Fall Solitude

Fall fishing has a way of reminding us why we put up with the heat, bugs, and chaos of summer in the first place. The mornings are crisp, the leaves are glowing, and the fish are feeding up for winter. Best of all, the soundtrack isn’t the shriek of a jet ski or the pounding bass of someone’s party barge—it’s just your reel singing and maybe a goose honking in the distance. The lake finally feels like it belongs to the fishermen again.

During the summer, trying to fish through the onslaught of wake boats feels a bit like trying to play chess on a trampoline. One second you’re working your jig nice and slow, the next you’re surfing a four-foot wave that some wake boat captain thought would look great on Instagram. And don’t even get me started on the jet skis—they always seem magnetically drawn to wherever you’re casting, like moths to a flame, except much louder and way less useful.

But once the temps drop, it’s like they all vanish into thin air, leaving us with smooth water and grateful hearts. No more retying after every rogue wave, no more explaining to a curious jet skier that, yes, hooks are sharp. Just quiet, steady casts, fat fall bass, and maybe even a thermos of coffee that doesn’t spill all over the boat floor. Fall fishing: it’s proof that patience really does pay off—because once the jet skis hibernate, the real fun begins.