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.