The good news: I’ve never looked at my Marathon Navigator more within a two hour period. The bad news: I only have two hours between preschool drop off and pick up and I’d really like to sneak some fishing in during the precious few hours of free time. The best way to get a line in the water is to load up the bike, grab some gear, and pedal up the trail that follows the Carll’s River as fast as I can and fish all the way back down. I love being a dad but as many of you know, free time comes in random spurts here and there and you have to make the best of it. I also love gear, so any opportunity to put my stuff to good use is welcome. Can I make it up there and back in time? Can I actually catch a fish? We’ll get there, but first let’s take a closer look at the rig, which I believe is pretty ideal for some fishing. 

My off-road bike is a Cannondale Topstone 3 from a few years back. Known as a “gravel bike”, this style of bicycle is a blend between a road endurance bike (you sit more upright than an on-road race bike) that can accommodate chunky tires for off-road use. The trail I’m riding is firm packed gravel and remains relatively flat the whole way. I’ve found the bike to be comfortable and easy to ride without breaking too much of a sweat. Recently, I swapped out the stock saddle for a leather Brooks because I’ve heard great things about how comfortable they are once broken in. Another cool thing about the Topstone is how it can accommodate gear. There are all sorts of mounting spots for racks, bags, fenders, you name it. While I’m not fully outfitted for bike packing (yet), the quick fishing trip doesn’t call for too much. 

I have a handlebar and saddle back from OrNot, a company making apparel and gear with minimal branding. The saddle bag holds a flat repair kit, while the bar bag has my sunglasses, wallet, phone, keys, and other essentials that I’d rather not have bouncing around in pockets while pedaling. All of my fishing stuff is tossed in a sling bag made by a friend a few years ago under the moniker “Local Hardware”. It’s a small roll top sling that’s thoughtfully made and big enough to house a few fly boxes, some tippet, floatant, and more. 

The top tube bag is a recent pickup from REI, and while it’s not the exact same fabric as the coyote-colored ECOPAK bags from OrNot, it’s close enough for me. I really love this bag because it stays out of the way yet remains really easy to access. My Fuji X100VI fits perfectly in the bag and the three attachment points keep it secured to the frame. A dual zipper lets you open the bag from either direction, again making it even easier to access your gear. I shot the photos for this story with the newest X100, which makes a great compact camera that pumps out some seriously high-quality photos for the size. 

If it weren’t for the Dragontail Mizuchi tenkara rod strapped to the bike, I wouldn’t get any fishing done. Tenkara originated in Japan, and is a form of fly fishing that uses a telescoping rod with a fixed line. I love tenkara rods for their ability to collapse down for easy transport. The Mizuchi is able to be fished in three different lengths, giving you some additional reach if you’re trying to hit a different part of the water. It’s a method of fishing that puts you close to the fish, so some additional stealth might be needed. I usually start out with some form of elk hair caddis, as the most likely target is going to be Bluegill and Pumpkinseed — two fish that are plentiful in the local lakes and streams and are willing to hit nearly anything you put in front of them. I secure the tenkara rod right to the top tube of the frame using the velcro tabs from the REI bag in the front and a cam strap from Austere Manufacturing in the back. 

It’s about a 15 minute ride from the parking lot to the lake that feeds the river. This is by no means remote fishing, as a few of my favorite spots are under bridges that major highways run over. I have a soft spot for the river, it’s where I caught my first trout on a dry fly (yeah, it was stocked, but who am I to judge) and one of the main fishing spots that kept me sane during the early days of COVID. Between the preschool drop off, driving to the parking lot, and unloading the bike, I’ve already burned 10 minutes. Time to get pedaling. It’s only 2.5 miles up to the lake and it’s a nice leisurely ride. The trail is completely shaded and the perfect September morning weather does not disappoint.

After snapping a few quick pics of the trail and my watch, I picked up the pace to maximize fishing time at the mouth of the lake. Turns out it’s much harder than I thought to take a wrist shot while keeping a bike upright, but I think I did pretty okay considering the variables. 

A quick unwinding of the fixed line, dip of the fly in some floatant, and an extension of  the rod to its second position, I tried a few drifts right at the mouth of the lake where it turns back into a stream. After a few steps down the river and a few casts later, I had a few hits from eager bluegills waiting for anything that looked even remotely tasty to float by. Setting the hook in tight quarters is a bit tough and takes a few tries, but these aggressive little fish aren’t scared off too easily. Before you know it, I have landed what is an extremely unimpressive fish after a fight I would describe as the opposite of “epic”. To me though, a fish is a fish. I find casting to make the perfect drift meditative. The weather is perfect, the bluegills are plentiful, but oh my god what time is it and how long have I been standing here miles from my car? Another glance at the Navigator says it’s only been about ten minutes. Phew. I want to get moving down the river to hit a few more spots.

I pick up my bike and roll it a hundred yards south or so and get back to more fishing. There’s a little bridge here that the fish like to shelter in. An eager Pumpkinseed slams the fly and takes off down the river. Since there’s no reel on a tenkara rod, you have to use the rod as the reel and bring it up and behind your body in order to bring the fish closer to you. This fish is more substantial, and before I can get the camera out of the bike bag, it’s flopped itself back into the river. I swear, this one was bigger than that little guy up there. Since these little panfish aren’t the smartest fish in the sea (river), I throw my fly in the same spot again hoping to get it back on the line so I can snag a picture. One or two casts later, and I got him. When I bring it in, to my surprise it’s a (very) juvenile largemouth bass whose mouth is barely big enough to justify the name. Regardless, I’m stoked to catch a largemouth because every single time I’ve targeted these fish, they’ve eluded me. I take the win and try one more spot just down the river. Nothing’s biting there and I would absolutely love to complete the Carll’s River Grand Slam. 

A Grand Slam in fishing is when you catch at least three species in a single day within a certain span of water. With the Bluegill and Largemouth already in the bag, I have a spot I know of that I can try for a trout. I jumped back on my bike and high tailed it down to another bridge that runs along a bridle path. You have to be really stealth when approaching this spot. These stocked trout are the toughest of the tough. They’ve made it through the hot summer months and will continue to live there for a very long time. They’re hard to catch, know what a person looks like, and have plenty of spots to hide underneath the hybrid bridge/path that they’ve made their home. 

When I pulled my bike to the side for a quick photo op, I approached the stretch of stream with the utmost caution. Boom. There he was. A sizable trout sitting there in the middle of the stream, right where I thought he’d be. The fish was kind enough to let me snap a quick pic, and I hoped we’d have a closer encounter in a few minutes. I unpacked the rod and made sure to cast from just the right angle to hit a perfect drift down the 2’ wide portion of stream. By the time the fly hit the water, the trout was gone. Underneath the bridge and out of sight. Was he smarter than me? Honestly, probably. I tried a few different flies, saw a few more trout, but I swear that there’s no one in the world who can catch these elite under bridge dwellers. I tried a few more flies, cast countless times, and realized I’ve probably been here for way longer than I thought.. Again, a glance at the watch and that proved my theory. It was now 10:30 and I have a scant 40 minutes to pack up, ride back down, load up the bike, and hopefully not get into a fight over a parking spot for pickup. 

I didn’t complete the elusive Carll’s River Grand Slam (that I just made up), but I did get a few hours of bike riding and fishing in, and for me that’s good enough. Fishing is one of the few activities that I feel is able to warp your perception of time. Sure, you might feel silly when you realize you’ve been standing in the same spot for 45 minutes throwing some tied up deer hair at a fish who doesn’t even care that you’re there but at the same time it’s kind of magical. Your brain turns off, goes into a different mode where you’re ignoring your phone and there’s not a device in sight. It’s escapism in a pure and attainable form, and that’s a big part of why I enjoy the activity so much. You might not be landing any trophy fish, no hero poses with a massive salmon on the bank of a storied river, but there’s something just as appealing about the fact that you can jump on the bike, find a few fish, and kill a few hours so close to home without even realizing they’ve passed. At the very least, both biking and fishing are the perfect activities to immerse yourself in some gear, and that really helps too.