Everyone likes to explore new water, the chance of new spots and potential fish that only live in our imagination.  A long time ago, my brother told me about a trip he made to Little York Lake.  During his trip, he took his small aluminum multi-species boat under Interstate 81.  On the other side was a large pond called Goodale Lake.  He was there early July and he found the water filled with lily pads.  He didn't stay and fish because the water was (in his mind) too shallow and he was worried he wouldn't get back to the main lake.

Apparently, the water under I-81 was shallow and had current.  I guess he banged the prop a few times.  

He did say one thing that stuck in my head, even to this day.  "Looks like great frogging water". That's all it took.  

I love to fish a floating frog, over mats, through the pads, next to laydowns, under docks . . . its all good!  Because when you get that blow up, your heart stops.  Like the first time you felt scared. Then you have the uncertainty of the hook-set.  Will the fish be there or will the frog come flying back at you?  Its a part of the fun.  Once you feel the weight, they all seem like monsters for that split second.  You think you have hooked the new state record!  Fishing the frog gets addicting and its hard to put down.

Well, today was the day to explore.  To see if I could make it under the bridge.  To see if Goodale was really too shallow.  To see if there was fish living there.  To see if I could catch some bass.

Launched around 7am and paddled out into Little York for the first time.  The water temp was 45 degrees.  Water was clear, visibility to 6-7 feet.  The bottom was silt and muck, common in shallow weedy lakes.  The large flat to the north, still had last year's vegetation on the bottom.  Small schools of perch cruised in 3-4ft.  There was life up shallow.  Good.

As I round the point that leads to the bridge, I was immediately conscious of current.  As I heading into the small canal that parallels I-81, the current increased.  On a normal paddle, I usually average just under 4 mph but my GPS was only reading 1.5.  As I neared the bridge, I laid my rods flat because the opening looked like a tight squeeze.  The current increased as it was funneled through the pass. No turning back, I headed under the concrete bridge.

Paddling was made difficult as the ceiling was just above my head.  I had to bend low and flatten out my strokes.  It quickly became apparent that if I couldn't make progress, I was in trouble.  I flood of bad scenarios flashed in my head.  No room to turn. Turtling. Water temp. Pinned.  I remember thinking, I'm an idiot.  I paddled a little harder and was just about to emerge on the other side but debris from the winter was jammed in the other opening, channeling all the water to my location.  I powered through, barely.  And there I was . . . in Goodale.

The chill of the morning became a heat wave after my little burst of energy.  It turns out that my bridge adventure was the most exciting part of the morning.  I found that Goodale in not too shallow and that the only fish I could find were pickerel.  After all the fuss to get into this body of water, I left and headed back into the main lake.

I started shallow.  Nothing.  I tried a little deeper along a drop off.  Nothing.  Over the span of an hour, I only had one bump on a jerkbait.  And I'm pretty sure it was a perch.  By the time I resorted to the idea of dragging a drop shot in 25-30ft, I saw Matt making his way towards me.  Matt is a fellow kayak angler and offered to meet me on Little York that afternoon.

After a quick discussion and debating our options, it was confirmed.  We were headed back to Goodale.  Back under the bridge. The only issue, Matt has a Hobie PA14.  The water under the bridge was too shallow to use the fins and the PA14 is a beast to paddle.  In the end, he hopped out and dragged over the last hurtle but we made it.

The Sun had disappeared and a steady north wind made conditions a little less comfortable.  We quickly started working the edges of the deepest hole and caught a mixed bag of perch, pickerel.

Matt landed the first bass of the day but nothing consistent.  I ventured toward the mouth of where the West Branch of the Tioughnioga enters Goodale.  

As my graph showed the depth change from 13 to 9 feet, I made a cast into about 6ft. I was going to let the wind drift me back into the deeper hole.  My drop shot never reached the bottom and I reeled in the first bass of 2015.  Not the size I was looking for but it was past 1pm and it had been a long day of searching.  If felt good. 

I released the bass and duplicated the same process.  Again, I was greeted with an immediate bite. Turned out to be my best of the day. 

Matt and I continued to work this little drop off and boated a few more bass.  I continued to use a drop shot and Matt bounced along the bottom with a texas-rigged tube.  Matt also hooked up with a 16 inch chunk and we called it day around 3pm.  

Despite the fishing not being great, my real life experience has only magnified my imagination even more!  I saw the lily pads starting to grow.  There is deep water, surrounded by shallow flats.  Goodale should be excellent for fishing the frog!  I'll be back.

Because the water was so cold, I wanted to troll streamers but with the visibility so poor, that was out of the question.  I rigged a couple of rods with some small spoons and started to troll.  I tried to stay inside the pin buoys that mark the 5-6ft range.  As I headed toward the west shore, I past the mouth of Grout Brook and hit the mud line.  The water went gin clear and the water temp dropped to 34 degrees on my graph.  If the fish were any where, they would be in the warmer, muddier portion of the lake.

After a few passes and no hits or signs of activity, I decided I needed something with more vibration so the fish could find the bait easier and maybe trigger a strike.  I tied on some Jr Thundersticks but the results were the same, nothing.  In fact, I only saw one fish surface in the warmer water and I'm pretty sure it was a perch.

I decided to deviate from plan A and go in search of some smallmouths.  The water was muddied for a mile or so down the eastern shoreline, where the bank becomes steeper and the bottom rockier.  There were several places where small ditches and brooks emptied into the lake.  I fished a jerkbait around these areas as slowly as I could, allowing the jerkbait to sit suspended for 5-10 seconds.  It was painful.  This method is extremely difficult when your looking for bites but an affective method when the water is really cold.  I only kept at it because my graph was filled with arches in 10-12ft.  Some on the bottom and some of them suspended.  My efforts in patience were only rewarded with a chance to stretch my legs and a sun burn on my neck . . . which felt better than wind burn from our -10 degree winter!

In a last ditch ever, I tied the spoons back on and made a few more passes.  End of the day resulted in zero fish caught, trout or bass.  This being said, it was a successful trip in my mind.  I got back on the water, made a few casts, felt the sun on my face, and met a potential client. 

If your on the water, early spring . . . just a reminder, wear your PFD.  Thanks for reading.