The shad run up the Cape Fear River is a sign that warm weather and good fishing are on the way. Here’s how to make the most of a trip to Lock & Dam No. 1.
Capt. Jot Owens’ mood changed as soon as he topped the bluff and the Cape Fear River became visible, spilling over a nearly 100-year-old dam.
The rushing water below Lock and Dam No. 1 near Riegelwood was the sign he was looking for, forecasting good shad fishing.
“Oh boy, this is just what I was hoping for,” Owens said. “The water level is just about perfect. By bringing Jeremiah’s bay boat instead of my jonboat, we can set up out in the middle of all this whitewater and fish a big area. We should catch some shad today.”
Capt. Jeremiah Hieronymus was already getting his boat ready to back down the ramp and stowing fishing tackle; he was almost as excited as Owens.
“Man, this should be good,” Hieronymus said. “I’ve been waiting for these conditions, and I’m ready to get on with it.”
As Hieronymus eased the boat away from the ramp and headed to his intended fishing spot about 100 yards away, Owens tied a cinder block to a nylon line to use as the anchor.
“The bottom here is rocky and full of snags,” he said. “If you drop a regular anchor here, you probably won’t get it back. This should fall in one of the holes and hold us fine. Besides, it was only a couple of dollars, and if we break or lose it, it isn’t a big deal.”
Once in position just below the water pouring over the dam and roughly in the middle of the river, Owens and Hieronymus began rigging small spoons and shad darts. Their instructions were simply to cast out and let the current carry the lure downstream, then vary the retrieve at a slow-to-medium speed to find a speed the shad liked.
Owens struck paydirt first. On his fourth cast, his ultralight rod bent double and began pulsing. He worked to regain the 6-,pound line, and a struggling shad boiled the water several times as it resisted. Several minutes later, he swung a nice hickory shad over the gunwale, and his broad smile widened.
Owens removed the small hook and eased the shad back across the rail and into the rushing water. It sprinted away none the worse for its momentary encounter.
Excited shouts echoed from a line of boats resting beside the bulkhead that separates the downriver lock entrance from the main flow of the river across the dam. The boats were anchored in calmer water, with fishermen casting out into the current. At least one fisherman in every boat was holding a bent rod. One lifted a double of squirming shad into his boat, and a challenge of “Let’s see you do that,” resonated across the rumbling river as he taunted his friends.
“Whoa, this one is excited,” Hieronymus suddenly said
Hieronymus had one end of a line, and a shad doing its best tarpon imitation had the other. Never mind the shad was only a pound or so, it put a big bend in Hieronymus’ ultralight outfit and had his undivided attention. The shad jumped numerous times as it tried to spit the hook and reminded everyone why many fishermen affectionately refer to them as a “Poor Man’s Tarpon.”
After a while, Owens and Hieronymus agreed the shad appeared to be coming upriver in waves. For a few minutes, the fishing would be hot and heavy, then there would be a pause and shortly after, fish again. That wasn’t always bad, as it allowed time to straighten rigs, grab a bite of a sandwich or take a sip of a drink.
By mid-morning, a dozen boats were fishing in the immediate area, and about that many more fishermen were casting from the banks. Anyone who wanted shad for dinner wasn’t having difficulty filling their 10-fish limit. Several fishermen also put out rigs for stripers and catfish, which are known to follow the shad to the dam.
Once fishermen were spread along the river, the waves of shad could be easily seen. First, the fishermen farthest downstream would be holding bent rods, and then upstream rods would dip like a wave circling a football stadium. All the while, shad were hitting the small jigs and spoons with abandon as they worked their way to the dam. Bent poles, broad smiles and jumping shad were the orders of the day, and everyone was perfectly content to follow those orders.
As spring approaches, American shad move in from the ocean and begin to roll upstream in coastal rivers to spawn. An anadramous fish — it can live in saltwater and freshwater — shad runs have been prized for hundreds of years up and down the east coast, and many of North Carolina’s rivers experience one annually, normally just ahead of the spring run of striped bass.
Shad move upriver in March and April until they find their way blocked by a dam or find the spot where they themselves were spawned. They don’t feed on their trip upstream, concentrating more on reproducing. Despite that fact, they will aggressively grab small flies, shad darts and spoons like there’s no tomorrow. The smaller males arrive first to scout out spawning territory, with the egg-laden females a few days behind.
Shad provide some great early season fishing for anglers who have been waiting for decent weather to herald the arrival of other, more-desired gamefish. On the other hand, shad were once prized as a food fish, especially when smoked, and their roe was and is still considered a delicacy by some. That makes a female, which can reach four pounds, a real reward for a day on the
water.
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