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I rented a VRBO in Westport, Washington for the weekend, hoping to catch some new saltwater species — surfperch, greenling, rockfish, and lingcod. There are three main places to target these fish from shore: the beach, the jetty, and the fishing pier.

I was joined by my son‑in‑law Luke, my daughter Meredith, and my grandchild for the weekend. Luke enjoys fishing, but as a Midwesterner I have zero saltwater experience, and he has only a little. On the drive to Westport we stopped at Bass Pro Shops to pick up rods, reels, and tackle suitable for saltwater. We learned about hi‑lo (drop) rigs, pyramid sinkers, and the basic gear we’d need to get started.

The weather was fairly nice — around 55–65°F, partly sunny, with a mild to moderate breeze. The fishing itself, though, was frustrating. Walking the riprap on the jetty was tiring and a bit risky for me at 67, especially since my balance isn’t what it used to be. Both Luke and I had zero bites and lost plenty of tackle to the rocks.

Later in the day I bought waders so I could walk into the surf and try for surfperch, but that didn’t produce anything either. Still, despite the lack of success, we enjoyed being outdoors, soaking up the sunshine, and learning the basics of shore‑based saltwater fishing. Hopefully the knowledge we picked up will pay off next time.

We still have tomorrow to fish, and we’re planning to try the Westport fishing pier in hopes of better luck.

Today I set out hoping to add several new species to my list. I was targeting nine possibilities: Rock Bass, Pumpkinseed, Yellow Perch, Largemouth Bass, Carp, Brown and Black Bullhead, Mooneye, and Goldeye. Ironically, I caught none of those—but I did add a new species, and a fun one at that: the Northern Pike.

My plan was to leave Rochester early and fish multiple locations around Winona and Lake City, essentially making a loop between the three cities. The total distance for the day was about 135 miles: 56 miles from Rochester to Winona, roughly 45 miles along the Mississippi River from Winona to Lake City, and 34 miles back to Rochester.

I got up very early and decided to clean out and organize my tackle box—which had become a mess and even smelled a bit unpleasant. I’d accumulated a surprising amount of lures and tackle over the past month, and it took nearly an hour to sort through everything. Still, it felt like a good, productive start to the day.

I left for Winona around 8:00 a.m. When I arrived, my first stop was Fleet Farm to pick up some nightcrawlers. From there I headed to McNally Landing on the Mississippi River and fished for about 15 minutes without success. I then tried the tailwaters below Lock and Dam #5 for another 30 minutes, but again had no bites.

Next, I decided to head into Winona to fish Winona Lake, mainly targeting Pumpkinseed Sunfish. However, while driving along Prairie Island Road, I noticed a slough off the road that looked like prime Largemouth Bass habitat. I parked, walked down a short hill, and gave it a try.

The slough turned out to be a side channel of the Mississippi River—shallow, muddy, with no noticeable current, and filled with vegetation and fallen logs. Since it was early May, I could fish there comfortably without being overwhelmed by insects. I tied on a relatively small Rapala crankbait and started casting toward the submerged logs, which I’ve always heard are good holding spots for bass and other fish.

After only a few casts, I felt a strong bite, followed by a surprisingly long and powerful fight. To my surprise, it wasn’t a bass—it was a Northern Pike. Unfortunately, just as I got it to shore, it thrashed hard and escaped back into the water. That was a big disappointment, since Northern Pike was a species I still needed for my 100‑species list.

I remembered that using a wire leader with a snap is a good idea when pike are around, to prevent them from biting through the line. I rigged one up, attached a Rapala diving crankbait, and went back to work. About ten casts later, I hooked another Northern Pike.

This time, I landed it successfully and carefully carried it—still on the line—about 20 feet away from shore so I could unhook it and get a quick photo. I was able to measure it as well. It was a relatively small pike, clearly smaller than the one that escaped, measuring 15 inches in length. I tried weighing it with a Rapala scale, but it didn’t register—probably because the fish was too light for the scale. A reasonable estimate would be about 1.5–2.0 pounds.

I fished the slough for another 30 minutes but didn’t get any more bites. From there, I headed to Winona Lake to try again for Pumpkinseed Sunfish. I set up a simple bobber-and-worm rig, but surprisingly got zero bites.

After that, I started driving toward Lake City, stopping for lunch at Reads Landing Brewing Company, about five miles southeast of Lake City. I had a solid burger and one of their home‑brewed beers, which happened to be brewed in Rochester.

My final stop of the day was Lake City, located on Lake Pepin, where I was hoping to catch a Rock Bass. The conditions weren’t ideal—it was very breezy and mostly sunny—and I think that largely shut down the bite. Even so, I did manage to land a Freshwater Drum using a small jig with pink feathers and a worm, fishing it vertically by jigging. The drum measured about 16 inches, roughly the same size as one I had caught the week before at Coralville Lake near Iowa City, and likely weighed around 2.5–3.0 pounds.

In the end, I caught three fish representing two species. While it wasn’t a numbers day, adding the Northern Pike as a new species made the trip well worth it—and left me very satisfied.

I left Atlanta yesterday morning to head home, with a hotel booked in St. Charles, Missouri. On the way out of town, I stopped to fish several spots at Red Top Mountain State Park just north of Atlanta. Despite the beautiful weather, I had absolutely no bites anywhere, which made the day disappointing from a fishing perspective.

Today more than made up for it.

I left St. Charles around 8 a.m. and drove north into Iowa to buy a one‑day fishing license and fish Coralville Lake just north of Iowa City. My plan was to fish both below the dam in the tailwaters and then above the dam.

I started below the Coralville Dam Spillway. It had been sprinkling before I arrived, so I stopped at Scheel’s and bought a raincoat. Naturally, that ended the rain completely. Once I began fishing, there was no drizzle at all. The sun came and went, it was about 55°F, and a breeze made it feel a little chilly.

Roughly five to ten people were fishing along the shore of the tailwaters, along with about five American White Pelicans. One of the pleasures of fishing is that it forces you to slow down and notice things, and watching the somewhat comical pelicans was a highlight. They are enormous birds, with wingspans approaching nine feet. Their bodies are brilliant white with black flight feathers, and their bright orange legs and feet are especially noticeable when they take off, which they did periodically as they moved upstream and downstream searching for fish.

The water pours forcefully out of the base of the dam, creating a very strong current for roughly an eighth of a mile downstream. I was targeting Largemouth Bass, first with a large chartreuse spinnerbait and then with a smaller orange chatterbait. I didn’t get a single bite and quickly lost the chatterbait to a snag.

In addition to the adults fishing, there was a group of about eight kids—probably around ten years old—fishing with literal sticks rigged with line, hooks, and bait that their chaperone was putting on for them. They were catching fish after fish. The fish were tiny, but the kids were thrilled, and it genuinely warmed my heart. At the same time, I was getting frustrated by the complete lack of bites on my end and briefly considered joining them in their panfish frenzy.

Instead, I tied on an approximately two‑inch gray swimbait with a red eye and retrieved it very slowly. Near shore, I got a strong bite. It took some effort to land the fish. At first glance, I thought it was a White Bass—already on my species list—and nearly skipped taking a photo. Thankfully, I decided to document it.

That was when my iPhone informed me that my photo storage was full. I ran back to my car, grabbed my iPad, and took a picture. When I uploaded it to iNaturalist, their AI identified it as a White Bass. Shortly afterward, an identifier with the handle flylinesardine disagreed, suggesting it was actually a Wiper. Another identifier, wes_inc, agreed that it was Wiper, elevating the observation to Research Grade.

I had only recently learned what a Wiper is while preparing for my 100‑fish adventure. A Wiper is a hybrid of a White Bass and a Striped Bass (sometimes referred to as a Striper), a cross that didn’t exist until the 1970s—so it’s not surprising that I initially misidentified it.

After fishing a bit longer in the tailwaters with no additional bites, I moved to the top of the dam to fish the riprap along the face of the dam. Four college‑aged guys were fishing there as well. After about five casts with the same swimbait, I got another strong bite. It took about 20 seconds to land and was clearly a new species for me, though I didn’t know which one.

Once again, my iPhone refused to take photos, so I asked one of the guys—Cameron—if he could take pictures of me with the fish and of the fish alone and email them to me. He kindly did. When I posted the photos to iNaturalist, the AI identified the fish as a Freshwater Drum. Several identifiers agreed, making it another Research Grade observation.

Fishing often leads to easy conversations, and I asked Cameron how long he’d been fishing and whether he and his friends were in college. He told me they all attended the University of Iowa and that he’d been fishing since childhood.

As the sun dropped lower, the others left, and I had the dam mostly to myself. I stayed a while longer, no longer concerned about catching anything, enjoying the birds instead: Purple Martins and other swallows skimming the water, a small kettle of Turkey Vultures soaring overhead, and the onomatopoeic call of a Killdeer nearby.

After a few more casts, I called it quits. It had been a wonderful day.

I spent some time researching Georgia fishing and got excited about the possibility of catching an endemic bass—the Shoal Bass—in the Chattahoochee River in northern Atlanta. A true river bass. That idea alone was motivating enough to push me into action.

The night before, I struggled to get my Georgia fishing license online. After some frustration, I finally completed the process around 11:30 pm.

I got up very early the next morning—around 5:30 am—with the goal of reaching the river by sunrise, which was at 6:53 am and supposedly the ideal time to fish for Shoal Bass. Unfortunately, between Atlanta traffic and my growing frustration over not having the recommended swimbait lures (which Copilot had suggested were effective for Shoal Bass), things didn’t go quite as planned.

I stopped first at a shop that was supposed to have lures but had only bait. Then I tried a Walmart, which unlike some Walmart’s I have been to, had a very poor fishing gear selection. In the end, I bought the one lure that looked remotely like a swimbait and headed to the Chattahoochee anyway, fishing along the Cochran Shoals River Trail.

I started fishing at about 8:00 am. I completely blanked—no Shoal Bass, no bites at all. It was also hard to find really good access points along the river, though I’m not convinced I would have caught anything even with better spots. That said, it was a beautiful morning, and I genuinely enjoyed walking along such a scenic stretch of river.

After no action, I gave up around 11:00 am and decided to head northeast to Lake Lanier in hopes of salvaging the day by catching something.

On the way, I stopped at a Bass Pro Shop in Lawrenceville. Wow. I had spent about ten minutes the night before watching a helpful YouTube video explaining different types of lures—swimbaits, crankbaits, spinnerbaits, spoons, and so on—which helped a little, but standing in the store surrounded by thousands of lures was still completely overwhelming. I grabbed a variety of lures somewhat haphazardly and wished I’d had more time to be more deliberate. Next time.

Lake Lanier is about 45 miles northeast of Atlanta. It was created in 1956 by damming the Chattahoochee River, with the Buford Dam constructed by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers for flood control, hydroelectric power, water supply for metro Atlanta, and recreation. It’s a huge lake—about 38,000 acres, nearly 690 miles of shoreline, and a maximum depth of around 150 feet (average depth closer to 60). It’s also very beautiful.

The lake primarily contains Striped, Spotted, and Largemouth Bass, Black and White Crappie, Channel and Flathead Catfish, and Sunfish. I fished below the dam for about 30 minutes with no bites, then moved up to the main lake above the dam.

I threw a deep‑diving, colorful Rapala lure into the water repeatedly, and for a while it didn’t seem promising. But eventually I caught something. It was clearly a bass, though I wasn’t certain which kind. It wasn’t huge—probably around 12–14 inches—but I was excited nonetheless. When I later identified it using iNaturalist, it turned out to be an Alabama Bass—a new fish for me, and a satisfying way to end an otherwise challenging day.

Fished at Chickamauga Dam in Chattanooga, Tennessee from about 9:00 a.m. to noon. Didn’t catch a lot but I did catch one new species—a Green Sunfish—with a bobber and small red worm.

What a beautiful little fish. Particularly like the torquoise stripes on the face and orange-red tinged ventral and anal fins. It was probably no more than 6 inches long but I was excited to catch it since it was a new species for me. Other than that, I mostly caught Bluegill. I was hoping for Largemouth Bass but didn’t connect with any.

In the afternoon I moved to Booker T. Washington State Park, also in Chattanooga, hoping to add more sunfish species or maybe a bass. I caught several small Bluegill from a pier, but nothing new. I then moved closer to the open part of the lake and fished bobber-and-worm with no luck.

I switched to a Rapala rattling lure with treble hooks and started catching good-sized bluegill. Unfortunately, on the last fish, things went wrong. As I tried to unhook it, the fish thrashed and managed to drive the hook into my left pinky. I couldn’t get the hook out, and every movement was painful. I eventually freed and released the fish—probably the nicest thing I did all day for a creature that had just injured me. I imagine the fish might have thought, Now you know how it feels.

I was left with the lure stuck in my finger and wandered the parking lot asking people if they had wire cutters. The first person didn’t. Then I found a group—one man and two women—and asked again. The man had cutters but became squeamish when he saw the hook. One of the women, probably his wife, stepped up and cut the hook and lure away from my finger. Unfortunately, part of the hook remained embedded. She tried to remove the remainder with pliers, but it was too painful, and I asked her to stop. I thanked them all and decided it was time for the emergency room.

Google Maps directed me to Parkridge North ER, about 6.4 miles away. After a roughly 30-minute wait, they numbed my finger with lidocaine, rinsed with Hibiclens and removed the remaining hook without much trouble. They prescribed Augmentin as an antibiotic (which later gave me quite a bit of GI distress) and sent me on my way. I picked up the antibiotic at a Walgreens across from my hotel—the Drury Plaza—and called it a day.

The next two days would be fishing-free, but I hoped to resume on Monday, April 27, in and around the Atlanta area, where I’d be staying through Thursday morning before heading home to Rochester, Minnesota.

Unlike the previous day, this turned out to be an excellent fishing day.

I drove to Rend Lake, about 30 minutes south of my hotel in Mt. Vernon, Illinois stopping at a bait shop along the way for red worms, nightcrawlers, leeches, and some local advice. The shop owner—a friendly, heavily tattooed man—shared a bit of his life story and mentioned he was worn down and ready for retirement. I enjoyed the conversation, but after a few minutes I headed on, eager to fish.

Following a Copilot recommendation, I started at North Marcum Beach on the east side of the lake. I walked down the riprap to the shoreline and began fishing with a small Mepps spinner. The bite was immediate—I was getting action almost every five casts.

My first fish was a good-sized White Bass, followed by several Yellow Bass, White Crappie, a few Bluegill, and one small American Gizzard Shad identified later on iNaturalist. Every fish was caught on the same Mepps spinner.

After a while, two men approached and apologized before explaining that the area was technically closed to the public. They had opened the gate for their own activity and forgotten to close it, emphasizing that it wasn’t my fault. It explained the nearly empty parking lot, and I was simply glad I’d fished there while the bite was hot.

I then moved to Wayne Fitzgerrell State Recreation Area on the north side of the lake to try for catfish. Using a Santee rig for the first time—rigged with a sliding weight—I hooked two Channel Catfish. The larger was likely at least 20 inches long (about 4.5 lbs by estimate), making it one of the biggest fish I’ve ever caught; the smaller was probably around 3.5 lbs. I also landed a White Crappie and another Bluegill.

With the heat rising and a long drive ahead to Chattanooga, Tennessee, I packed up after about an hour. Rend Lake turned out to be a great stop: roughly 13 fish across seven species, with all but the Bluegill adding new entries to my 100‑species list.

Left the Iowa City hotel around 8:00 a.m. and arrived at Wakonda State Park in northeast Missouri at about 9:30am. I spoke with a park ranger, who suggested a spot to try, though he warned that fishing there hadn’t been very good in recent years. He thought the park might have been overfished during the COVID period when visitation increased dramatically.

I fished for several hours and caught nothing but a sunburn—no bites at all. Eventually I gave up and started driving toward my next stop in Mt. Vernon, Illinois. Not wanting to be completely shut out for the day, I kept my eyes open for any promising water along the way.

I noticed I’d be crossing the Salt River (still in northeastern Missouri) and saw that there was public fishing access called Indian Camp just a couple of miles east of the road. The river was moderately fast-flowing and brownish, but not opaque. I wasn’t sure fish would even be able to see my lure, but I decided to try a Mepps spinner anyway.

I fished from the boat ramp and nearly slipped on the muddy surface, though I managed to keep my footing—at the cost of getting my freshly washed sneakers filthy again. The current pulled my lure downstream quickly, and I worried it wasn’t sinking enough to be effective. Still, I kept casting.

After about twenty casts, I finally got a solid bite. The fish fought fairly hard and turned out to be a Smallmouth Bass, probably in the 1–2 lb range.

While I was fishing, another man arrived hoping to fish for catfish. He seemed concerned that our lines would interfere with each other, so he held off. I told him I needed to get back on the road and that he could have the spot. I still had about three hours to drive to my destination—a Holiday Inn Express in Mt. Vernon—so that ended the fishing for the day. But at least I’d landed one fish to officially start the trip.

Departed this afternoon from home in Rochester, Minnesota for a fishing trip through Missouri, Illinois, Tennessee, and Georgia. Stayed the night in Iowa City. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a long time. My goal is simple: catch as many fish species as possible over the next couple of weeks.

My goal is to catch 100 different fish species. This post marks the beginning of that journey.

I decided to start close to home, at the most familiar body of water I know: Willow Creek Reservoir here in Rochester, Minnesota. Although I haven’t fished much for quite a while, I have fond memories of bringing my daughter and son here when they were about 10 and 8 years old. On those trips we caught tons of panfish, and it seemed like the perfect place to begin.

It was a pleasant spring day—ideal weather to kick off this adventure. My fishing knowledge is pretty superficial, so I kept things simple, fishing with a bobber and worm, along with a spinner lure. My very first fish, caught on a small red worm, was a Bluegill sunfish—an encouraging start.

After that, the bites slowed down. A more experienced fisherman suggested switching to a lure if I wanted to catch crappie. I took his advice, and it paid off. Before long, I had caught several Black Crappie, officially launching my quest for 100 species.