Bananas On Board 

In the not so distant past people were told to head West to seek their fortunes.  Dreams of California gold and the wide open free plains of the central West draw lots of people.  Some were desperate, poor folks others were adventurers seeking what was beyond the Blue Horizon.  Others were driven by impulses beyond their control or understanding.  I don't know the category I fit in at the time but dreams of big trout and deep powder were dancing in my mind.  So I packed up and headed West to find my fortune.  While I did not find any monetary fortune- my experiences were enough to fill a lifetime.  Yes I found big trout and deep powder, amazing people, natural beauty beyond compare but not my fortune.  Whatever my fortune might be it was not found in the West.  

I returned to the Mid West and moved to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan- family in the area, Lake Superior, bitter winters, buggy summers and not a single mountain in sight.  The fishing is well the fishing is great if you want to put in the effort.  Here there are no guide books, waiting in line to launch your drift boat, no well paced paths.  But the fish are there and they are brilliant.  Big bass, starving pike, delicate brookies and many more.  With such an embarrassment of natural wonders you would think people would folk to the area.  Yet the population has been stable for years with like change.  The harsh winters are probably the main cause to keep those less than hearty souls anyway.  Thank god there is little chance this area will turn into trendy resort towns of the west.  

My friends and I have often commented on returning to nature is actually expensive.  Fishing, hunting, camping all those things we most enjoy are not cheap.  They are full of expensive gear, my different ideas on how to best do and little time to do it because many of us are simply working to pay our bills and not that fancy new jacket that will resist rain, cover our scents make us invisible and if the advertising is correct allows you to become the reincarnation of Daniel Boone.  

So I began other cliched journey to fortune and headed to sea for my fortune.  I got my merchant marine credentials, physical, drug test, back ground check and TWIC card.  Applications sent and I got a job on a ore boat traveling the Great Lakes.  A fitting job for somebody living in Marquette with its two ore docks, a Grandfather who put buoys and chartered the lakes and another Grandfather who worked on the ore docks.  

Like most people I started as an ordinary seaman.  The bottom of the barrel.  Cold, dirty, mindless work day in day out.  For over 140 days.  The lakes are amazing, the stars in the middle of the lake are beyond words.  The docks are dirty industrial suck holes that remind of stories about Soviet Union towns.  Its a job not a calling for me on the lakes a means to an end.  What is that end?  Well I am working on it.  Again great experiences and I learned so much.  Much of my time was spent in the engine room and for those that know me well can imagine the challenge it was for me.  Machines are not in my wheel house.  The experience gave me confidence in areas I never thought I would have.  I saw the docks, the routes, the locks that built the great lakes region into what it is today.  The great cities of the midwest owe much to the iron, stone and coal docks on the lakes.  And even more to the sailors that go months without seeing their families and friends.  

There is no time for romance of the sea.  We are on the boat to work.  The colorful language describing life at sea- are done pleasure sailors, imaginative authors and those rare sailors who love the water and the life.  I love the water, the mindless work not so much.  A sailors credentials  and experiences opens many doors. Perhaps that is the sailors fortune.  You make a pretty good living, you cannot spend the money, you are gone for months on end, see amazing sights and if you are lucky they are the keys to your kingdom.  For now I wait for the ice to melt, wait on applications and dream of open water and the Blue Horizon.  And imagine what is was like before GPS when the horizon was truly unknown.  

When it comes to fishing, Michigan is king.  Plain and simple.  If all the fishing was contained in Lake St. Claire, we still would have the best fishing.  Still there is some awesome fishing next door to us.  Wisconsin has the Driftless area.  A small stream trout fisherman's paradise.  It is enjoying a banner year.  When the likes of Lefty Kreh and Dave Whitlock sing the praises of northern Wisconsin smallies you know you have a great fishery.  Hayward and its mighty muskie mania is legendary. 

So, lots of good fishing in Wisconsin.  Lots of it is famous, you know what I am talking about. 

This is not that type of story.  I wanted small stream USA.  County fairs, cow crap, no paths along the banks of the streams and feisty fish.  Opening a Gazetteer it is harder than you would think.  Smallmouth are listed as being in a fraction of the rivers in Wisco.  So I asked around- made some calls and headed out. 

The fishing was great.  Plenty of willing fish, destroying poppers and big enough pike to shred mono tippet.  There were enough decent fish to make the fishing worth it.  Cows, domestic ducks, crows and chipmunks were my companions.  Great conversation though I am certain the cows really enjoyed seeing me get my fly out of trees. 

After spending some much time tying my flies, organizing my pack it was totally refreshing to head out with a single box of flies in my pocket, some tippet and hemostats.  Nothing else- car keys hidden, camera in the car and the bloody cell phone turned off somewhere in the car. 

I drove through some towns.  Ate at an A&W- remember those.  Root Beer (on Tap) out of a frosted mug it was brilliant.  Small town tackle shops that had never seen a fly fishermen in the shop.  And the tail end of a county fair.  The fishing was great, people were friendly and grass was soft to sleep on.  Now if I could just figure out how to do this all the time life would be so choice. 

Anticipation, Humility and Fun



Ice and ore boats- a common sight these days

For weeks now I have been living for May 15- the opener of smallies, pike, walleye, and muskie in the UP.  Rearranging my fly boxes, following the massive fish caught in lower Michigan and Ohio.  Listening to my friend’s brag about all their fish and making fun of me for living in the UP.  Well, I would show them- massive pigs would be landed on the 15th.  So big that the Bassmaster would change over to flies only and big soulless outdoor retail stores would go out of business.  Small fly shops would thrive and those of us who are still dealing with snow and ice in the UP would be rewarded for our strength to make it through a harsh winter.  

 

Pretty as sunshine and as sweet as rain.  Brookie streams are little jems

So a guy can dream, right.  May 15th was snowy, windy and cold.  Still I  was determined no more switch rods, no more eggs, no more swinging.  Stripping streamers, flies that kick hard and maybe even some poppers were the name of the game.  Changing lots of flies- staring into my boxes looking for some eureka moment.  Pounding good looking water.  Praying to the fish gods.  All for one fish.  One fish that would make it all better.  Sometimes that fish is a flash.  A flash of color behind my fly after a long day.  It was awesome.  I was totally happy with the day.  Yea ,I didn’t catch any fish yea my friends will still give me crap for living up here.  But the wind was blowing, the snow was slowly stopping, small deer were running around and I was standing in the middle of a brilliant river with nobody around.  Of all the places that I have lived this is the best place in the world.  The rewards might not be what you want but they will be want you need.  

Water that saved my day or at least my attitude.  Pike flash ain't bad

The next day I pushed in a new area and fished a brilliant little brookie stream.  Eager, fearless little beauties kept me occupied for most of the day.  With the light dying I decided to pack it in. I have already hit a deer this year and a second this early in the year was not in the cards.  All in all, a great two days.  As I am writing this and avoiding work, it is warm and sunny.  My plans for the summer are laid who in OCD detail- lots of new water, so golden oldies and lots more awesome fishing in the UP.  To paraphrase the last Calvin and Hobbes comic- lets go exploring.

New water that is on my list- looks like fun.  Tons of deer, beavers, grouse and hopefully fish

New flies added!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

After numerous requests my confidence flies all in one selection.  Most of your fishing needs will be covered.  A great gift for any angler.  I call this selection my Utility Box.

I am getting so tired of posting pictures of flies.  But if the rumors are true we will be getting up to 50 degrees in the next few days and our chances at fish will increase radically soon.  It is fun though to fish the river mouths and see big ore boats and Coast Guard boats stuck in the ice.  Until that happens fly posts and pictures.

Often when you first start tying flies you get a flash of inspiration and throw a bunch of materials on a hook.  The flies often look awesome but are rarely any good.  In fact, I recently was told that Kelly Galloup has over 80% of his flies fail.  I don't feel so bad anymore but this isn't about making great flies.  Its about having fun at the vice and not really caring about the results. 

With this in mind: Tarpon Toad + Tarpon Snake + GhettoSuperStar + Whiskey = it's gonna be awesome.  I don't care about the results, it looks awesome in my head.  What do you think it will look like in the end? 

CABIN FEVER

According to Webster (that is a dictionary to all you young folk) cabin fever is defined as  extreme irritability and restlessness from living in isolation or confined indoor area for a prolonged time.  

This 2013-2014 Winter has been one for the history books- over 80 days in a row below zero, the Great Lakes Frozen over, heavy shelf ice on all the rivers, people going miles out on Lake Superior to go ice fishing.  Now I know that the ice was probably stable, safe and all but can you imagine the pucker factor when going 20 miles out on Lake Superior.  But it has not been all bad….really.  

 

The skiing has been great, we should have plenty of water for the summer, the dog sled races had plenty of snow, Ice Fest had well plenty of ice, ice caves that haven't formed in years were awesome and runoff is going to be interesting to watch.  Will it come quickly, slowly….never do- not say that.  Even as a Winter lover summer will be a fun time.  That is if we get a summer this year.  Not if we have another epically awful time with ticks, black flies and other biting bastards.  

But I digress.  What happens when you wake up in the middle of night in a cold sweat.  Dude my fly boxes for the summer are empty.  Crack the music, open a Dew and getting tying.  Embrace the fever and tie some flies that is if you are to soft to go outside.  Now where are my fleece pants its going to be cold wading today. 

 

 

 

AFRICA-

A Child’s Dream of toothy critters

Growing up I loved watched nature shows about Africa.   It seemed raw totally primal, so unlike my Midwest surroundings, surely it was another planet.  Being awake for school the next day paled in comparison to reading about the endless Sahara, sweltering Congo jungles, mystic Egyptians, Moroccan horse stables and endless herds - I read late into the night under the covers with a flashlight.  After fly fishing took over being a hunter facing down a charging lion or stalking a water buffalo some what paled in comparison to toothy critters that swim the rivers and lakes.  

There are so many opportunities to fish in Africa: the Nubian salty flats, the Lesotho Three Rivers system, tarpon on the Atlantic side, the Seychelles, the Red Sea, the Nile, the Zambezi- a list that does not end.  Fishing opportunities abound and the more I learn the more I am amazed.  The toothy critters in the water are almost as formidable,  as those that roam the land.  

Tigerfish are brutal looking they make muskie and pike look positively domestic.  The largest of the tigerfish species, the goliath can reach well over 100 pounds while others top out around 40 pounds.  Tigerfish are apex predators they have powerful tails, sharp replaceable teeth and acute eyesight.  While they prefer small fast moving prey (I hope you are  thinking streamers and baitfish flies) prey almost twice as big as themselves is not safe.  Their fellow tigers are not safe cannibalism is not uncommon.  Parents do not let your children play in these waters tigerfish have been documented to attack humans.  

Why fish for them.  They fight dirty, jump high and pull like a pissed off locomotive.   Any fish that chases down a fly and hits it like an A Bomb is a worthy adversary.  Match the hatch your fly should represent the most common forage around at the time and match the light conditions of the day.  Many flies are weighted to get the fish down quickly- it seems tigerfish like rivers that are super pushie.  

Like most people I am fighting cabin fever.  My fly boxes are overflowing and I troll the internet for anything toothy critter related to get my mind off the epic ice still on the rivers.  Even my redfish box is filling up I just tyed a few flies based on the St Simons Scampi for Georgia reds.  But late at night I hear the roar of lions, the bellow of hippos and scary call of hyenas.    Like a kid again I cannot get the majesty of Africa out of my mind: tigerfish, yellowfish, nile perch, bohar snapper, GTs…...

The Black Death Tigerfish Fly is tied by a guide from Tourette Fishing, a great looking outfit in Africa.  It is a relatively easy fly to tie and most materials you will already have.  On the left is the replica and on right my version- someday if I dream big enough I will be able to see which version works best.  Either way it will look good in the mouth of tiger fish.  Enjoy

DREAM ON- Part One

 

Today I talked with an old friend whom I have not seen in years.  During high school and much of college we had  elaborate dreams for travel to exotic places- Nepal, Alaska, Baffin Island, Patagonia, Thailand…. the list does not end.  Lucky for both us we have been able to check off some of these locations sadly none together.  

It got me thinking.  While maybe not as sexy as another country, South  Carolina has always been high on my fishing list.  Redfish, sea trout, flounder, cobia, and shark OOOHHH BUDDDDY.  And best of all my friend lives kind of close to some great South Carolina fisheries.  If I am lucky enough I will be able to drag him any from his successful job and amazing family for a few days.  I decided to look up flies that are used down there and start tying some up.

Great minds think a like.  This redfish pattern is super close to my CopyCat (a carp killer fly).  Not an exact copy but close enough.  And yes the head was colored with a Sharpie I had no blue thread.  I guess redfish eyes pick out blue really well and flies can always benefit with a splash of blue.

Cobia are simply ball busting brutes and fly shop owners dream  They shatter rods, tear lines on structure, and mangle flies- keep local shops in business fish for cobia.  A tying forum promises that this pattern in yellow and red is a killer combination for cobia.  I know I know never trust forums but if it fails in the salt I am sure there is some stupid pike out there that will crush it.  

 

Now every few tying sessions when I have the time and materials I am gonna spin flies with dreams in mind.  And in the words of Aerosmith “Dream until your dreams come true”

It must have been a Wooly Bugger

I am lucky enough to have many fly fishing mentors- people who can tie circles around me and cast better than I can walk.  They continue to teach me and I cannot thank them enough.  My mentors have built upon my passion for fly fishing that was instilled upon me by a family friend.  Like most kids I started fishing with a Zebco combo complete with the time honored 3030 reel.  I used to run around my parent’s pond- throwing spinners, jigs and dreaming of joining the FLW.

One day I was fishing and my friend Dave came over to me with a fly rod.  It was probably a flimsy trout rod being that Dave was a dedicated Ausable River junkie at that time.   “Fly Fishing is lots more fun” said Dave and gave me his rod.  After he walked me through the absolute basics of casting, he tied on bug probably a wooly bugger.  I soon realized that casting a fly rod was nothing like casting a spin rod.  Some time later I was able get enough line out to be graciously called a cast.  

Being of a gracious nature a smallie came out a hammered the fly.  Probably setting the hook himself more than me.  The rod bounced and danced as the bass fought me- I felt like the fish was in my hand as the energy of the fight traveled down the fly rod.  Grinning ear to ear my friend and I laughed at the joy of it.  Lipping the fish, pulling the fly out and listening to my friend on how to safely release a fish (the bass master release was not cool apparently) little did I know how much it would change my life.

Take a kid fishing- spread the disease of fly fishing.  Watching a kid laugh when fishing will remind you why you started fishing in the first place.  Enjoy yourself on the water you could always be working.  And remember when taking a photo of the fish- grinning laughing is part of grip and grin- no cool guy faces needed.

MAKING LEMONADE- THE FLY FISHING VERSION

 

 

My parents settled in North West Ohio.  Good schools, close to Lake Erie, good standard of living, and located nowhere near any good trout fishing.  The Western Edge of Steelhead Alley is over an hour away, smallies of the Huron River about an hour, the Ausable River four hours.  Now once a kid gas grown up these are not huge drive times and don't tax allowances much.  Still nowhere close for a quick trip to the river. 

 

The Maumee River is world famous its Spring Walleye Run-  people fight for prime fishing spots to throw Carolina Rigged floating heads for these tasty treats.  You quickly learn how to throw your line so you don't tangle your line much with our fellow fisherman.  Parking spaces along the road are as much in demand as those on the water.  When you are driving up to the river looking for a place to fish and park you might be lucky enough to spot the camo wearing DNR looking for people who are snagging.   

 

Trout bum paradise, fly fisherman paradise hardly.  But for those willing to fish outside the box- they fish for smallies, walleye, carp, catfish and even gar: the lemonade of the fly fishing world. 

 

Especially for catfish yes catfish.  These fish pull hard, their trade mark rolling on the line leaves your tippet slimy and identifies the fish well before you can see throw the muddy rivers of the Maumee.  As the summer progresses they become easier to catch moving up the water column for minnows and bugs.  But most times especially during the Dog Day's of summer they are tight to the bottom.

 

Enter the Turkey Dinner.  The Turkey Dinner everything that makes Thanksgiving so good in one bite. A wiggling mess of movement.  Maybe a crawfish, maybe a bug, either way something good.  Use a loop knot to attach the fly to a long, heavy, flat (untapered) leader and whatever sinking tip is needed to get the fly down.  Fish it deep and slowly on a drift.  And wait for the catfish to hammer down on it when they bite on the fly. 

 

Ladies and Gentleman, make lemonade.  Fish hard, fish often. 

 

 

 



Monkey Balls

Sitting around a camp fire my brother Mark- just busted out with ''Ya know Sean Monkey Balls would be a great name for a fly pattern."  I damn near wet myself it would be a great name for a fly.  Irreverent names for flies just seems appropriate.  We spend hundreds of dollars, countless hours to catch a fish then release it...how seriously can we take ourselves.

It makes me remember a conversation that I had with my Grandma a grand lady who I inherited my fishing disease from.  My Dad and I had just got back from the Bahamas....to my Grandma's dismay with no fish.  She couldn't understand it returning to the dock without fish was a failure in her mind.  No serious names for flies when we release the fish and have you seen the size of a fish brain. 

Monkey Balls came from a need I had in my box.  Mid sized flashy baitfish flies are my bread and butter for bass and pike- also it needed to dive quickly to get into cover.  Monkey Balls gets the job done- the body is almost see through with great lateral lines from the flash and a shock of color.  Tying of the fly has been made so much easier thanks for Senyo's Predator Wrap.  Fish it deep twitch the rod and hold on

Four colors are available: chartreuse, yellow, olive and white.

Early season recon

It seems like only yesterday we were fishing in board shorts and sandals. The smallies were rowdy and the pike were killers. Then the subtle change to Fall happened. Predator fish trolled the waters for victims, picking them off as they wished. Anadromous fish came to get their freak on providing lots of opportunities for amazing eats on swung flies and nymphs. Now Winter has come in vengeance.

Those who have been living in this area for years- say the weather is truly colder than normal for this time of the year. AWESOME!! As a Midwestern who transplanted to the West to ski full time and then returned to the Midwest, it is totally cool to have such good skiing already. The snow is light, dry and covers the world in a grand blank canvas; begging for new tracks to be laid down. Rivers are gurgling with ice they are still giving up some fish. Its great to be fishing deep and cold then look up to see people grinning as they ski down pristine white snow.

Throwing on pack and skinning to some of my favorite fishing places is so much fun. I am always amazed at returning to my favorite fishing holes in different seasons. It is like seeing it in a whole new light. The Winter shows you the places on the river that flow almost year round thereby providing the best fishing opportunities year round. So I am throwing on my pack and skinning to my favorite rivers; the best ones out West provide a nice descent to back to the car. Maybe I will throw my fishing stuff in the pack, maybe just some strong Irish coffee either way the crowds will be light and the scenery great.

On the approach to the Falls. It was brilliant crisp winter day. The crusty upper layer of snow made for a quick, easy skin but made for a horrible descent.

 

 

Through these trees is great swinging water. This was as close as I could get without waders- the numerous little streams around it where not frozen over yet. There is one that I am standing on to get this shoot praying that my skis spread my weight enough to keep my dry.

 

I skied down to my car through a different valley and never knew this was around- I will have to go back in the Summer. Many of the tribs in this area hold lots of brookies.

A new day and yet more new water.  The colors are in full effect, there was a nice little rain and I had the water to myself.  I have heard that when fishing new water that you know little about it is not uncommon to not catch fish 7 out of 10 days.  A little depressing but those 3 days make it worth it.  The other days you have to big deep find pleasure in the small stuff and be happy in any fish you land. 

I know there are steelhead in the water some even tease me but over all they schooled me.  Swinging small swinging high swinging big nymphing small nymphing big a recipe of school kid rhythms at only landed a single brown.  But it was so perfect.  The fish was where it should be and hit with the utter lack of restraint that only a small fish can. 

It aint a big fish most people would not even take a picture let along post it.  But I had to work for the fish and everything else was just perfect.  So here is my small friend and I look forward to seeing him later in life when he is all big and mean.

Its been an eventful few months.  Fall is coming to the UP there are have been a few nights in the 30s, chrome is turning up and the colors are changing.  Besides trying to find new places to Cast and Blast this fall I am also trying to find a new job.  The economy is a delightful thing haha.  In the next coming months I hope to have photos of new flies and new additions.  My GhettoSuperStar has been my go to baitfish fly lots of movement, flash and an 'eat me' attitude that is glaring.  Mistress Mayhem a flashy streamer for pike full of kick.  New colors and weights to my Rubber Legs Carp Candy. New color for my Copy Cat candy apple red total carp nip.

It was a fun day on the water today chancing pike on a river that is becoming my home waters.  There are many reasons why I like this river- its mediumish, pretty, quiet and full of life.  Baitfish scattered away from the raft.  But the best aspect of my home water is its ability to surprise- the fish cannot decide on size, species, what flies they prefer or presentation.  Its like fishing a new river everybody with much familiarity to it. 

Heading back to vice now a part time fly tyer without a real job needs to turn flies out.  Enjoy the coming of Fall- a friend of mine once called it an embarrassment of riches and I love being wealthy to enjoy this season.

Boundary Waters Part One

Few things compare to heading off on a fishing trip...old water, new water, exotic locales whatever- you are fishing not working. If it is a good trip you are out of cell coverage for a significant part of the time. The only signs of civilization are satellites that pass on a clear night sky. The Boundary Waters have been on my list for many years. From my Mum, it is the loons and their beautifully eiry  call. From my sister, blood sucking leeches, windy lakes and dirty portages. From my brother, tales of deep clear lakes with big smallies and ravenous pike.

It is blessed relief to finally load your gear into your fishing transport, in our case a canoe. No more worries about gear, food- if you do not have it you make due. The weeks leading up to the trip I was following the weather. I knew it might be cold- already in July there had been many days of really cold weather. If nothing else that means the ticks and the winged blood suckers should be down to a tolerable level. On this trip I was going with some new people which is great fun but you also think in the back of your mind- what if they are boring, complain about camp food or in our case since we were there to fish they decide they would rather read books than fish. Luckily for me my companions were awesome fun they took the bugs, the rain and everything in good stride. Camp fires were full of conversation sometimes beyond me but always interesting. Smiles all a round whenever a fish was brought to the boat.

Like any good outfitters everybody said the fishing was great- the water was up, it was cold, the moon would be full, they had made the necessary sacrifices to the fish gods. In case you are wondering the right sacrifice to guarantee a good fishing trip is to burn a copy of a how to guide on snagging trophy salmon on gravel beds on the PM.

A mandatory safety video before you went on the water harped on bear bags but finding a good one was tricky especially when trying to hang food for a bunch of guys for a week. I have heard stories about trees falling on tents during big winds. Want to know how to find the trees most likely to fall on your tent. Hang your food, go fishing, and listen from the boom- lesson number one for the trip.

it was great to finally get fishing that first night. Forget the fact that most were small they seemed eager so it seemed to bode well for the trip. Unfortunately they never grew in size but the numbers stayed true for the rest of the trip. For a few hours each day the fish turned on and we had fun. Which was good because the fish made was work for them. Casting sinking lines standing in canoe aint fun. Sink tips, big streamers, small streamers nothing sparked the big fellas to come out and play. I tried insulting the fish hoping to piss them off and that did not work. One day we decided to have a fish dinner. I am a dedicated catch and release guy for years but sometimes eating the fish you catch is terrific. Me eating the fish I catch is an event that happens about once a decade or if you believe my Mum as often as I clean my room. In a desperate tactic to find a better fly we cut their stomachs open. Each and every fish had empty sucks. This went on and on and occured again during our second meal. The only fish that had something in its belly was a hammerhead pike with a small little baitfish mostly digested.

The scenery in the Boundary Waters though more than makes up for it. Sometimes the fishing is really secondary to the whole overall experience. Something that I almost never say or really believe but in this case its God's honest truth. Everyday we were surrounded by loons. Night time was punctuated by their calls breaking the silence of the night. Beavers were plentiful. Swimming around throwing up huge wakes as they swim around. No matter how many times I hear it when beaver's slap their tails to warm their friends it is still great. Paddling around and hearing that slap especially close never gets old. One day the slap was so close we almost got wet. Though seeing an osprey wing past us with a large pike in its talons was cool it was also kind of stinging. Two playful otters pasted us one day I love those creatures. It reminded me of my favorite river in Montana where I regularly saw otters playing in currents.

More coming soon

No matter how much time you have before a trip there never seems to be enough time.  There always seems to be some last minute details that you have to take care of no matter how much planning you did in the previous months.  The easy decisions like food, clothing and tents are done quickly.  Ramon noodles and tuna are fine that is if you are warm and dry so you throw some more jackets and clothes into the dry bag.  Permits are bought people drop out and you find more to fill in.  The new people been flies and more equipment loaned to them so you throw in more gear into your pile.  You find out about some new stuff coming out of the gear shows so you run to your local store and throw your credit card.  Your pile grows.

You come home from work and stumble into your gear that at one time occupied a single corner now it seems to have transformed into a new floor.  So you throw some coffee on and work through it.  Cutting some stuff...are four rods really needed when you start thinking about the portages.  Do you really need all the flies you have packed.  Some fly shops have less but those stay along with multiple spare spools of leader and wire- then you throw in some heavy saltwater fluoro you hear that there have been musky landed.  Can you go to a lighter fork, you cut your toothbrush in half.  The weather in the Boundary Waters has been cold and rainy a nice tarp to cover the camping area might be nice.  Lowes only has tarps the size of your apartment at least you will be dry. 

This process does not stop until the boats are in the water.  I have repacked about 3 times for this trip to the Boundary Waters.  I have always wanted to head to the Boundary Waters.  The fishing should be good the water is high I hear that is good.  I will not the working for a time that is even better.  No more tying for a time which is good news for my chair- that chair and I have become best friends in the last few weeks.  Looking forward to big fish, great company, isolation, no sirens and clear skies.  I think that I am dialed in with all my stuff.  I think.  Maybe what sleeping bag should I bring?!

I have found a new fishing partner in the birds of the UP.  Some rivers its osprey, eagles, cranes, and many other smaller song birds that I don't know the name of.   Its fun watching the birds when the fishing is slow.  I have never really been interested in learning about birds if you cannot eat them.  But with so many fishing with me on the rivers I have a new interest.  Now many wading pack is full of flies and a book on birds.  Looking at what I can fit into my pack I wonder what happened.  In my mind I remember wading packs being a great alternative to vests because packs are not so hot, only hold the essentials and seemed to keep your gear more organized.  Every time I unpack though I think that I carry more crap that I ever did with a vest.  It still sits better than a vest, is not as hot and I seem  to find stuff easier but really do I need all this stuff. 

The other night I was happy I had way to much gear in my pack.  It is so nice to have a great fishing river less than 15 minutes from my apartment.  I always though that Basalt was the best town around- right at the confluence of the Frying Pan and the Roaring Fork.  Awesome trout fishing but no smallies or steelhead.  Now I vote Marquette as one of the great fishing towns. 

Fishing was good- trout had their feed bags on.  Soft hackles, winged wets and dries all fooled them.  I was fishing a new section of the river- I drove until the dirt road was really crappy then drove more and did not enter the river until the trail I was following dwindled down to nothing.  The woods were super thick, steep hills and banks and nobody else but me the birds and mosquitos.  Everybody is saying that this is the worst year in remembering for these little terrors.  I believe them if it was not for my Buff and Deet buried in the corner of my pack they might have pushed me off the river or carried me away to fest on me.  Guess I do need all my stuff in my pack.

But the fishing was great.  Trout were feeding and I landed a really large smallie- on a floppy 5 weight in a fast river it was fun.  The hike out was hellish.  I pulled ticks off me as mosquitos fested, branches caught my rod, banks gave out and the night became black under the trees even though it was a clear full moon.  Finding my headlamp in another corner of my pack was a great find.  Even though it brought more blood sucking killers to me I could at least see where I was going.  A shower has never felt so good and I realized how much fun it was.  The conditions kept even the most dedicated person out- I was asked where I caught the smallie....I have asked this question before and been asked it before (never accepting the truth).  Here is where I caught this hog- when there is no snow on the ground follow mountain biking trails in the winter its skiers climb on few ridges and you are there when you see no other signs of people.  I figure if I see you fishing there you are a person worth meeting and will know to keep your mouth shut.  Hope to see ya tonight. 

Surprise...Pike!!

Surprise, Surprise, Surprise, Surprise

The Upper Peninsula of Michigan has been called God’s Country- it is full of wonderful sights, sounds, fishing, hiking….the list is endless.  I am lucky enough to have a real job and fly tying which allows me more time than should be legal to fish.  This past week I chased brookies on an isolated stream, paddled around a backcountry lake and had a great surprise on a project smallie stream of mine.

Fishing the same stream is great- you get to learn its intricacies, it is like coming home and gives you a nice little comfortable feeling.  You know where the fish are, the workable patterns and great spots to ponder all things in life Ralph Waldo Emerson style.

But like all great fishing streams it throws you a loop sometimes.  The first time I fished this stream- it was full of small bass, another time a few epic sized fish and the this time….PIKE.  It was great day most the fish were not huge but they were hungry.  Crushing flies when you placed a fly in the fish’s backyard.  These fish wanted to kill, maim, and conquer the world.  Even releasing them proved problematic for those gentlemen who were not wearing a cup.  If fishing was predictable it would be boring and really not worth it.  I found myself laughing like a kid- it was like when I was young and skipping stones for hours was tremendous fun.   The fish in your back yard sometimes can be as great as those new sexy ones in exotic locales and it is much cheaper. 

As a fly tier I am always trying new patterns.  On a total whim I tied some flies what I would call guide patterns- cheap and super quick to tie.  I have been fishing them for years but have not been recently opting for instead using newer ones.  Flies are like….well they are like friends I guess insert whatever you can think of that is better my ability to articulate like a real author has failed me.  But it is great to have flies that work for many years and in lots of conditions.  Do not forget about them- there is a reason some flies have been selling for decades. 

Today, I finally got the chance to fish an upper part of river that I have been eyeing for years.  My brother in law and I planned on a later float- hopefully hitting the prime reaches, at dusk when the big fellas come out to play.  We had to go today to miss the cold, rainy forecast for the next few days.  Up here- in God’s Country summer keeps teasing us.  The water turned out to be nothing like I thought but so much better.  Two different juvenile bald eagles acted as our escort for much of the time- the first bailing when I would assume, we entered the territory of another far bigger juvenile eagle.   The silence was startled only by grouse, kingfishers and a huge commotion that we could only assume was a moose.  I suppose it could have been a deer lost in the marshy goodness but it is prime moose territory and considering the tight quarters we were really hoping it was not a bear. 

Most people are still chasing trout- with stellar results on brook trout from what I hear.  We decided to load up for smallies and pike.  This water is epic- lots of fish holding water.  We banged the banks, fished midstream holes….it turned out to be good casting practice.  The river is loaded with timber which made standing while casting in canoe interesting to say the least.  Many people would be discouraged by our lack of success but I got more excited.  I have been looking for a river to be a project for the summer and I have finally found it.  Many return trips are going to be in the works.  Lucky for us my brother in law has a tiny bladder and we had to pull over for him to put some needed water into the stream.  My new set up is all A’s and it finally got a chance to dance. 

Before I keep going I know these stories about the fish that got away.  And people always say it is for real and most times you just shake your head at another good fish story.  BUT BUT I did lose the biggest smallie I have ever seen on the end of my rod- I fish that will haunt me for years.  We decided not to bring a net and as I dropped to lip the fish….she turned tail and laughed.  My hands shook for a long time after that.  Tying on new flies and casting proved to be daunting since my hands were shaking and my eyes focused like I had been hitting the whiskey like a good Irishman.   Exploring new water is so much fun.  Every turn was new; every side channel into the lily pads, every ox bow was a hidden jewel.  I felt like Lewis and Clark and if was not for the occasional signs of humans- I would have believed. I cannot wait to return and get this water dialed in.  This trip has renewed my spirit for exploration.  New water, new adventures….hopefully next time I will play the fish right with a grip and grin at the end.  Because no matter what fishermen say landing fish is still an important part any fishing trip.  Photos coming soon… 

Like any other fisherman I love to catch fish.  But exploring new water is definitely a close second.  Today I spent the day exploring some new brook trout water.  I vaguely knew of some marshy beaver dam goodness and since I had some time I decided to start my summer fishing plan early.  My plan for the summer or from now on- is to fish 2 new areas each month.

Brookies stayed true to form- they love big dries and wet flies as droppers.  This new area I am gonna call Dam N' Mud proved to be jewel.  The stream runs right through an area that is often frequented by bird watchers.  There is a good chance of seeing eagles, ospreys and 20 different song birds if the park service handouts are right.  The best part of this little adventure was there was not another soul in sight- a far cry from the rivers people read about in magazines.

As I moved downstream the holes got deeper and deeper- a few miles into the river....CHROME...CHROME.  Steelhead were stacked up holes.  The UP is full of fish and no matter how many new areas I have been it never ceases to amaze me.  I got to spend a great afternoon chasing brookies and watching steelhead.  Rarely do I ever get the chance just to watch steelhead and since I was only armed with a 3 weight and my steelhead rod was miles away I had no choice.

The weekend should be dandy- I look forward to going back and seeing if the steelhead are hungry.  It was great to see these fish in an area I never thought they would be.  Having comfy home waters is great but the allure of new water and new fish is a super powerful draw.  Grab an atlas find those little blue lines and find something new.