memories here since I'm very new to LSC. My first trip out this summer I launched off the public launch at the north end of anchor bay. We just got out and as I was getting ready to cast my third or fourth cast I just happened to look down and we were drifting right over a musky that was as big as my leg. I know that all you veterans of LSC see large muskies on a somewhat regular basis but I was hooked. I'm trying my first ice fishing trip this weekend and I'll be back many times during the spring and summer. I just shudder to think of all the good fishing that I could have missed while fishing other lakes.
 

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Some of my fondest memories fishing go way back to the 60s when I was a teenager and my dad and I would run all over the state looking for different species. I don't know if Lake St. Clair wasn't clean enough to encourage him to fish it or if he just didn't know something other guys knew, but we did alot of driving to places I never bother travelling to anymore, now that I have this great fishery in my backyard.

Of all our trips, I enjoyed three destinations over all others. For largemouth bass and pike, we would make an annual trip to the backwaters of the Muskegon river at the Reedsburg dam. This required us to get in touch in advance with a grizzled old guy named Louie Spinks, I think, who rented boats there, to be sure he knew we were still alive and we wanted him to save us a boat. I don't think he had easy access to a phone because we always wrote him a letter and hoped for the best. We would get up about 2 am and jump in the already packed car and drive up there, arriving before daylight. Without fail, our worrying was for nothing and we always had that boat waiting for us along the sandy shore near a little park area. We would shove off and be casting as the sun rose. We used Heddon-Stanley weedless spinners with a big Uncle Josh green pork frog to cast over and under and all around the stumps and logs that filled that flooded area, and we usually caught alot of fish. No mono line there, though - we used 20-30# test braided dacron on bait casting reels...occassionally a whole log got reeld in! One of my dad's friends or my uncle would usually be in the boat with us and I enjoyed the hell out of their off-color jokes and songs, most of which I remember still, to my dad's continuing embarrassment!

We would pull into shore at lunchtime and take a nice "siesta", although I couldn't sleep in the middle of the day back then as easily as my dad, who had driven all the way up there by himself after working as a carpenter all week. One time in particular, I pulled my waders out of our truck, a blue & white carryall with geese painted on the sides, while Dad snoozed and I decided I'd try fishing with my light spincast outfit at the foot of the dam in the rushing water - who knows what I might catch? Wouldn't my dad be surprised if he woke up and I had a nice trout to add to our creel? Well, I got myself situated pretty good and was feeling pretty pleased with myself and enjoying the solitude, since there wasn't another soul around. I enjoyed that about two minutes before I lost my footing on the mossy rocks and down I fell! I was washed onto my back, my waders filled and away I went, right into a big hole. I caught my breath just before going under and somehow managed to thrash my way to the shallower side of the river and crawl out, but not before I contemplated drowning. I think I hung onto my rod & reel through it all, but I may have lost it. One thing I sure enough remember - be careful around the bottom of a dam (dam careful!).

Dad wondered how I got so wet and I don't think I ever did tell him. Maybe now that he's 79 I could do it and not be in trouble, but why chance it.

Telling stories is alot of fun - thanks for the thread. I'll save my other two favorite spots for another time (Port Austin & Bruce Peninsula, both wading for smallmouths).

[ 01-17-2003, 08:19 AM: Message edited by: boatmonkey ]
 

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Back in the summer of 1971, I think it was, an oversized pond called Wilderness Lake was opened to catch tiger muskies that had been planted there some time before. I think it was somewhere in Livingston County. With great anticipation, I drove over for a Saturday of fishing on this rustic, pristine sounding body of water so close to home. But when I got to the lake I found it to be surrounded with expensive homes that somehow were overlooked in the article I read about the lake - so much for the "wilderness" in the name.

Well, I had driven all the way there and I figured I might as well fish a little, anyway, so I rented a boat without motor from the only livery on the lake. I rowed out a good ways and started casting while I drifted. I stayed at it all morning with a little succes, as I recall, although no muskies, but by 11 am it was really hot and the lake was rocking pretty good. It seemed like every one of those expensive homes had a speedboat and it was out with a teenager at the helm ripping up the lake.

Back in those days, before the advent of the PWC, the fisherman's nemesis on a lake like this was the water skier. Between the speedboat pilot looking backwards as much as forwards and the skiers enjoying wild, erratic, unpredictable moves, you have a hell of a time concentrating on your fishing near a water skier, then or now.

Bobbing around like a cork in a rented boat without a motor, I seemed to become a favorite target for a few of these guys. I just tried to ignore them and kept casting.. I had just made a nice long pitch with the wind out the stern when a skier came within twenty feet of the side of the boat and then swung out to my rear. I was alternating between hanging on to the gunwales and shaking a fist at the guys when my rod gave a jerk. Maybe that dumb SOB stirred up a strike for me, I thought. I grabbed the rod with both hands, immediately felt a good tug, and set the hook. Line started peeling out and my drag was singing. Hey, I might have something here, says I. Looking back 150 feet or so behind my boat, I watched as the skier threw his arms in the air, releasing the towrope, and went down. My drag stopped whining so I started to take up some line. This felt like a keeper - I raised the rod slowly and took up line reeling on the way back down. Come to papa, little fishy!

"Goddam! Hey!! GODDAM!!!" What the hell was that skier yelling about, I wondered. My catch started to put up resistance. I took a chance and tried to stop it by raising the rod again and the skier gave out another couple yelps. Then my line broke and I lost one of my favorite Rapalas, a nice 11S floater. Now I was the one saying "goddam!". As the speedboat came back by to pick up the skier, I heard the guy in the water scream "I got a hook in my a$$ - hurry up!" Only then it hit me that I had a big one on after all.

Evidently the roostertail this skier was generating had sucked up the lure when he ran over the line and it went right up his baggy shorts. Ouch! After the pickup, they sped in to shore and I decided I wasn't going to top that one no matter how long I stayed out, so I packed it in, too.

Now some of you might fault me for not playing him better, but in my defense he was at least 160 pounder and a pretty strong swimmer.
 
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