I decided to explore a remote reservoir today. I got up early, got some work done, grabbed some hot coffee, and headed out.
Once I hit the distant reservoir, I kept driving along the shoreline looking for spots to bowfish. Campers and anglers occupied every feasible access spot (much of the land bordering the water is very steep or thick with vegetation) for the first several miles.
I did stop at a cove and saw some good-sized carp on the opposite shoreline, but it was way too steep to access.
Eventually I found another cove and caught a nice smallmouth on my fishing rod. Here’s a picture of the fish.
I then began scouting for rough fish along the shoreline and ended up being shocked by some of the fish I observed.
I’ll admit up front that I didn’t get any pictures of the giant fish I’m going to describe. I generally bowfish in areas where cell phone reception is zilch, and so I just power my iPhone down. So, quick pictures aren’t on the menu.
While I was standing on a rocky ledge I saw three large carp cruise by about 5-6 feet under the surface. They were moving at a speedy pace.
One of the carp was the largest I’d ever seen in the wild. The one in the middle had to have been four-feet long, with a back that looked eight or so inches across. It was a monster. It was so big that it almost felt eerie as I watched it.
Unfortunately I wasn’t carrying my bow or I’d have nocked an arrow and taken a shot. It would’ve been a very low probability shot, but I’d have taken it.
Carp continued to pass by sporadically, and I ended up only taking one fruitless and low probability shot during the hour or so I was in the area. The fish were moving too quickly, and were just too deep—sometimes so deep I could hardly make out their outline.
At one point while I was standing and scanning the water, I saw the largest freshwater fish I’d ever seen in the wild. It was swimming by about eight feet underwater (the area where I was standing overlooked an underwater drop-off).
I couldn’t see the detail very well, but it looked like a shark. Are there mutant carp that reach 5-6 feet in length? I doubt it. I’m still trying to figure out what it was that I saw. It looked like its back was a foot across. No, alcohol wasn’t involved.
The crazy thing is, it wouldn’t be the last time I’d see a monstrous fish today.
I kept driving and found another good access spot just up the road where I found carp on either side of a rocky ledge. Both groups were lounging underneath overhanging brush and small trees.
One of the carp was a beast. It’s worth mentioning that the carp in this reservoir are, on average, much larger than the carp I usually see.
After missing several shots, I connected with a smaller carp as it cruised by me. Only, it wasn’t a carp. That was the first time I’ve misidentified a fish while bowfishing.
Anyhow, I heard the electric sound of a nearby cicada and ended up taking a picture of it.
I kept missing my shots.
Yes, I was standing on a ledge 6-7 feet above the water, and the carp were usually 2-3 feet below the surface, 10-15 feet out, and cruising, but I still feel I should’ve connected with a few.
The smaller fish I shot was swimming around three feet underwater in the same spot. Why was I missing the even bigger targets?
It was frustrating, but the anticipation was exciting.
Eventually I kept moving and drove to an area that I’d spotted on a map the day prior. It looked like a rough fish haven on the satellite imagery.
When I arrived, the water indeed looked extremely “carpy.” But, it appeared to be surrounded by private property and no tresspassing signs. Bummer.
I did end up finding an access point, but it was well above the water.
Wouldn’t you know it, I started seeing carp. Huge carp.
Since access to the water was blocked by barbed wire, I had to take my shots from around 12-feet above the water.
I ended up spending an hour or so in this spot, missing every single carp I shot at. It was humbling.
Again, I feel that I should’ve connected at least once. I took around 10-12 shots in all.
The carp I was shooting at were ambling along, going slowly, with backs at least six inches across. True beasts.
Some of my shots looked good, and I expected the fish to take off through the water with my arrow in it. But instead, the fish would simply swim away.
These giants weren’t spooking the normal way carp do when I’m bowfishing. They weren’t terrified, they’d just swim away casually. No cause for alarm. Nothing to see here.
Believe it or not, some of them would simply keep swimming along their original path. It was almost insulting. No, it was insulting. In fact, I was able to shoot three times at one particular carp. Missing three times.
The crazy thing is, it was a lot of fun.
I knew that since my shot angle was around 70-degrees, I didn’t have to aim as far below the fish, and most of my shots were when the fish were facing me, but I still never connected. What a pathetic showing.
As I stood there scanning the water, I saw an utterly gigantic carp.
It was, without question, a state record class fish. It was around 60-feet away from me, but it turned broadside and I saw it’s entire length reflect the sun’s light. What struck me was the sheer distance from its belly to its dorsal fin.
It was so large that the thought of being in the water with it seemed almost creepy.
But, if that mutant carp had swum by me, you can bet your ass I’d have taken that shot and figured out a way to get down to the water, barbed wire be damned.
I’m going to use onX to determine some potential access point and, despite the ridiculously long drive, I need to go back soon.
I’ve got to admit, it was exciting to see all the massive fish today, but missing nearly everything left a really bad taste in my mouth. Bittersweet.
