A long time bucket list of mine had been to participate in a fly-in fishing trip to northern Canada, and in the early part of June last year, I was able to finally check it off. If you are unfamiliar with these endeavors, they are all pretty much the same concept. Drive as far north into Canada that roads will take you, hop on a float plane to any of the hundred remote outpost camps on any of the million lakes up there and start fishing. As long as you can keep from being devoured by a bear, trampled by a moose or suffocated by a swarm of ruthless, evil, hate filled bugs…you will no doubt catch more fish than you can possibly imagine. Besides the obvious appeal of fishing for a week straight, the biggest pull for me was how remote these locations are. You’re out on your own, miles and miles from civilization, surviving off only the gear you bring in and the game you catch (sorry…no “keep em’ wet” happening there) all the while taking in nature that hasn’t been completely altered or trodden over by a herd of humans every weekend. It was an awesome experience that I would repeat in a heartbeat with the only negative memory being those damn bugs (pro tip: don’t let them get INSIDE your bug suit…nightmares). But as the resident new guy on this blog, I thought I’d share one of the things I’d do differently if I were to partake in such an adventure again; my approach and plan for catching fish. I’ll break it out for you.
Where we were fishing:
As with the vast majority of water in northern Canada, the two major species we would be pursuing (and living off of) were walleye and pike, of which I have very little experience fishing for. The particular body of water we were on consisted of a decent sized river opening up to a 7 mile by half mile lake with two other rivers that exited on the other side. Our outpost was located at the mouth of the river feeding in, and I was told that we would be spending most of our time around there for walleye and in the river and its tributaries for pike. The walleye were known to hang by structure in water anywhere from 10 to 20ft with pike patrolling the edges and shallow tributaries. We also would be taking a crazy adventurous day trip, 15 miles up river to a set of falls that are known for holding monster brook trout (trout rule, ‘eyes drool!).
How I planned on catching fish:
At the point I was planning for this trip, I had fully converted my fishing techniques to the fly and had all but rid myself of anything relating to gear fishing. I knew pike would be easy. I would treat them like hyper aggressive trout, slap some wire on the end of my leader and throw big, gaudy streamers at them. Walleye were another story. They aren’t known to be a regular target for most fly fisherman and finding large quantities of information on how to go about it was difficult. But the Internet is full of crazy people like myself and I was able to find enough articles to put a plan in place. My idea was this: I’d set up an 8/9wt rig with a long-headed 300gr sink tip line and tie up a bunch of weighted
leech and clouser patterns with colors ranging from black/purple to chartreuse/orange. I figured that if after I cast out as far as I could, I gave the fly ample time to sink before slowly stripping it in, I’d be close enough to the target depth to get in walleye range. Solid plan right? I should note, my father-in-law, who has been on countless number of trips to this lake, and would be with me on this one, thought I was a fool to only bring a fly rod. So much so, that he went out and bought me a spinning gear combo package so that I’d be guilt ridden into bringing gear with me. He wasn’t taking any chances as I’d be part of the equation of whether he ate dinner or not each night. What’s that they say about listening to those that have gone before you in life?
How it turned out:
Yea…not nearly as well as I thought and I was grateful for that spinning gear. The big thing I forgot to factor in was that I’m a novice who, at the time, couldn’t cast to save his life (an accurate metaphor given the circumstances) nor understood the fish or environment I was fishing in. Let’s break this down:
-When you are a very inefficient at casting, a 300gr line with heavy flies is not only a bear to control, but will wear you out lickety split. Add in that I’m a walking stick figure with a career that emphasizes typing speeds over strength, and I was well worn out after a full day behind my rig. This made my accuracy and distance garbage and I spent more time out of the fishy zone than in it.
-I was the only guy using a fly rod. And since piloting an outboard powered boat is near impossible while casting one, that meant the speed and positioning of said boat was almost always in favor of the hardware guys. When trolling, I couldn’t cast fast enough to accurately hit my zones or keep my fly deep enough if we were in walleye territory. When holding still, we were usually out far enough that I had to muster up monster casts to get to where the fish were. Again, my weak casting did not help me here. We had a 5th guy lined up to go with us that is a fantastic fly fisherman which, had he not had to bail at the last second, would have made this a moot point. But if if’s and but’s were candy and nuts, oh what a Christmas it would be. I was going to a camp designed around hardware…not sure what I expected.
-I didn’t tie nearly as flashy patterns as I should have. The water levels were abnormally high and strong winds had the water very cloudy. I obviously could not have predicted this, but you should prepare for everything on a trip like this. The only places I had any success were in the tributaries were the water was clear or low. But the name of the game that week was either motion (more than an articulated streamer can provide) or flash, neither of which my patterns overly excelled at. This was the most obvious the day we spent at the falls. I was the first in the water and on my fourth cast landed a real nice brookie on a white boogieman pattern. At last, I thought, it’s my time to shine! That was the last fish I caught that day. My boogieman was crusty leftovers in the eyes of the trout once they saw the Mepp’s my uncle’s were throwing. And they could cast them farther and faster than I could ever dream of. They put up some impressive numbers of some of the biggest brook trout I’ve seen and left me with my one measly fish and a sore shoulder on the boat ride home.
Did I catch fish on my fly rod? Is the pope catholic? I hooked up with plenty of hammer
handled size pike and even proved my theory correct with a few walleye. But I had to work my butt off to get them while my companions were kicked back slaying them one after another (literally) with spinning gear. And believe me…they let me know it. I eventually gave up and just switched to my spinning rod. I still refused to jig or troll…what a boring and uninvolved means of fishing. But I ended up having a fantastic time ripping stick baits for pike and spoons or spinners for walleyes and ended up with the record for most consecutive fish per cast by going 10 for 10 on pike one night. Quick side note here…the pike in that lake were some of the most aggressive, brutal predators I’ve seen. If it moved, it was food. They would come up and take chunks out of walleye we had on stringers and I swear to you, one even smashed a Rapala that was covered in a foot of weeds. Made for some fun times…but nature, you scary….
What I’d do differently:
Obviously, get better at casting. It’s coming up on a year since that trip and although I’m far from being Paul Maclean, I’ve made big improvements in this category thanks to some relentless backyard practicing and some great guidance from a friend. I also think I’d upgrade my fly rod. Over the summer I switched my Redington Crosswater 6wt over to a Mystic Reaper and it made a world of difference in my casting, especially for large streamers. I think if I did the same for my big streamer rod (combined with even more practice) I’d have a better time at it. But maybe I’m just looking for an excuse to have three Reapers in my collection. Also, I think I’d focus all time with my fly rod on hunting trophy pike and just be happy if a walleye randomly hits my fly. For walleye, I’d upgrade my spinning gear, chuck heavy spinners with ease and be happy doing it. Or pack in some steaks and leave the monotonous task of working a jig to others. Finally, I’d bring along a better assortment of flies. And I’m not talking about anything super fancy here…did you read the part about that pike hitting a grass covered lure? But maybe a little something more to get their attention and mix it up like some floating frog/mouse patterns or a pack of flashabou tied to a hook. That’d get it done.
So at the end of it all, these shortcomings with my fishing strategy by no means took away from an awesome trip. For that matter, it’s made me realize that living in Michigan, I’m limiting myself…just a bit…by swearing off gear fishing for life. The fall salmon run for instance has all be written off for me since I’ve given up the ol’ chuck n’ duck. So I think this September, IF the salmon come back up the river and I have an opportunity to get in there and battle it out, I’ll be throwing plugs and hot n’ tots instead of streamers and eggs. OK no joke…it was really hard to type that. But I’m trying to be open-minded and I promise I won’t be petitioning for this blog to be renamed michiganflyandgear.com. Fly or die people. But, in the meantime, I’m going to go look at pictures of steelhead sized brook trout, Bob Ross level Canadian sunsets and Fireball stealing in-laws to remind me of an incredibly memorable trip…and to keep practicing casting. So hey ya’ hosers, keep some tight lines eh?
A couple years ago I was on a streamer trip with friend Joe Donati. It was a day in late May and the weather was warm and overcast with water a bit up and stained, perfect for pulling bugs. Joe had landed a few nice trout and we came into a straightaway with grass tight to the bank. I was rowing and Joe noticed a trout shoot completely out of the water for some right along the bank. We dropped anchor mid-river and watched for a bit as more fish along the bank proceeded to come flying out of the water with reckless abandon. We soon realized they were going after damsels hovering near the grass. We sat there for a while just watching one after another taking shots at these bugs that were obviously driving the trout mad. Neither of us had anything remotely similar to a damsel so Joe just went with a hopper pattern and was able to get one to go. I took some video that really doesn’t do the moment justice but worth sharing.
After telling Bob this story that evening he laughed and said that he’d just taken the two or three damsels he had parked in his dry fly box out because he never thought he’d get a shot at fishing them.
If you’ve been living off the grid for the past couple years and haven’t seen this amazing video of trout crashing damsels then check this out.
“Being stupid should be painful” – Unknown
This past weekend’s trip I was reminded of a very valuable lesson that I have learned many times over throughout my years of fishing. It is a lesson that I have shared with many people, both experienced and new in relation to their level of experience. I committed a cardinal sin and didn’t have my head in the game the entire day while fishing. As a result I paid dearly for it.
We got on the river around 8:30 AM and within the first 30 minutes into the day I was into what I thought at first was a steelhead. The bobber on my indy rig dropped, I quickly set the hook and something big and heavy began to move. At that moment a familiar feeling of elation quickly overwhelmed me as line began to quickly peel out of my left hand and come tight to the reel all in the matter of about 4 tenths of a second.
The feeling of elation quickly turned into grave disappointment when I realized all that had happened is that I had inadvertendly dislodged a piece of lumber from the bottom of the river, and it immediately was caught in the current, displaying many of the same characteristics as a hooked steelhead. In my frustration I immediately started to “horse” the log in so I could unpin it and get back on with my day. The stress placed on my rod was substantial and quickly resulted in the rod snapping with a sound similar to that made by the .22 caliber gun my father used to hunt small game with in the days of my youth.
So, it wasn’t a fish, I broke a rod, and now I have to walk up 144 steep and icy steps back to the truck to re-rig another rod? Now I’m pissed, but mentally chalked it up to some sort of necessary penance required by the Fish God’s – a toll I’d gladly subject myself to if it resulted in a great day of fishing.
Only it didn’t result in that.
On a river that I know relatively well that had been holding several steelhead as of late, in several cases being the first angler through sections of particular runs, with a good selection of proven flies would usually result a decent outing. All it resulted in for me throughout the day was losing about $467 worth of flies lost and a helluva of a lot of knot tying. I’d rather have walked down to the river, opened my wallet, pulled out $467 and thrown it straight into the river (from the top, not the bottom of those damned stairs of course), and turned around and went home.
After about 7 hours of no fish encounters, Dan questioned whether or not I had the correct depth set on my indicator – stating that I might not be fishing a run not quite deep enough. At this point my head was someplace else other than focusing on what I should have been, I was more or less going through the motions. I turned to Dan and assured him that I had the correct depth and to further prove my point I said “watch, if I cast a few feet closer I’ll drag bottom”.
Upon casting in closer to me the bobber lurched towards the river bottom as I had previously, indicating that my rig was set too deep for the water I was fishing. I turned to Dan and smugly said “see, I told you”.
My confident assertion was met by him emphatically screaming “FISH!”. I quickly turned around and quickly recognized my bobber nearly a foot below the river’s surface, screaming towards the opposite bank with a large silver steelhead not far in front of it.
I lifted the rod and came tight on the fish. The physical attachment to that fish lasted about as long as my mom’s apple pie at a family dinner. All because I was being an idiot and not paying attention, it was over as quickly as it started.
Instead of having an opportunity to land a beautiful January steelhead and erase all of the hardships THAT I CAUSED myself during the day, I added to it because I committed the substantial crime of not having my head in the game at all times.
I’ve been really fortunate to be a witness and active participant in seeing and experiencing a number of really great fish this year. While I really enjoy chasing after all fish species, brown trout has a special allure for me. Seeing a big brown trout make it into the net is an awesome experience and sharing that moment with pals in the boat makes it all the better. Here’s a look at this years fish that I had the privilge to witness first hand.
For the second consecutive year I commished a fantasy football league filled with a bunch of fish heads. A motely crue cast of charachters all bound together by our strong affinity to chase fish. I quickly found out that there is 1 thing these yahoos take as serious as fishing, fantasy football!
I spent most of my season last year getting repeatedly curb stomped but had a good time doing it as the near daily trash talk added good commentary to give me quick breaks from my work day. This year, I decided I’d spice up some of the weeks by publically calling out particular opponents on weeks I faced them and challenge them to a “side bet” of sorts. Well, unfortunately for me those curb stompings from last year carried into this year and it didn’t go well for me.
Throughout this I discovered I may have a bit of a repressed gambling problem, as the typical wager was 3 articulated streamers and each week I lost I would just double down the next week to try and win some bugs back. Let’s just say I burned through a lot of materials this year.
However, thats not where my punishment ends. Oh no…that’d be way to easy. My poor decision making and inability to set a good roster of players continues to punch me square in the throat.
Twice this year I lost to Jeff from Fly Fish the Mitt and had to contribute to his already loaded streamer box. Being that I was going to be fishing with him on this past Sunday morning, I worked late into the night spinning up a version of Galloup’s Boogie Man.
Jeff, not one to shy away from rubbing a bit of salt in a pal’s wound decided he would immediately lace one of his winnings up and fish it right out of the gates on our streamer escapade. I quietly chuckled to myself as I sat in the rowers seat and watched him struggle with the bug getting fouled around itself, as it appeared that I unintentionally provided him with a “dud” that had too much space between the hooks and not enough beads to prevent the hooks from becoming entangled with one another during casting. “Serves him right” I thought – but of course outwardly I appeared apologetic. “Jeeze man, I’m really sorry. I thought I tied those perfectly.”
A simple adjustment, opening the loop of this cast up a bit, allowed him to accurately sling the bug without it getting tangled. No worries, the color combination is surely not one we’ve ever seen work in this particular river – he even commmented on it himself.
That’s when the throat punches started rolling in. On his first shift he brought a few fish to hand. Then on his second shift, Mike Tyson punched me square in the neck and this fish decided this terribly tied bug looked good enough to eat.
He continued to fish the fly for the entire day and of course landed not only by far the largest fish of the day, significantly more fish than I did as well. Wasn’t it enough that I just paid my dept and suffered the humilation of proclaiming my Fantasy Football superiority only to be embarrased?
Stay tuned for the report following me paying my bet to Dan, as I practically have to row him around the river the whole day without me even fishing. Fantasy Football sucks.
The 2015, and 4th rendidtion Bass 1fly (B1F) is in the books. First, let’s take a moment to remember those with their names already etched on the back of the Duke & Lily Cup:
2012 – Jeff Cole
2013 – Dan Moser
2014 – Joe Donati
This year the angler group doubled in size, going from 9 to 18. This meant that we’d have to split up into 2 different stretches of river – 3 boats/9 anglers in 2 beats. The competition was close for quite sometime – but after about the 1/2 way mark became a 2 horse race between to guys in the same boat.
Drew Peklo ended the event with 12 smallmouth landed and the next closest angler was Erich Gross with 8. Erich manages the Grand Rapids Nomad Anglers fly shop (NOMAD’S Website) and Drew mans the counter there from time to time as well. You might want to shoot them an email, or better yet stop into the shop and ask them both what they’re eating for breakfast before they fish!
The last few years we have dealt with severe high water events that have prevented my father from being able to spend much time on the river with me in the spring chasing steelhead, this year has been a nice break from the historical high flows and has allowed us to spend much more time together.
High hopes for a huge day quickly dissipted after we walked up and down the river searching for a decent spot to begin our day, only to be met with enormous amounts of traffic from other anglers. While its great to see so many people out enjoying the resource, there are days that solitude is preferred.
We spent most of the day hanging out on the bank of the river together having great conversation, exploring topics we would never speak of in front of mom, we also formulated exact resolutions to all of Michigan footballs recent woes – in case Jim Harbaugh reads this, feel free to call us for some free advice.
Eventually, we were able to settle into a run and our patience was quickly rewarded with finding a few willing players – landing 2 solid fish in a matter of minutes.
Sure, it was nice to be able to bring a few fish to hand, as they were the reason that brought us to the river – but, the fish were just a bonus. It’s these days of being in the presence of the man that sparked my passion and constantly encourages me that make steelhead fishing and spring so special.
My brother is a very busy person with an occupation that requires a great amount of attention and effort. He also is an exceptionally devoted father and husband that spends most of his little free time with his family. He does have hobbies and passions – fishing for steelhead used to be one of them.
Nearly 7 years ago, he and I choose different passions to focus our free time energy allotment into. As young men our father had introduced us to the outdoors, and taught us many great lessons – using hunting and fishing as the text books of his classroom. My brother with limited time to enjoy outdoor activities choose to hyper-focus his attention into hunting, it’s obvious what I decided to pour my free time into.
We figured out that it had been nearly 7 years since my brother joined my father, whom still splits his time between sitting in trees and standing in rivers, and myself on a fishing excursion. This year everything finally fell into place, our schedules all synched and my brother expressed renewed interest and excepted an invitation to join us.
A few days of planning and coordination only added to my own anticipation to spending a day on the water with my father and brother as we had done so many times long ago. I was excited to have the gang back together, and it became obvious on Friday night that my brother shared the same sentiment.
We met at my house early Saturday morning and loaded my 2 man inflatable raft, and my fathers 1 man toon. After a quick double check of the gear inventory we were off.
My brother, a talented outdoorsman – actually he is talented at anything he chooses to do (don’t tell him I said that though) – jumped right back into the game, as if he hadn’t even left it.
A mere minutes into the float, my brother was able to hook and land his first steelhead in a long time. Years of memories of he and I tagging along with dad, stumbling around on creek banks in oversized waders and packs weighted down by several sandwiches and extra clothing packed by mom, came rushing back. It was again the way it always was, it was familar.
This was familar to me as well.
What was unfamilar for me was the food. As many of you have already gathered, both by my past posts and my growing waist line, I enjoy good food. On most occassions, I am the coordinator of the riverside lunches. Cooking for others is a gift given to me by my mother, a wonderful cook that always makes certain every meal is carefully prepared and can be enjoyed by everyone present. However, on this day I reluctantly relinquished my typical duty of going to great lengths to make sure that even if the fishing sucks, at least there is a great bankside meal to look forward to. My brother spent much of the day prior, when not filling his flask with scotch or looking for gear that hadn’t seen the light of day in many years, prepping a feast.
We ENJOYED pork that had been in his smoker for much of the previous day, bacon wrapped BBQ venison tenderloin bites, and homemade baked beans, (once again, please don’t tell him) a meal far better than anything I’ve put together on the river before. Unlike many days I’ve spent on the river, we didn’t need a hot meal to lift the spirits of the group.
The rest of the day featured a few more shots at fish, and of course getting back to our roots, good natured competition and ribbing ensued. As I was the only one to not be able to capitalize on an opportunity, it was a 2 horse race between my two companions. Those two would make a competition out of anything – especially when outside of the supervison of mom.
It sounds cliche’ at times, but this day truly was not about the fish – they were simply the excuse for us 3 to be back together enjoying the outdoors together as we had so many times before. It was great to be in their presence again.
My son is growing up fast and the signs are starting to show that he’s gearing up to be an independent little dude. Those days of getting a hug before school in front of his friends or after a baseball game are gone. We do have our times though, and fishing together happens to be one of them. A short window of opportunity opened this past weekend so we both jumped at the chance to run out for a few hours. It was one of those quick trips that finds me in a mad scramble for gear and wondering whether I forgot something during the entire ride up. Things were forgotten but we had what we needed to set out.
We had time to fish only a couple runs so I was happy to see the one I had in mind was open when we walked up. He’s been tying some flies lately and we picked one he tied last spring during high water, a black rabbit strip leech over an orange estaz body.
It didn’t take long before a nice fish was hooked. He did a solid job of fighting the steelhead, knowing when to reel and when to let the fish run.The fish was fairly compliant and after a few runs in the pool I was able to get a net under him.
The fish was a clean, nicely colored male steelhead. We’ve had our share of fishless outings so it felt great to see him bring a nice fish to the net in one of those moments when a lot of things could easily go wrong but didn’t.
We took a couple quick photo’s and released the fish to finish it’s work over the course of the next few weeks as the spring spawning period kicks into high gear. Afterward we made some half-hearted attempts at another knowing we got what we wanted out of our afternoon. We found a river rock to memorialize the day as we always do then made our way back to the car talking about cedars and trying to find the best tree to build a tree fort in so that we can live near the river permanently. Often times the highlights of a fishing trip are just the twizzlers and orange soda we eat and drink on the way up and back. This trip had a bonus fish and some good ideas on where to build our dream home.
We are fortunate in Michigan that we have the ability to target so many different fish in varying types of water on the fly. The opportunities here are seemingly endless in regards to the species we can catch and the type of water we can catch them in. In my opinion, the 2 greatest sport fish we have available are Steelhead and Large Brown Trout. I have, over the years, waivered back and forth as to my answer to the question: “if you could only pick one fish to fish for, what would it be?” So, I thought I’d weigh out many of the deciding factors that go into it for me. These attributes are just my opinion on the matters – would love to hear what everyone else has to say about it though!
|It’s reasonable to expect that you would be able to find a brown trout pretty much all 12 months out of the year. Great Lakes steelhead are typically only available from October through April (sometimes May). Edge Brown Trout|
|Photogenic qualities||This is a really tough one for me – giant slabs of buttery goodness are not exactly a dime a dozen, but steelhead go through several unique transformations of coloration and composure once they enter the rivers. In a close call, I’ve got to say Edge Steelhead|
|Watersheds found in||
|Most of the rivers that steelhead can be found in will also hold a population of large brown trout. However, there are several areas that browns are found in that steelhead don’t have access to, including some of the most beautiful/pristine stretches of river this state has to offer. Edge Brown Trout|
|As the saying goes, the tug is the drug when it comes to steelhead. While I will admit that the ‘jolt’ a steelhead on a swung fly is exciting, for me the visual experience of catching a big brown on a pulled streamer or on a dry fly can’t be matched. Watching a buttery brown propel itself towards the boat at Mach5, and open its mouth to inhale a streamer makes me weak in the knees. Edge Brown Trout|
|Tactics they are targeted with||
|Swing and bobber fishing for Steelhead vs. Pulling streamers and dry fly fishing for Browns. I’m an extremely visual person and watching a bobber all day while visual, is far less interactive than pulling a streamer or manipulating your line for a drag free drift of a dry. Edge Brown Trout|
|The Fight||This one isn’t even close. Rarely, in my experience will a brown put up nearly the fight or require the amount of skill to land once hooked that a steelhead requires. Edge Steelhead|
|Uggggghhhhh…..steelhead brings people out of the woodwork, people come from all over the country to experience the great fishery we have. Many people you encounter will be utilizing questionable tactics as well. You’ll often times spend as much time searching for a spot to actually fish than you will fishing. Edge Brown Trout|
|Success Rates||Steelhead, when they are available are for the most part more easily caught than large brown trout. Steelhead success rates are measured in #’s, browns are measured in inches. Being that steelhead are typically easier to encounter – Edge Steelhead|
|Tying the Bugs||
|Steelhead fly tying, whether it is for swinging or nymphing gets very monotonous, it feels like full on production mode. Tying streamers for trout allows me to flex the minimal creativity that I possess, and I enjoy it. Not to mention you only need a few streamers and a few dries and you’re all set. Edge Brown Trout|
January got off to a good start – steelhead fishing with Dan.
Streamer Fishing in January can’t work – can it?
#somestreamerchick backs up a boat and wins an award.
Fly Fish the Mitt comes back into the fold with an awesome new video.
Wait – there’s more from FFM with That Never Happens (I agree by the way). Then the birth of some idiot streamer dude, then he talks about a bunch of dummys that aren’t able to identify a Hennie flat. (what a bunch of losers)
Rich at Trout on the Fly wraps up his Arkansas trip HERE
Kent at Gink hauls some water or water hauls or does something to make you a better caster. Louis talks first rods – need to check this out for sure! Koz discusses the danger that is intruding on the Great Lakes (eff off big head carps!)
Drink your PBR in style – #glassisnotdead
Not freshly minted this week, but is only a few weeks old and a really touching read at Rivers of Reckoning
Early 2015 has been vastly different than this time last year. Most everything was on complete lockdown last year, temps hovering in the single digits, with no end in sight. While 2015 hasn’t been spectacular by any means from a weather standpoint, it has still afforded a few opportunities to fish and not deal with frozen guides, anchor ice, and misery.
We decided to go against the grain a bit and pull streamers last weekend instead of making the logical choice and fishing steelhead on a smaller river system. This of course goes against conventional wisdom, as the conditions were far from ‘ideal’ for a good streamer bite.
Things started off better than expected when my Olive Boogie Man streamer got thumped in a deep run, I came tight – immediately putting a significant bend in my rod. I felt a few hard head shakes and then nothing – we never saw the fish, but we were encouraged by the relatively immediate action. Shortly after that Jeff from Fly Fish the Mitt, and streamer guru (he has a serious addiction that most likely requires an intervention – but who am I to ruin what I consider a good thing?) had a shot at a serious trout from a likely lie, but somehow did not get any hooks in him.
Then nothing…………..for many hours……………..it had already been better than we expected, but the early returns on our investment were overly encouraging and nearly set us up for failure as we immediately forgot that water temps were near 33 degrees, low and clear, and it was January!
Shortly after parking the boat and having a mid river chat with another group of pals that had launched shortly before us, things started to pick up once again.
Jeff narrowly avoided disaster while trying to net this fish – we both had lost track of where we were in relation to the bank and just as I begun lifting the fish towards the net, Jeff noticed that we were a mere feet away from going broadside into a log/tree combo that would have potentially caused havoc.
Soon after that Jeff put together the most productive, unproductive shift of the day. In streamer fishing there are several ‘near misses’ or ‘what could have beens’ or ‘if onlys’ – times where fish either commit to your pulled bug and don’t get pinned, or they give chase only to turn away and go back to their deep water haunts. The thrill of the chance, from multiple perspectives, is what keeps me wanting more and coming back. One fish in particular was summed up eloquently by Jeff as, “I seriously feel like I just got intimate with that fish”. 2 great fish and nothing to show for it.
It was nearing the end of the day, and the 30 min timer had just gave notice that it was time for me to stop casting and to switch the rower’s seat. Jeff insisted that I spend 5 more minutes casting before we switched, after a back and forth exchange with me arguing that I had enough and it was his turn to fish, he won and I ‘had to’ keep fishing. I buried the very next cast into a small twig that barely broke the surface of the water – further expounding my desire to sit in the comfy rower’s seat, put my mittens on and enjoy the rest of the float. After Jeff’s encouraging to do everything in my power to shake the bug loose and not disturb the water, I was able to finally free it. Then on the very next cast this happened:
This undoubtedly should have been Jeff’s fish – not mine. Hell, he even did more work than I did to catch it. He rowed us across the river, he put me in the correct spot, he encouraged me to make a smart decision, and then netted the fish for me.
Streamer fishing is similar to what I understand drug addictions to be – users are always chasing that first high that they experienced. I’ve already set my self up for failure for the next several times I get out to pull streamers, as I am convinced that everytime out I will have the exact same experience – or better. And I will do everything I can to chase that feeling again. It’s a good thing that Jeff is the only one that is an addict here.
2014 was a great year spent in the outdoors. Here are a few pics wrapping up the year that was:
After the longest lay off from fishing that I can remember in my life, the weather finally broke enough and my schedule permitted an opportunity to spend time with Jeff from Fly Fish the Mitt in his new boat, with he and Joe.
Surprisingly, the traffic was exceptionally light and the bite was fantastic for the vast majority of the day. All of our rods got a full work out.
The fat kid (me) forgot the food, Joe hooked us up and saved the day before it even began. With water temps still brutally cold, and the air temps not helping the situation throughout the day, we were hoping for the best, but not anticipating the day that unfolded.
The net stayed busy throughout the day. It was nice to meet new finned friends.
Encountered this gem of a video this morning (Thanks for sharing on Facebook Koz). I die a little each day that I’m not here.
Alright – who’s going to be there? I will be manning the Mystic Rods booth with Dennis (and probably a few others) both days. Come by, shoot the bull, cast a rod, give me a high five…whatever you want man.
We are blessed with amazing outdoor resources in the Great Lakes region – and throughout the entire United States. These resources provide us with endless amount of entertainment, joy, and a life time of memories through our experiences with them. These watersheds breathe life into each of our individual souls and provide us with an opportunity to travel back in time to days gone by. As well, the rivers, creeks, and lakes all give life to entire ecosystems, providing essential habitat, nourishment, and other life essentials to all of nature.
A disturbing trend that seems to become more prevalent each year is the misuse, disrespect, and intentional harm that is done to these resources by those that enjoy them the most. I typically hold fly fisherman in high regard in the sense of being care takers and protectors of the water – although I do know of and have witnessed examples of individuals toting fly gear being chief offenders in causing harm. Whether or not you already do what you can to ensure that our waterways remain pristine – there is always something more that we can do to help.
I know there is more that I can do to help protect our water resources as well. So here’s my plan for the year, and I would appreciate your help by having a plan of your own – or giving me suggestions of what more I can personally do.
- No more silent disagreement. If I see someone doing something that is harmful – offer gentle encouragement to discontinue the activity.
- Get involved in watershed counsels. These are great ways to learn about the watersheds and how they are impacted by a number of factors – both man made and environmentally.
- Pack more out than I pack in. Make an effort to seek out trash and fishing related remnants (fishing line, hooks, etc.) and collect it to properly dispose of it. Yes, everyone should be responsible enough to take care of themselves – but we all know that is not the case.
- Be more conscientious about what I use to transport my food. Last year I posted what I felt was a relatively harmless photo of myself and a few others enjoying a meal on the riverbank – however, someone pointed out that there was an awful lot of plastic products in the picture. He was right – I should be more mindful of how small everyday decisions like choosing plastic bags over taking my own to a grocery store impact the environment around me.
- Participate in River Clean ups – I say I’m going to do it every year, and I never do.
- Make good use of my time – I walk my dog along the river frequently in my non-fishing time. It makes sense to collect trash and other debris while I do this instead of just walking along.
I believe that we are at or nearing a critical moment in regards to protecting our resources. If we don’t take enough action they may not be around for us or future generations to enjoy.
An exceptionally long and brutal winter that has gripped the Great Lakes region for the longest continuous stint I can remember, appears to finally be coming to an end. Soon the rivers and streams won’t be dominated by shelf and anchor ice. This is the time of year that dark and grey skies that spit a rainy/snowy mix that would deter any normal human being from going outside, leave me searching for ways to cut out of work early.
The banks of the river will be littered with tiny black winter stoneflys, and soft inside edges will be filled with the recently hatched offspring of last fall’s annual salmon spawning ritual. The quiet calmness of winter will still grip the forest encompassing the river. This calmness is only temporary though, because chaos can erupt at any time – all silence will be broken by the sound of a screaming reel and a steelhead propelling his perfectly rocket shaped body through the surface of the water, and then splashing back home.
The time is drawing near, and I’m already monitoring the time of day it stays light enough to be able to see an indicator, the 5 day forecast has become more important for me to research than anything I ever studied in college, and an assessment on my “brownie point” bank account has been discussed.
After the longest lapse in between fishing excursions I have ever had to suffer through, I can’t wait.