Brian and I went to our trailer in Onalaska for the annual gill trip and to try for flatheads. The gills ran much smaller than average and mother nature prevented us from getting across the lake to the river for the cats, but we had a good time anyway. The gills, while small this year, were everywhere and we got in a little smallie fishing in as well. I invited Pikeguy, but he wussed out.
It's hard to see here, but they were coming two at a time on most casts again.
When they didn't come two at a time, one piggy often ate both jigs.
A break in the storms.
My share of the spoils. We sorted through hundreds of fish to get these marginal keepers, but at least there's meat in the freezer.
Why do the rods always end up in a massive clusterbomb by the end of the trip?
We're hoping to give both the gills and the cats one more shot in October...ahem... Adam.
