AussieSteel

Operation Early Atlantics

2011-06-17T12:04:00.000-07:00

Almost there

Baby Atlantic

Crusty Buck off the beds

Towards the base of the rapids

Fledgling Gulls

The base of the rapids

Steel from the "inside"Attempt at being artsy recovering after the fight Chewing on a woolly bugger See you later A bright hen Another artsy attempt Last fish of the trip

Wisconsin's Wolf River

2011-06-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

Downstream on the Wolf River

Looking Upstream

What was coming off

Soo Steel Trip

2011-06-03T09:55:00.000-07:00

Sunsets always look good over international bridge

My first Atlantic Salmon of the year A silver steelhead More steel afternoon sun over the rapids Rapids from the American side

Last fish of the trip

Northern Lake Superior Family and FIshing

2011-05-30T09:35:00.000-07:00

We had planned a family trip (with Aunt Mandi) out to the black hills in South Dakota but the weather forecast there wnet very bad so we had to make a last minute change. I chose to go north and to explore the Nipigon Bay region a little more at the northern tip of Lake Superior. It was a long, slow drive up to Grand Marais where we stopped at the kids' grandparents place and met up with Mandi then the kids got all excited about crossing the border into a foreign country. As we crossed into Canada the weather was nice. Blue skies, no wind and warm. Driving along the trans-canada highway in the early evening we saw a moose coming out to feed by the highway. That was pretty cool.

I had planned on making it as far as Rossport but the day just got away from us. We ended up setting up camp at an RV park along Stillwater Creek. Once Jessica asked to be moved from the original site we were given we had a nice spot down by the creek and away from people. It was a nice spot. The stream was too inviting and I was soon out with my 4 weight probing for eager brook trout. None materialized in the short time I spent but it's always nice to roll a fly over in a new stream.

Bedtime came pretty quickly and everyone slept well but the morning ushered in some cold and wet weather. I was pretty upset but I figured at least it was good fishing weather. My estimations would have put these streams on the later side of a steelhead run, but probably not ended so I opted to bail on the girls and the kids and fish (superdad as always). I made the short drive east to the Jackpine River and within five minutes was hooked up with and landed my first steelhead of the trip. The fish slipped off to freedom before I got the camera out and I was lamenting my mistake when I was suddenly hooked up again.

Both steelhead were on the smaller side but fought with vigor and passion. It's true when people say superior fish fight much better than Michigan or Huron fish of the same size - no question.

A Jackpine River Steelhead
Another Steelhead

Steelhead were stacked in the gut of that pool and I hit three or four fish in there before moving on. As I walked further and further up the river just kept getting more and more beautiful and I could have fished all day, but I knew this was a family trip so I couldn't do that. I did get another smaller fish in a deeper pool a fair way upstream but it was slow.

A little one from upstream

Pretty Stream Just got more and more beautiful

I headed back down but couldn't resist hitting that fruitful pool. Again I struck fish but now there were a number of fat, gravid suckers moved in. Oh I hate those things but I'll put up with them if I'm getting the odd steelhead. I think I finished five for eight or nine for the few hours I was out and I was more than satisfied with that. As I was having my usual plethora of "one last cast" Jessica came tramping upstream. The girls had taken the kids into Nipigon while I fished but were now stopped at the camper for some lunch.

A Small one to finish the session

Me coming down the valley

While I'd been fishing the kids got to check out teh "paddle to the sea" (kiddies book) trail down from the library to the marina. They liked the park and the sea plane docked there. I can only imagine the tremendously swollen mass of the Nipigon River down there.

Clowning around

Having some fun

With the heavy rain and cold weather set in people's spirits were low. Despite the unexpected fishing bonus (did I mention there was nobody else on the river!!!!!) my mood was deflated too. I wanted the kids to have a good time on this trip. I met a great guy by the pullout to the river. He was a truckdriver from Manitoba. He was originally from Iceland but marred a native girl and had been living out in manitoba for over ten years. He was pleasant and I enjoyed meeting him. We chatted for over an hour so I'm sure the girls weren't too thrilled when I met up with them in Rossport a little later than I said I would. At least the kids had a good time playing at the park there and on the beach, despite the rain.

The park at Rossport Lara had a good time despite all the time in the car

Beach at Rossport The oldest two running off some energy Typical scenery shot of the area Mom and Lara cuddling up

It was time to find a place for us to camp for the night and after a stop or two we settled on the campground at Rainbow Falls Provincial Park. It was a pretty and extensive park ranging from beaches along lake superior to inland lakes and forests. It was a touch on the expensive side but it suited our needs and when the rain stopped in the afternoon we all went on a hike to visit the namesake Rainbow Falls.

Lake shore with the mist rolling in

Pierce Sulking after getting in trouble for trying to squash a worm Lara with a smile

Natalya having some fun Pierce liked the noise Mandi posing for Natalya

Everyone at the viewing platform The last cascade of the falls

Getting out was god for everyone. We saw a heap of squirrels and snowshoe hares all over the park and with so few people about the kids could make some noise and we didn't really have to worry. Back at the campsite we put up the awning from the camper and cooked up some dinner before another bedtime.

A devilish smile from mom after a rude gesture to the cameraman

This is typical pre bedtime behavior :(

The youngest one comes to join the wrestling match

Sleep came heavy and fast for us all (except Lara, who had a somewhat restless night) but the morning again had a heavy, dark sky and light rain. I was really bummed now. The girls planned to head east to hike near Terrace Bay while I went to fish the flats in front of the mouth of the Gravel River for an hour or two. As I fished the sky cleared, the temperature climbed and the place suddenly looked like a wonderful place to vacation again. High skies weren't conducive to fish coming into the sandy shallows so I figured I'd try fishing the Cypress River. That was a good plan. I walked straight down to the river and immediately saw a pair of steelhead in the tailout spawning. I rigged up my rod and......the tip of my Scott Arc broke (again!!!) before I even made a cast. I raced back to the truck and grabbed a six weight Sage. It was difficult to get a good drift but as soon as I got one the buck moved forward and took the fly, raced upstream to a deep pool and immediately under some roots and stumps. I swear that sometimes they know exactly where to go when hooked! That was the end of him.

I moved upstream and noticed quite a number of suckers had filtered into the system. I wondered if there were any steelhead left in the river. I got to a dark slot behind some shallow riffles and drifted the fly through. BANG, fish on and I had a long chase on my hand. The lighter rod didn't have the backbone to keep my fish in the pool I'd hooked it in and the fish slipped into a long stretch of rapids so I had to run down to get some line back on the reel. That fish got me into my backing and was no more than five or six pounds. I love the heart of these Lake Superior fish!

What a fighter!

I continued to fish this beautiful river and it is certainly the prettiest steelhead stream I've fished. Nobody was out and even though it was the middle of a bright, cloudless day, I just couldn't stop fishing. I didn't get any more fish though.

Cypress River More of the Cypress

While I was fishing the girls were off seeing the sights with the kids, checking out beaches and waterfalls and little towns. From all accounts they had a good time and it was nice now the sun was beginning to show itself.

One of many canyons in the area Pierce enjoying himself

When I got back to the camper the kids were in the pool by the road swimming. I was sweating and thirsty now that the sun was out and the weather was finally nice again. We swam and messed around throwing pebbles and things before heading for some dinner and then ice-cream in Nipigon. The ice-cream was a hit with everyone and the Canadians were out getting ice-cream and wearing shorts to expose their white legs.

Just being kids A nice stream to hang out

The Ice-cream place Natalya digging in

Pierce loves Ice-cream

After our break it was back west towards Thunder Bay and Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. We arrived quite late and the sun was just setting. It's a long drive from the highway to the campground and we saw so many deer, rabbits, and even a couple of porcupines. Pierce loved seeing them all but was happy to stretch his legs when we arrived. The sun was setting, loons were calling and it was still and warm. A few bugs were out but it was so much nicer than the evening before.

Lovely Sunset over a Lake

Just another shot of the sunset A duck landing for the night The sleeping Giant in the Background

We headed to bed and the usual wrestling and craziness went on for a while until bedtime was declared. The kids perhaps enjoyed this time of the day more than any other. Makes you wonder why I drove all that way doesn't it? But I love to see those big smiles on the kids no matter how I get them.

A happy Natalya

Lara gives a wave Pierce is just happy all the time

Morning came and again it was cold and raining. We had a quick breakfast and hit the road. On the way out we saw the highlight of the trip for me. There was a bear with her cub. I didn't see it but apparently there was also another cub that the girls saw a little later (they were traveling behind Pierce and I). They were just off the road and didn't seem concerned at all with us being there.

There's a mommy bear

A bear and her cub

We stopped in Grand Marais and went out for dinner then did the big haul home. We got there about midnight which didn't give me much time to pack and get ready for my trip to the Soo at six the next morning. I hope the kids and girls had a good trip. I know I enjoyed the fishing and seeing some wildlife and just enjoying the kids.

Bayfield and the Apostle Islands

2011-05-22T19:04:00.000-07:00

Natalya anchoring the relay at her track and field meet before hitting the road to Bayfield

The rig on the way north

A view out across the Apostle Islands

A view towards Bayfield Marina

A very tired Pierce

The Runners at the start of the Apple Blossom race

Pierce and a couple of coho salmon from the bay

The main Lodge

Kids making it hard for Mandi

Posing for pics with Aunt Mandi

Grandpa and Cedar on the beach at Big Sand Bay Pierce and Natalya enjoying the sand and surf Grandma and Natalya in the waves Sea caves in the mist more of Sand Island more sea caves Snow in June Just more caves Pretty cool shoreline

Float on the Root River

2011-05-17T19:28:00.000-07:00

Bois Brule Gives up some of her treasure

2011-05-08T17:14:00.000-07:00

A week before I drove past the Bois Brule River on my way home from Minnesota's north shore. It was cold and heavy rain had turned the river to chocolate milk downstream from highway 2. Above the highway was still closed to fishing but with the unseasonable cold spring I wondered if there might be steelhead still spawning up in the gravel. Within moments of walking in by the ranger station I saw heavy steelhead porpoising and sparring on the gravel right in front of me. I watched for a half hour or so before heading back to the truck and heading for home. Still, the entire river was due to open for trout opener just a week later.

So at 5am (legal opening) on Saturday morning I found myself lying soundly in my sleeping bag awaiting first light. Suprisingly, there were no other fishermen where I went in and I immediately began probing around where the fish had been splashing around six days earlier. After ten minutes or so I slipped my indicator and flies under submerged branch and there came the headshake and weight of a decent fish. It rushed into a deep slow pool with little timber to worry about and so I could relax and enjoy subduing this first fish.

A nice start to the day

I worked downstream towards the campground and as the sun rose it was easy to see there weren't many fish on the beds. I struck another male about twenty minutes later but the trout were also hitting well. I had a good brown slash at my fly twice before hooking up but he shook off. It was probably fifteen inches. I did get a nice rainbow that had the same coloring I've seen on some of the fish in the Muskegon River in Michigan.

Check out the cheeks and under the gill plates

This is a beautiful river to fish, and more enjoyable to wade above highway 2 than the downstream stretch available to the angler for most of the time steelhead are in the river. That is, it's beautiful to fish if you're not fixated on catching fish. I already had a couple under my belt so I could relax and enjoy the stream.

Typical scene on the river

I hit a good brown just beside that rock

I fished upstream and down and as the morning wore on I began seeing more and more anglers. When I got back to the truck there were Minnesota Licence plates everywhere with TU stickers all over their fancy, big city vehicles. The Simms/Sage crowd was out in force. Time for me to beat a retreat. I stopped by the gas station and picked up some bacon and milk and cooked up a good feast, walked and fed the dog and just relaxed in the spring sunshine for a few minutes.

The sun was high on a cloudless, warm day. The last week had been very warm and I now knew the fish that were on beds six days before had left. My thinking was not all of them would have made it the 25 river miles back to the big lake and all the city losers wouldn't be fishing the "old" water that had been open for weeks. I drove way down river to a deserted river. There was nobody around at all. It was fantastic. Admittedly, the water was fairly stained from the snowmelt and red clay, so I figured my best chance was to cover water with a big, gordy streamer - a chance to give the new 6/7 Winston two-hander a spin.

I wasn't feeling confident in the conditions and was telling myself it was at least a good thing to practice a couple of different spey casts. I'd been fishing about forty-five minutes when a heavy throb shook half way through the swing. Fish on! I was so excited but this wasn't the electric, spicy dropback you read about. It thrashed and rolled but didn't run with much conviction. Still it was great to get one when everyone I'd spoken to told me there were no steelhead to be caught. I fished another hour or so but didn't get another strike. My casts were getting tighter and improved greatly in the time I was on the water.

I was feeling pretty satisfied and just wanted to relax and enjoy the stream. I headed up to fish an unfamiliar stretch of river by Pine Tree Landing, this time with a 5 weight, and small wet flies for trout. I came across a few kayakers and a few guys out and everyone was complaining there were no steelhead around. The trout were biting though and most people had at least got a couple. I only got one or two smolt wading this stretch of river but listening silently to everyone tell me how there were no steelhead left in the river left me feeling quite satisfied.

Looking down on the stream during a short break

I fell asleep early that night (had driven up to Duluth the night before to drop Jessica at her friends' wedding shower weekend and then headed over to Brule and arrived after midnight the night before) and it was a sound sleep. The morning I was not quick to don waders and hit the stream. I had a hearty breakfast and threw a stick for the dog before again trying my luck at swinging. I fished a couple of hours and had one big swirl right under the fly (I swore I saw the fly in it's mouth!!) but never felt the weight of a fish. Again there was nobody around and was a warm, sunny day. I was scheduled to pick up Jessica by noon so I headed back over to Duluth, picked her up and I drove south as Jessica read and slept on the drive home. Hopefully they won't be the last steelhead of the season, but when it's winding down on the southern Superior rivers there isn't too many rivers in the Great Lakes region holding fish.

Minnesota Steel

2011-05-01T18:02:00.000-07:00

For me, catching steelhead on Minnesota's north shore isn't something you can expect. You can try and time it, and put in your time, but there just aren't many fish and conditions change so fast in these freestone, high gradient streams that fish are in and out in no time. But as luck would have it, I was annoyed with idiots at work and when I checked the conditions on the north shore it looked promising. Time to play hooky and skip my Friday. I decided I'd go around 10pm and it took until just after midnight to get the camper on the truck and ready to hit the road. So off I went and drove for a few hours, stopped for a quick hour long power nap, then drove the rest of the way up past Two Harbors to one of my favorite Minnesota rivers.

I listened to the royal wedding on the radio and it turns out that at the same time Osama Bin Laden was getting taken out as well. The sun was just beginning to come up as I came into Duluth and the lake looked good with no wind and clear skies.

Coming into Duluth

Sunrise Over Lake Superior

When I arrived there were a couple of guys rigging up but, as usual, they were racing up to the terminal falls to throw spawn at stale fish. I trundled down from the highway and made my way through the swamp to the river and upstream to a great holding spot. To look at it, it doesn't seem much, but I've seen MANY fish come out of it. It doesn't fish well with an indicator so I had a chuckNduck rig and large, bright flies to combat the deeply stained water.

To my relief it looked the same and I soon got the weight ticking through just like I wanted it. Boom, ten minutes in a headshake, the fish sloshed up on the surface and slowly dropped back with the current and I felt the weight for an instant and I saw my polar bear fly in its mouth, before I watched the fish disappear back under the ripples it had made and the weight was gone. My head sank, I uttered a few choice words that don't need repeating, then checked the hook on the fly and got back to work. This is the north shore. Was that my one chance for the day? Did I screw up the only fish I was likely to see? That was looking more and more likely as the next ten minutes slipped by then............................ticking stopped and I set on the slack weight. Bam,bam, bam went the headshakes and off downsteam he tore. he slipped through the tailout of the pool I was in and into a long stretch of heavy water. There was a slick of calmer water by the bank I was on but I couldn't get below the fish, so it was a tough tussle as I fought the fish against the heavy water. Finally though, the fish tired and it's head came up and I could slip it into the slack water and up to me.

It was a looper, or Kamloops Rainbow trout and are more prized by the local fishermen than the steelhead. Steelhead are wild and can't be legally kept, but the loopers are stocked and can be taken. They can be distinguished by the clipping of their adipose fin and are often a deeper fish and certainly not as shiny. But to catch them, they are virtually indistinguishable from steelhead.

Looper!Same Fish

Less than half an hour later I had a brighter fish and it put on quite a show. It was heavier and leapt tow or three times upon being hooked, before tumbling back into the heavy water, and eventually coming to hand in the same slick as the earlier fish. Two drifts later, would you believe it, Fish On, and another looper came to hand. I'd pricked four fish and landed three and it wasn't even 10am!

Wild Steelhead The view upstream Another Looper

After than the sun did get high in the sky and fishing slowed right down. Something changed and you could feel it in the air. I fished another half hour or so then headed back to the truck to check on the dog. Now there were guys pulling up and donning waders everywhere. I guess that's how long it takes to drive up from the cities if you leave at the same time as a normal work day? They were the usual crowd that you normally see parked by the Brule or Kinnickinic or Rush Rivers! It was time to leave the river to them.

I really like the Stewart River and is one of the few north shore rivers that really lends itself to indicator fishing and where the fish have a lot of river to run before they hit the terminal falls. I figured there'd be a few guys but with plenty of room I'd find some water. When I got to the pull out it was packed!!!!! It seemed every guy with a rod and reel in his possession was going to fish that river. I made myself a sandwich and took the dog out for a quick walk before heading up for an adventure.

I had just bought a pontoon boat and when I got to the Split Rock River I inflated it and put it in at the mouth of the stream and paddled around pulling a full sinking line in and out of the flume of dirty water billowing into the lake. The high sun and high temps surely had the fish sulking so I figured that was as good a chance to catch fish as any. Well the experiment failed but it was fun and for a moment I did get excited when my fly hung up on a branch being washed out to the lake about six feet under the surface. To be honest, that log fought better than some crusty kings I've caught in the rivers.

Me out in the pontoon

As the sun began to fade I headed to my morning spot and fished lucklessly for about an hour before being crowded out by a couple of spawn chuckers that dropped in on me. Clearly, they wanted to fish where I was and it wasn't worth the aggravation so I let them have it. I had one trick left up my sleeve.

I have, in years past, managed to get steel by swinging smelt patterns by the mouth of a certain river when the smelt are in. The hadn't been reported but the river temps I'd seen suggested tonight might be the night, so I headed up to my river. A few guys were there but heading home. We spoke a while before Belle (the dog) and I, had the river to ourselves. The sun was setting when a fish cut at the surface and the rod throbbed with a smaller fish. At first I figured it was a smolt but as I went to remove the large streamer I noticed it was a very nice (18 inch or so) coaster brook trout. The silvery sparkle washed out the glories colors and markings of the brook trout genetics and catching that native jewel made my whole trip. I had never caught a Minnesota coaster, and this one was on the swing and in the spring.

Check it out - A coaster!Sunset on a North Shore river

I didn't get another strike that night and with the weekend upon us I knew the number of fisheremen would get crazy so I drove over to fish Wisconsin's Bois Brule River in the morning.

Chocolate Milk on the Brule Mouth of the Brule Belle fetching her stick

Well overnight the temperature dropped and it poured rain. The river was chocolate brown and my short session was completely fruitless. I did decide to head upstream and look to see if there were any fish still spawning in the upper (closed to fishing) portion of the river. There was, and not just a few. I knew where I wanted to be in six days time when the season opened on that part of the river.

Pere Marquette Motherload

2011-04-17T08:39:00.000-07:00

Back on the PM, down by Clay Banks

Didn't take long for fish number 1

Second fish of a procession
End of a great afternoon session of steelheading

An important part of the trip: burgers at Government Lake Lodge

Sexy waitress at the Lodge

Back down on Clay banks in the morning Attempt at being artsy Looking up to the burnt cottage

A nice brown

An evening steel

Mike arrives and brings us pontoons :)Ted hits a nice brown Our transportation for the day Mike working a run Ted hooks up!Jerry Drake of Indiana with his bamboo spey Another view of the river
End of a good float

Mark drifts a fly and BAMM Mark with a nice hen
A nice brownie for me A pretty hen for me
Yep, I was there, casting away

My last steelhead of the trip A weather-worn fisherman
Some steel up on beds in Baldwin Creek

Muskegon River with Mark and Dan

2011-04-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

Exploring the Platte and Betsie Rivers

2011-04-08T08:26:00.000-07:00

The upper Platte

A nice hen from the Platte

A little lower down the Platte

A wide, open stretch of the Platte

First fish of the Betsie Another Betsie River Steelhead A rare spot on the Betsie not full of anglers

A side trip up to the rapids

2011-04-07T08:10:00.000-07:00

A good fishing session

2010-10-21T17:17:00.000-07:00

After some half hearted fishing for chinook salmon we got on the road for more aggressively feeding fish. We followed the shores of Lake Michigan before the short cut across the tip of the UP (upper peninsula of Michigan) to the two sister cities of Sault Ste Marie, Michigan and it's namesake on the Canadian side of the border. The two cities are separated by the St Mary's River and the locks that link Lake Superior and Lake Huron. The mighty river is now diverted to feed power plants on both sides of the border with gates regulating the flow down from Lake Superior and downstream of the gates are the St Mary's rapids. These rapids attract trout and salmon year round, particularly when spawning is on their minds. A few weeks earlier the rapids were choked up with pink salmon and a few chinooks. Now the spawning beds were blackened with chinooks and, as always they weren't eating heartily, but it wasn't them we were hoping to catch.

As we crossed international bridge Paul got his first look at the rapids and I wondered what he thought. I remembered back to when Ted and I first saw that water with high hopes of getting into some spring steelhead. A quick and uneventful passage through customs and we headed down to the rapids on the Canadian side. It was afternoon and we only had a couple of hours of fishing time before darkness would fall. On went the waders (and several other layers of clothes for Paul) and soon we were wading and casting in the crystal clear, cold waters tumbling down from Lake Superior. We waded straight past the gravel beds and the blackened spawning kings out to a rock that sat at the head of a pool just below the spawning fish. I was confident there'd be steelhead sitting in behind the salmon, feasting on eggs so I thought Paul was in the best spot C I could think of. Besides it takes a little time to get used to the heavy currents of the river and I wanted to give him some time to adjust before I had him wading in the more treacherous waters.

Coming up on International Bridge

I was just heading out to my favourite pool when I looked over my shoulder and noticed Paul's rod arched over and throbbing. I headed back through the fast water just in time to net a small steelhead for him, his first. It wasn't big at all but I was glad to be there. I was confident there'd be plenty of larger ones in the next couple of days. After a photo or two I headed back out to my pool and began swinging streamers with my spey rod.

Paul with his first Steelhead

As the light began to fade my rod bobbed and a few heavy headshakes preceded the bold leaps of a small atlantic salmon. Despite a gallant effort the fish was soon subdued. Paul and I looked over the relatively unexpected catch. It was only beginning to develop spawning colours and the brilliant reds, oranges and yellows of the sunset reflected along it's silver sides. We fished until nightfall but our two fish were a fitting way to start things for the trip.

A small Atlantic Salmon Sunset over International Bridge

We stopped fishing and grabbed a bite to eat at what was to become our kitchen and dining room for the trip, the Wendys by the casino. Then it was back out to the discharge from the powerdam to flick the spoon about. I know this spot gets fished pretty heavily by the locals when the fish are in so when there was nobody about I wasn't too confident. We fished for a few minutes but it just didn't have that "fishy" felling and we were both getting tired. it was a short drive to the carpark of the casino and we crawled into the back of the truck, zipped up our sleeping bags and drifted off after checking in with our loved ones on the phone. I was feeling pretty good about things and it was good to have a couple of decent fish under our belts and two more days to really go after them. I'm sure I dozed into a dream about catching giant steelhead before entering a deep, heavy sleep.

Casting spoons at the power plant discharge

I must have subconsciously kept one ear open in case a policeman came around because I sat up when I heard the creaking open of topper hatch. Paul was already up and luckily he was more alert than I was. It took me a few moments to register what was going on. I just remember a shifty little short dude looking in at us with a hood on (pretty common in Canada) and then shock on his face when he saw us. He gulped and exclaimed "Dude, there's guys in there, eh!", before slamming the hatch down and running off. My mind hadn't even registered what was happening but Paul watched outside and saw him run off and which direction he went. Now we were both pretty awake and were trying to come up with legitimate reasons why someone would want to break into the back of a truck but were having quite a bit of trouble. The thing is that in the boat we'd left hundreds of dollars worth of fishing stuff just sitting there for shifty little hands to take off with. Maybe he was too short to see over the sides of the boat, or maybe he was just a little unprepared, or maybe he was just looking for a cozy place to sleep, but he sure took off like a bat out of hell when he saw us. As I thought about it the next morning I was a little freaked out about it, but at the time I remember Paul and I just joking about it and thinking nothing of it. We just kept repeating, in our best Canadian accents, "dude, there's guys sleeping in here, eh". But even that wasn't enough to hold us from slumber for too long and it was too cold to keep from snuggling cozily into the sleeping bags and blankets.

In his defence, it was a cold morning, but I hadn't driven all the way to Sault Ste Marie to sit in the truck during prime fishing time so I left Paul to his warmth, donned my waders and headed out to my favorite pool. I fished without a fish for a good hour or more before I noticed Paul stumbling out to the rock he'd fished from the day before. I was unaware that he'd gotten lost and been struggling to find a shallow spot to get out to the berm wall for the last half hour and been frustratingly watching me but unable to get to me. When he finally did manage to get out to the berm and over to his rock he was wet, cold and out of cigarettes. Did I mention he had the net. In my mind he had just been lazy and disrespectful of my efforts by sleeping in the back of the truck instead of coming out and fishing. At this point I was losing respect for him as a fisherman and thought he was a weeny because he couldn't handle the cold. I made a mental note to put a teaspoon of cement in his coffee that evening to toughen him up.

Well as luck would have I finally got whacked and cartwheeling up came a fine atlantic salmon. That was the only time the fish broke the surface but the violent headshakes and dogged runs were very characteristic of atlantics. But although I didn't get a good look I knew it was a big fish. I fought the fish out and when I did get a good look my heart came into my mouth. It was indeed a big fish. A huge fish. I was in the low teens (pounds) for sure, deeply coloured with a huge formed kype. It hadn't fought with the zest of a silver summer fish but it was certainly a trophy. Now Paul had seen the rod and me fighting it (eventually) and, to his credit, was doing his best to wade through the heavy current and he'd never done it before so he had no way to know which way was safe to wade.

The fish was played out and beaten, now gliding as much on it's back as upright and I swung it around into the shallows waiting for the net to arrive. Well the fish had one more headshake with that big kype and that was enough to dislodge the fly. All I could do was watch as my exhausted fish floated back through the heavy water and off towards Lake Huron. I was frustrated and upset and the bumbling, struggling net man was the perfect candidate to blame for my failure. In hindsight I was an arse for letting him have it but it's not like he just rolled over and took it anyway. But for a couple of Wilkes' it was a pretty mild dummy spit and we got over it in a few minutes.

Perhaps what helped most was the two of us went down to a spot known as "atlantic alley". To get there yo have to go through some deep water (but not much current) and you have to have a fair bit of faith in the guy leading you to do it. To Paul's credit he trusted me and we were soon fishign side by side and joking around again. We hadn't been there five minutes when Paul informed me he'd been slammed but didn't hook up. He cast back to the same spot and BANG fish on. The fish struck a long way out and in some heavy current so it took Paul some time to seduce his first Atlantic salmon. We did the usual congratulations and all that jazz but it was short lived as we both wanted to get back to it.

Paul's first Atlantic Salmon

A couple of casts later he was on again and before I got my fly wound in I was hit. The sky above us was looking foreboding, dear and heavy and I hoped there was no lightning in it as we were very exposed and couldn't get to safety quickly if the weather went bad. Paul landed another nice atlantic, a little larger and somewhat fresher than the first. As you'd expect it also fought better and gave him a decent workout.

Another atlantic for Paul

Minutes later it was my turn and the spey rod bobbed and waved under the strain. Line peeled from the reel and once the fish made it into the heavy water it was a chore to turn him. This atlantic was still pretty fresh and gave a good account of itself and although it didn't dull the pain of the earlier lost fish, I was happy.

First Atlantic in my hands for the day

The next few minutes were crazy. A storm front pushed through and dumped hail on us, then heavy rain but while that happened the fishing was insane. We were getting hit every drift and it was just a case of getting the fly into the water and it was "fish on". So much for atlantics being hard to catch! First Paul got a hook jawed male then I hit a larger fish that brought a big smile to my face. From there we just stopped taking photos and enjoyed ourselves. It all slowed down after twenty minutes or so and then we fished for a half hour or so without a hit. We decided to check out another spot.

A hook jawed male A nice one coming out of the net Not a bad atlantic so I'm all smiles

We made out way all the way up to the gates on the American side of the rapids and within a few minutes Paul was hooked up. This time his reel was screaming adn he was in a dog fight. The fish shot out of the water like a torpedo and it was clear to see it was a coho that was still pretty silver. Paul has a good time with it and I informed him these things are the best of all the salmon and trout to eat. Consequently it went into a shallow rock pool for later.

Another first for Paul - this time a coho salmon

Another ten minutes or so and I was hooked up with good coho and then Paul with another small atlantic. It was getting almost too easy. The Paul was onto another nice coho and we had some nice fillets of coho flapping about in that rock pool. We also got a few smaller atlantics but we weren't even counting them at this point. We could see large salmon and steelhead porpoising up at the very heads of the gates and despite our best efforts we couldn't get our offering up there. We just kept hoping they'd cruise back into our range. Unfortunately they never did and eventually hunger and nicotine cravings forced us off the water. It had been a great session and I was so glad I'd made the long trip worthwhile for Paul. I felt a heap of pressure had been taken off me.

Me with a coho Yes, Paul caught the biggest coho One of the many smaller atlantics

After a surprisingly long time to find a place that sold cigarettes we were back at Wendys and reliving the memories of the morning. That was some good fishing and we'd pretty much had the place to ourselves. Once lunch was done we headed over to the local flyshop and got chatting with the owner. While we were there a friend of mine who I've met on the river a few times came in. Keigan is from Nova Scotia and has fished some pretty amazing rivers for atlantics. He has a wealth of knowledge. So poor Paul had to sit and listen to us talk about flyfishing for hours before keigan decided to join us and head down to the river for the hour or so that was left in the day.

We really didn't have long to fish as the sun was setting fast so Paul headed to his rock and I went out to my favourite pool. As usual I was just swinging away and out of nowhere was a savage slam and off charged a heavy fish. This fish had some weight to it. It kept deep but the solid headshakes suggested it wasn't a steelhead. the runs just weren't as explosive as fall steel. I was getting frustrated and wondered if I didn't have a big king on because I just couldn't make headway. But the fish did tire fighting the heavy current and the big rod and when it did roll onto its side I saw that I had a BIG atlantic. Not the size of the one I lost in the morning, but still a big hen atlantic. I netted her and took her across for Paul to have a look at. He suggested you buy atlantic at the store so it must taste pretty good so we might as well throw it in with the cohos. I've never taken an atlantic so I figured why not give it a try for a change. My buddy Johnny was on the bank with clients and needed some spawn for his clients the next morning so I let him clean out my fish and we were on our way as it was certainly dark an getting cold.

A good female Atlantic Salmon

I'm pleased to say that night went without being interrupted by anyone. We ate a nice meal in the casino and Paul stayed and played for a while. I just headed back to the truck for some welcome rest and alone time. When morning came I decided I was going to rig up specifically for steelhead. The previous evening we'd talked to Johnny and he said the fish were just starting to trickle in to the rapids and most of the larger ones were down at the base in the deeper water, still staging. But the fish he had been getting were in behind the chinooks and specifically targeting eggs. It was time to resort to indicator fishing on and behind the redds. I started riht up on the beds in with the salmon as first light began to poke into the sky. I hooked up once but came unbuttoned after about 20 seconds or so. In the low light it was hard to see and I fouled a salmon or tow, luckily though they just pulled off easily.

As the sun came up I moved down into the darker water behind them and again the line came tight again and shot off. This time the small steelhead came clear of the water before the fly pulled free. Before the sun rose too high I hooked up a third time, this time on a five or six pounder, but again I couldn't drive the hook home and stay connected. I was pretty frustrated with myself at this point. With the hgiher sun the strikes slowed right down and Paul and I headed back out to the deeper water of my favourite pool. Paul did hook up with a bullet of a steelhead that hit like a freight train and lept two or three times before throwing the hook. It was a decent fish and it was a real shame for Paul that it didn't play the game for a little longer. Still a few minutes later he was on again, this time with a big, deeply coloured buck with a fully developed kype. Being a bigger fish it put up a good show took quite some time to come to the net. It was a fitting last fish, deep and heavy.

Last fish of the trip - a big atlantic

It was raining and getting colder. Paul's hands and lips were freezing and his resolve was weakening. I headed back up behind the reds for one final attempt at an egg-eating steelhead. Finally the rod doubled over but as the fish shot past me I saw it wasn't a steelhead. In fact it was a giant chinook, still clean and somewhat silver. It was mouth hooked and I almost couldn't believe it. It was also one of the most stubborn fish I've played up there. Whenever I thought it was beat it would shoot back out into the heavy water and dig it's nose down. I fought that thing for over 45 minutes and several times Paul headed out to net it. Each time it saw him or the net and took off again. When the drizzle started to freeze and both of our hands were freezing I began to get more frustrated. It was just a chinook after all. I tighten up the drag and palmed the reel. Under the pressure the tired old buck circled back into the shallow water. he did this a few times and each time I shortened up on him. Finally though, I got just too heavy handed and the hook pulled free. Oh well. My back, shoulders and arms hurt. My hands and face were frozen, the wind was coming up, and my stomach was grumbling. I looked at Paul and his fishing spirit was nowhere to be seen. It seemed we were done.

We grabbed one final meal at Wendys and, after a brief heart attack when I couldn't find my green card, headed back across the border into Americaland. we did have one final sidetrack before heading back though. Paul wanted to pick up trinkets for his family and I wanted to show him the mighty mackinaw bridge so we headed south to the tourist trap on the other side of the bridge. I'm always impressed crossing that thing and Paul had a great time blowing hundreds of dollars on an assortment of momentos and toys. The store owners loved him. We flirted with the pretty gas station attendants again but aside from that it was an uneventful drive back. The kids were very excited to see us the next morning but it wasn't easy getting out of our beds to play with them. All in all it had been a pretty successful trip.

Pit stop on the road to the Soo

2010-10-18T18:53:00.000-07:00

After saying our goodbyes to the kids at Wisconsin Dells Paul and I were again on the road in search of adventure, fun and a few fish. It was only a couple of hours to our destination but we required a lengthy stop to try and determine the cause of some faulty trailer lights. Still, it wasn't a big problem. We did have one memorable moment though. We were arriving at a four way stop and rolled to a stop (and yes, it was a complete stop in case you're wondering). To my right was a group of three or four guys out riding their harleys all dressed in their leather chaps and bandanas. These weren't the serious biker type but more the try-hards with a few too many dollars and desperately trying to fight off midlife, dorkiness, balding, erectile dysfunction, failure to attract a sexual partner, or some combination of those things. Even if my description is lacking, I'm sure you all know the type (and if you are one of them and reading this - piss off I don't like you!).

Anyway, I'm not quite sure exactly what was their thinking but I was at a complete stop, had waited for someone crossing the intersection from my left and oncoming, and now entered the intersection. These guys were still slowly motoring up to the stop sign. For whatever reason as I passed through and (and I think this is quite telling of the degree of manhood these guys had) had cleared the intersection one of them yelled and gestured towards me " you asshole" at the top of his lungs in whiniest American accent. I looked at Paul and neither of us could figure out what he was so upset about but I went to pull over and get him to either put up or shut up because I'm not willing to take shit from some pathetic, middle aged loser that thinks he's more than he is just because he's on a bike that sometimes are ridden by guys with balls. Paul took a more comical view of things and urged me to keep driving and we began joking about the situation. Although I must say, I kept secretly hoping I'd see those guys cruising past one of the country roads we were on, especially when we were pulled over dealing with the trailer light problem.

But as usually happens with such things the event faded as we joked around and flirted with girls in the gas stations (using our heaviest accents and australianisms) and deliberated over the important things in life, such as which chocolate bars were the greatest ones in the world and whether or not one type of cheese had a greater capacity to generate gas when eaten than another type, or if perhaps genetics played some role in the extent to which various cheeses could predispose one to gaseous buildup. Despite some serious time spent on the subject we never did shed light to the answer on this most perplexing problem. Perhaps we had spent too long in the truck together? Paul and I never were ones to spend too much time trying to solve the world's problems or get too nosey about the many complications in one another's lives.

Considering the conversation topics it was probably good that we good to the Manitowoc River late in the afternoon. There weren't many people about and we didn't have much light left in the day so we rigged up quickly and headed down to hit the stream. The water level was ghastly low and warm and there weren't many fish about. We had to walk quite a way downstream to even find a few fish. When we did spot some fish Paul got into position and began trying to seduce an American Chinook salmon. It didn't take long before he was hooked up to a small buck. I netted it for him, we took a couple of pictures and fished a little while longer. The few fish we found were stale and spooky and highly stressed from the high water temperatures. With the fading light it wasn't hard to convince Paul to head back to the truck.

Heading downstream looking for good water The water was low but colors were OK Paul's first American Salmon

I moved the truck up to another part of the park so we could access some new water in the morning before we munched down on some canned food (I can't remember exactly what it was) and lasagne. After a couple of days with the kids at the waterpark we both collapsed into heavy sleep. We were woken up at 2am by a loud thumping on the truck. I was ready to get out and kill the someone shining their torch into my truck but that mood changed when the topper opened and I saw the cop and his badge. He wasn't happy that we'd disobeyed the "no camping" sign and didn't buy our excuse that because we didn't have a tent we weren't really camping. He became less serious when he'd checked our stuff and found we didn't have any fish on us and weren't out netting or otherwise poaching fish but was still a little pumped up on badge power for my liking. Still, he gave us the option of driving away or staying and sleeping. However we could only stay is he wrote us up a ticket for a couple hundred dollars. That sounded fair and we opted to get out of there. The river was in crap shape anyway.

We were still tired and I knew once the adrenalin left we'd again be sleepy so I opted to park the truck behind a 24 hour gas station just a few minutes up the road, right by the Branch River. We slept until the sun had cleared the horizon before casually making our way down to the river. From the path along the river there had been a lot of foot traffic over the weekend and the way the fish were acting they had been "fished" over a lot. This was prime gavel-raping water but we did find a few spooky fish to cast to but they were spooky. One fish shot off into the shallows and Paul caught it with his bare hands. So yes, it seems Paul is very good with his hands!

A hand caught king salmon

As we came to some prime gravel we found a local fella there with his gravel-raping gear set up with a heavy sinker followed by a stout treble hook. No doubt these fish had seen a lot of that over the lat couple of days. I was pretty pleased when Paul mentioned he'd had enough of fishing to crusty, stale kings. It was on to greener pastures.

Away we go along Lake Michaigan

Kalahari Water Park

2010-10-14T09:06:00.000-07:00

up north

2010-10-13T19:30:00.000-07:00

After a successful trip to Iowa and a visit to Cabelas it was time to head off seeking fish a little larger than the trout we'd caught a day or two before. The only problem was the unseasonably warm temperatures that would have shut down the salmon run pretty much everywhere. If we had any chance it would be as far north as we could go. So a little after midnight Paul and I were in the truck and driving north in Wisconsin towards the Brule River. The target would be early season steelhead or lake-run brown trout.

But fishing the Brule was just a step on the way further north, all the way up to Nipigon. The two of us made it a couple of hours north before we had to pull up on the side of the road for a couple of hours sleep in the back of the truck. After a couple more hours we were back on the road and off. There was a short, unscheduled, emergency bathroom stop along the only stretch of Wisconsin highway without a gas station or rest stop or some kind of bathroom, (not to mention the harsh, scratchy weedy plants that lined the road). Of course my brother delighted in holding out on delivering the toilet paper until my final desperate shrills and I'd exhausted every bush within stretching reach. Clearly he was confident he wouldn't be caught in the reverse situation.

As the sun began coming up we drove through the township of Brule and on to the river. My butt was somewhat raw and shared space in my underwear with an assortment of bark chips, grasses, twigs, dirt and various other sharp and unpleasant materials. But I knew better than to voice one word of discomfort - that would just fuel my brothers sense of accomplishment and probably egg him on to grander pranks. I needed time to plan my revenge first. There were plenty of guys out (mainly in fancy cars from Minnesota). Paul and I hit two spots, one I've fished a lot and another I've never fished. Both spots I fished swinging a spey rod and Paul went with spinning tackle. We worked the water pretty thoroughly and managed only a few small stream trout. However, Paul did agree it is a pretty river and fun to fish, even though there are probably less fish swim in it than fishermen that fish it.

Paul on the banks of the Bois Brule River

After we'd broken down our rods it was time to break out my first attempt at revenge. My brother likes spicy food and prides himself on "the hotter the better". There's a new variety of Doritos on the marker that are labelled as third degree burn and they are HOT. I opened the packet and covered the label with my hand and let him dig in. He grabbed a large handful and shoved them in his unsuspecting mouth. To this day I can't tell you exactly how his mouth felt but there was several moments of silence and although he kept a stoic face, behind his eyes betrayed the effort he was putting forth to maintain his calm exterior. It was only a few moments before he regained enough composure to casually say "they taste good but they are fairly spicy". He waited just enough time so as to make it seem he was just casually reaching for a drink to cool his thirst but I suspect it was to subdue the last of the flames smoldering away on his tongue. He did reach for more of those chips but certainly they were only eaten a few at a time, and always with an open beverage close by. I turned and examined his face closely. His sly grin admitted I had gotten him but he hadn't cracked enough to give me any gloating rights, but we both knew I'd exacted a little of my revenge.

Moments later we were driving west and before we knew it we were crossing the at Louis River and entering Duluth and heading up the north shore. Although we hadn't been driving long fatigue was beginning to set in and by the time we made it to Tettagouche State Park I couldn't keep my eyes open. Despite a well-drilling rig a few meters away the two of us fell into a heavy sleep for a good few hours. The sun was out and it was quite warm.

Crossing into Duluth

The sun was dipping low in the sky as we pushed the last couple of hours north to the border. The crossing into Canada was easy and the drive up to Nipigon uneventful. We hit the turnoff from the border towards Alexander's Dam and there was some pretty heavy fog, blocking the starlight and scenery. We got to the boat ramp and climbed into our sleeping bags, ready for a decent chunk of sleep for the night.

Mist over the Nipigon Paul rises, looks around then lights one up Dead salmon carcasses line the river upstream to the dam

First light came and went without the two of us rising. It was just too cosy under the blankets and things to climb out into the fog and cold. Finally I couldn't take it any more. Paul seemed dead to the world as I got up and rigged up the a two handed rod rigged with classic spey flies. I went upstream and there were gulls, bald and golden eagles everywhere, feeding on the spent salmon carcasses along the shore line. Deep bodied chinooks porpoised in the current but seemed oblivious to my numerous offerings of the fly-clad type. Although I would have been pleased by the unexpected strike of an aggressive salmon, what I was hoping for was an early season steelhead, laker or even a coaster. I fished without success for some time before I saw Paul strolling along the river, spinning rod in hand. We both fished lucklessly for some time before heading back to the ramp and putting in the boat. I'd never been downstream and it was fun to explore the heavy currents and seams. We started to notice a number of the river bends with rocky gravel held significant numbers of spawning chinook salmon up on their beds. We closely inspected a few of these and soon found one heavily loaded with these brutes. Downstream slightly was a sandy section of shoreline out of the heavy current so I pulled the boat in there and the two of us walked upstream to where the fish were in the shallows.

A small stream tumbles into the main river A bald eagle watches on

As it turned out the crystal clear water was deeper than we thought and the fish were in at least 60cm (2 feet) of water. It was difficult to get a good drift or cast so as to get out offering close to the fishes mouth. While I swung streamers out in the current, Paul focused on the spawning fish. It was his first time fishing to salmon of any sort and it wasn't long before he was hooked in to his first. Unfortunately it, and the next few, liberated themselves before coming to the net. Finally though he got a spawned out hen to the net. She was dark and in poor condition, as well as being one of the smallest fish on that stretch of gravel. Still, it was Paul's first salmon and all of the fish in this river are wild and many generations removed from stocked fish.

Sorry to say it Paul, but that is one crusty salmon!

The salmon were dark and clearly the run was winding down. Although there was probably a few fresher fish around that might eat, by far the majority of the run were intent only on spawning or spawned out and just waiting (and hoping by the look of a few of them) to die. They seem to be tough to kill on this river as it is the only one I've caught a fish with it's eye already pecked out by seagulls. We fished until lunchtime and then decided to give it up. We only had the day and there was other sights I wanted to show him. There was no point wasting our time fishing to stale chinooks all day. We took a few photos of the spectacular landscape and ate a lunch at a peculiar diner in the township of Nipigon before arriving at our first stop, the Jackpine River. We walked, chatting, joking and searching the pools, tailouts and runs for fish. There was no sign except a few of the dead pink salmon on the banks, remnants of those that had choked up the stream when I was there only a few weeks before.

A typical view into Nipigon Bay The Jackpine River

As the sun got lower we gave up on the Jackpine and there was one place I really wanted to try. I read about it but the last time I was here the wind and waves were too much to make it practical but the wind was dead calm and it was still warm enough to give it a try. The gravel river itself doesn't really provide much of a fishery but at the mouth is a vast, shallow sand flat. These flats attract cruising pods of steelhead, lake trout, coho, pink and king salmon as well as coasters. In many ways it's similar to a type of fishing I grew up doing in Australia and I wondered if Paul would enjoy it equally. When we got out on the water the sun was setting and throwing a brilliant orange and red sunset. I had a great time wandering around on the flats, scanning and casting for those cruising fish. Paul and I stayed close enough together to talk and laugh (mostly about the fact he was losing feeling in his hands and wondering just how cold they had to get before frostbite set in) and it was really a good time. We had a great time but did we catch any fish? No, but would I write about it here if we had??????

Just me on the flats Paul enjoying himself A pair of Aussies in Canada

As the sun set it did get cold, especially as a slight land breeze set in from the north. When my feet were numb in the waders I headed out to where Paul had long since taken refuge. We headed back to the truck, recovered the landing net I'd left along the Jackpine River and headed back for the border. We arrived at the border late and weren't really in the mood for problems. But, as luck would have it, the bored American border guards decided to make us come inside and answer a heap of questions while they searched the truck and boat. Paul swears it's because my long, unkempt hair and beard made me look like a drug lord and by the way they singled me out for most of the questions I think he might have been right. Luckily for us there wasn't anything problematic for us to be found and we got on our way.

Unfortunately for us though that wasn't the last of our dramas. I somehow let the fuel level get low on the truck and, knowing the north shore pretty well, decided I could make it to the next small town. As it turned out there was no gas station at that town so I had to hope I'd make it all the way to Silver Bay. Well, we were running on fumes when we made it and finally saw a gas station. We both sighed a huge sigh. When I got out I discovered it was not pay at the pump and the station was closed. I said a few choice words and we headed into the little town in search of another one. We found one and it was pay at the pump and out nervous laughter rang out. It nearly turned bad when my Cabelas card was denied. As it turned out the people at Cabelas had cancelled it because it had some charges from Canada and they cancelled it as a precaution. But at the time I was one unhappy camper. When the second credit card worked Paul and I were both silent and the sound of the pump filling our tank with fuel was music to our ears.

Coming into "the cities"Crossing the Mississippi and on to the last stretch of the drive

We still had five hours of driving to do and we had to take two or three sleep stops on the way so we could make it back to Plainview so we could pick up the kids and head over to a waterpark in Wisconsin Dells, and from there, jump off onto the main fishing trip of Paul's visit.

Paul's First Day

2010-10-12T19:28:00.000-07:00

My brother Paul arrived in Rochester at around 2pm on Monday and we immediately headed out for a meal and I began informing him of his fishing options. Of course, in order to be sanctioned by the keepers of the family budgets, this was officially a family visit and that was the number one priority, but fishing needed to be discussed early on in the trip.

Fresh off the plane and discussing fishing plans

Tuesday morning we were driving south into Iowa (Minnesota trout season was over) and looking for likely spots. On the way I showed his some of my usual fishing haunts just to give him a picture in his mind when I'm telling him about the multitudes of fish I plan to catch there in the coming years. We didn't really know where we were going (short of Iowa) and planned on taking highway 52 until we hit a decent trout stream. We did end up deviating slightly before we found a little stream that looked pretty good. We'd taken a leisurely pace and fished a few streams with only a little brown trout to our names so it was early afternoon when we got our first casts into the water. First cast about five fish came out and attacked Paul's spinner. A couple of casts later he had a nice stocked rainbow in his hand. It was time for me to put on my waders, grab the flyrod and join him.

A stream on the way

We got into a heap of fish, mostly cookie-cutter rainbows probably stocked in the last stocking but the stream was pretty and every bend looked as inviting as the last. We caught rainbows at will and a number of brook trout. Paul caught a very nice one and yes, it was larger than any of the ones our father caught (I wrote that just for you Paul - not that he's competing at all).

A nice Brook Trout

A typical example of the rainbows on offer

It was almost a shame when it got dark and we had to leave but Paul was proud to leave a piece of himself in Iowa, even if it was up the bank and covered in leaves. Hopefully I'll get back to that stream at some point. There was a nice park running along it with picnic tables and a walking and biking path. It was a good way to start the trip.

Back to the Apostles

2010-10-10T07:01:00.000-07:00

Paul was going to arrive in just a couple of days and I was pretty excited, as were the kids. The weather was unseasonably warm and I figured, rather than just sit around and count the hours until I had to go to the airport and pick my brother up, we could take a family trip up to Chequamenon Bay and the Apostle Islands. I'd just been there the weekend before and it was really nice so I thought it would be great to explore the Apostle Islands a little more than for just a couple of hours like we did in August. It had been a long drive back to Plainview the evening before as I'd been out scouting rivers in eastern Wisconsin for king salmon runs so we didn't get all the camping stuff loaded and on the road until almost 10am Saturday. The kids were excited and although I was still a little tired the constant chatter and banter of happy kids in the back kept my head clear.

However, after a couple of hours in the car the happy banter changed to niggle and squabbling and Jessica informed me they were hungry so we stopped in a small town in Wisconsin called Ridgeland at a nice park with a big play area. The kids were thrilled and ran around playing for ages. The sun was out and it was quite warm.

The Park in Ridgeland

After a picnic lunch we loaded up again and soon the kids were napping and we continued on our way. We arrived at the campground in Washburn mid afternoon to blue skies and light breezes and a campground that was moderately full. We set up camp before I slipped the boat into the lake and loaded up the kids for a bit of a motor around. They did have fun but it was short lived as the combination of cooler air, a big playset at the campground waiting to be explored and grandma's pending arrival all meant they would rather be back at the campground. So I dumped them back with their mum and took some time to play around looking for the monstrous bass that the bay is famous for. I knew if I let myself go chasing salmon or trout I'd get obsessed and lose track of the fact that this was a trip about the kids. But it was always right there tempting me.

The campsite dock Looking back to the campground shoreline From dock towards campground

When I got back to the campsite grandma had arrived and it was dark. Everyone had eaten dinner and were helping grandma set up her tent. The kids were excited but easily distracted and showing all the signs of being over tired. When they did get into their sleeping bags they crashed, so I'm told, as I was out like a light within moments of my head hitting the pillow.

I was up pretty early and headed out for a fishing session as the sun came up and grandma was down with the kids at the playground when I made it back to the boat ramp. We quickly broke camp, convinced the kids to leave the playground, then headed to Bayfield. We stopped at "the egg bake" for a hearty brunch then made our way to the National Lakeshore marina so we could put the boat in and explore a new section of the Apostle Islands. The air was brisk, clear and inviting. The trees were past peak and the roads were covered in lakes of golden leaves that flittered as I drove along them. There were very few people about in no time we were loaded up and the boat was headed towards the lighthouse on Rasberry Island. This is probably the most visited of those in the islands and is certainly pretty. In recent times I've become quite partial to lighthouses and my mind fills with pleasant thoughts when I see them.

Rasberry Island Lighthouse Pierce and Grandma A closer look Several of the Apostle Islands viewed from Rasberry Island

The next attraction that caught our attention was the sea caves along the shoreline of Sand Island. Lara, Jessica and I had seen some sea caves on another Island earlier in the year but these ones were more extensive and deeper. In fact there was one that was large enough for us to enter into with the boat and then motor along and come out of a different cave entrance. It was really cool. I'd already mentioned to the kids to keep their eyes peeled for bears on Sand Island so Pierce got quite scared he worked out we were going into a cave (where bears live) on an island where bears live. Luckily after the first time through he was fine and grandma helped him through it.

Inside a sea cave

Deep inside a sea cave

A little further along the shore of Sand Island was another lighthouse. This one didn't have a good boat landing. Like many spots on these islands it would be easy to explore with a kayak though. By this time it was getting quite late and we still had a big drive ahead of us so we had to head back to the marina and hit the road.

Sand Island Lighthouse Family fun on the boat Pierce and Grandma bonding under the blankets

The drive home was pretty uneventful except I saw a dead bear off the side of the road. It was only a young bear but I had to check it out. It didn't seem to have any sign of trauma and it looked as though it had come from in the brush, not from the road. The teeth and gums were still moist and the eyes weren't glossed over yet, but underneath looked like a shotgun blast and this wound already had it's share of flies hanging about. It couldn't just let all that bear hair waste away (it costs too much at fly shops) so I chopped off a fair amount. I cut out a few bear claws. I felt a bit weird but I figured he didn't need them anymore. It's only the first time I've seen a bear as road kill and I've done a fair bit of driving around the place in the last ten years or so.

The little bear

Wisconsin Chinook Salmon Scouting

2010-10-08T18:33:00.000-07:00

With my brothers arrival only a few short days away I really wanted to scout out the condition of the chinook (king) salmon run on the Wisconsin Rivers. With Paul only around for ten days I didn't want him to fish the urban settings of the SE rivers and I know the Manitowoc gets a good push of big salmon. Very late Thursday night I left Plainview heading east. I arrived at the park about a mile or so downstream of the dam and climbed in the back of the truck for a couple of hours sleep. I rose with the first light and it wasn't too cold at all. In fact it was surprisingly warm for October. I knew the weather forecast was for clear skies so I figured my best chance of fish was early and before the sun got high in the sky.

As I climbed into the river there were a few fish pushing up through the shallows but not many at all. Within a few minutes I drifted through a knee deep pool and my fly stopped as though it hit a rock or stump. I lifted the rod to pull the fly free and the "snag" shook it's head and charged doggedly upstream. It was a heavy fish and I could see clearly in the low light it was a large one as it charged through the shallows with it's deep, broad back exposed. Unfortunately it was hooked in a stretch of river with many riffles and not many pools so there wasn't much water for it to run in. In under five minutes or so I had it netted and on the bank. It was dark and the only camera I had with me was my phone. Let's just say it doesn't take the best pictures in low light. I released the buck and went off in search of other active fish.

The big buck

There really weren't many fish in and finding sparring males was too challenging. There were a few spawning pairs with eager males hanging around so I tended to focus on them. I got another with an egg-sucking leech and then had to resort to drifting small egg flies to "hook" (probably more like floss) another one. There just weren't the numbers of fish in to seek out the fish that were going to actively eat a fly.

Another decent buck

By 10am I gave up on that river and figured I'd just go and check what was about. I'd only fished the Branch River in spring but because it was about a five minute drive I headed there. When I arrived at my usual spot there was three trucks there. I wandered upstream and soon spotted fish. There had been very few redds on the Manitowoc but there was a lot of spawning activity on the Branch. Also, the fish were very much in spawning mode and clearly this tributary was at least a week or so ahead of the Manitowoc. It's so shallow I knew it must get beaten up by gravel-rapists and that was confirmed as I got upstream and saw a couple of guys practicing their method of "fishing" with oversized stringers. I did get one fish to eat an egg fly but again it may well have been flossed and then headed much further upstream to water I hadn't fished before.

First Salmon from the Branch River

These fish seemed less spooky and perhaps even looked at the fly. The sun was high in the sky at this point and I was sweating in just a half buttoned up shirt. It certainly wasn't conditions conducive to salmon fishing. I landed one or two more then just lost the sport of it.

Upstream section of the Branch River Last fish of the day

Time was getting away from me and I wanted to go south and check the Sheboygan and Pigeon rivers. They were very disappointing. Really low and warm water clogged with Illinois fishermen. It was a lovely afternoon for a stroll along the Pigeon River. I remembered back to another pleasurable walk along this river back in the spring and even before then, when I hooked my first steelhead, and later both Ted and I caught our first steelhead in this little gem. I have some nice memories along this stream. But I had to get going before dark so I could get the family out for the weekend and I wouldn't sit around counting the minutes before Paul got into town.

Chequamenon Bay

2010-10-03T15:57:00.000-07:00

As I sit here getting ready to have my daughter Natalya's Birthday dinner (December 15th) I'm digging back in my memory to try and remember the specifics of this trip. What's fuzzy is just why I went. Was I annoyed at work? Was I annoyed at home? Did I just get it in my bonnet that I wanted to go and catch a splake? I must say, the latter rings true as I vaguely remember declaring that I would fish Chequamenon Bay every weekend until I caught a splake.

Regardless of my reason for going (and you know it doesn't take much of a reason for me to go fishing) I know I was late leaving Saturday and not exactly sure of my destination. Would I head to the Bois Brule River and fish for Lake Run Brown trout (although it was probably still very high from the heavy rains the weekend before), maybe across to Minnesota's north shore and chase coasters, or Ashland, Washburn or Bayfield along Chequamenon Bay for splake. It was late afternoon when I left and very late when I arrived at the boatramp in Ashland, Wisconsin. Outside seemed cold and clear but it was cosy in the back of the truck, even though I slept very poorly.

When morning came there was the seasons first frost, a heavy frost, on the ground and the air was brisk. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and only the lightest breeze blew. My hands froze as I set up the boat and my bare feet lost all feeling as I walked from my parked truck back down to the boat tied up at the dock. I soon had the bow pointed out into the bay and winced in pain as the blood returned to my feet and the boiling heat radiated through them. From the Ashland (Eastern Side) of the bay I scanned the shoreline across the bay for dips that might indicated streams flowing into the bay, before zipping across to a promising stretch of water just south of Washburn. The depth sounder indicated vast schools of bait but numerous passes through failed to yield a strike. The sun was coming up and the trees were only days from peak colors. The water was brilliant blue, bathing in the rays of sunshine streaming down from above.

The shoreline

After running along and looking at the leaf show, sandstone cliffs, and luxurious summer homes I ran the boat to the mouth of one of the streams that empties into the bay. Clearly I wasn't the only one with that idea as I was one of a flotilla of boats ranging in size from sea kayaks to 42 foot cruisers. Most were running the breakline out a few hundred feet from the mouth but I opted to head in closer to where the stream entered. With my 6 weight I tied on a clouser minnow fly to a sink-tip line and began slow stripping motions across the the first drop off. I had no action for at least a half hour and then, out of nowhere, the rod throbbed a couple of times, there was a short pause before the reel caught up and then screamed horror as a silver missile went airborne about forty feet from me. In the deep, open water this dime bright predator zipped about and I sure felt under-gunned with a 6 weight rod.

Some time later I had a fantastic Lake Superior coho salmon in the live well. Not more than ten minutes later her twin was flopping around on the deck. I was beginning to attract the attention of the trolling crowd and with each pass they got closer and closer. I was getting squeezed out and didn't feel like battling all the other boats. Amidst the boat traffic and with the sun getting higher and higher I fished for another half hour or so without any luck. I gave it up and decided to troll a little deeper using a downrigger and perhaps, I could get away from the crowds a little.

Coho Number 1 Coho Number 2

I fished until close to midday without any luck until finally the line pulled clear of the rigger clip and climbed through the water to the surface. I grabbed the rod and drove home the hook. I was a little disappointed as the weight was a little less than the earlier fish.

The fight wasn't spectacular and I soon had the fish boatside but my mood rapidly went up when I got a good look. I saw the forked tail of a laker but the beautiful markings of the brook trout. It was my first ever splake. I'd been chasing this particular type of fish for three or four years now and finally getting open to hand felt pretty good. Admittedly it wasn't a large one but that was just fine with me. The trip was a success!

My first ever splake (brook trout crossed with a lake trout)

With no clouds in the sky and bright sunshine the place lost that "fishy" feel. I trolled about for a while just out enjoying the fall weather before heading back to the ramp because I was getting hungry and tired. Back in Ashland I bought some ice to keep the salmon and splake cold then climbed in the back of the truck for a nap.

As the shadows began to grow longer I pulled out on highway 2 and headed west towards the Bois Brule River. When I got there I was very annoyed. With the recent rains every fisherman's car park was filled with fancy BMW and Lexus SUVs with Minnesota licence plates. The obnoxious, yuppy flyfishing crowd from Minneapolis had arrived in droves. These guys are completely outfitted in the best waders and brandname rod and reels but lack any sort of grace, appreciation or understanding of how to apply their art. If I had my way, stores wouldn't sell you this fine equipment until you demonstrated the ability to appreciate it's worth over cheaper varieties. Having said this, I wonder what equipment I'd be fishing with?

I drove all the way down to the river mouth and even it was stacked with guys. The mouth really made my laugh as five guys choked it and two of them had obviously (at least I hope that's their excuse) just bought new two handed rods and were trying to apply what looked like some sort of pathetic version of a spey cast. I sat watching and hoping for just one rogue gust of wind to whip through those five guys and tangle them up into a giant ball of mess but it didn't happen. I gave up hope and headed back towards the highway.

There is very little cell phone reception along the river and at one spot some came in. I had pulled off the road in this spot before so I thought little of it. However, the season was late and the grasses were high and somewhat masking the height of the drop. Also the rains kept deep puddles and the soft mud was slippery. My left side wheels slipped and down and across I was sucked into the ditch. The truck got to 45 degrees and over she rolled. Perhaps it would have rolled over completely had it not been for the boat and trailer resisting the roll. It took me a few minutes to register what had happened but luckily for me a couple stopped and helped get me straightened up and then inching forward he towed me up and back onto the road. A brief inspection of the truck and everything looked ok so I trundled off down the road, a little shaken but glad it happened on one of the less remote rivers I fish. You'll notice the vehicle that pulled me out was a pickup with Wisconsin plates and not one of the fancy foreign cars with Minnesotan licence plates. I will mention several of them drove past and did nothing. I guess it's hard to see stranded motorists on the side of the road with your head shoved up your own backside! Next time a pair of these guys (they rarely travel alone) drops in on a pool I'm fishing instead of just quietly walking away, I might just stand my ground and let them have a piece of my mind. Being an ignorant duche bag isn't an excuse for not having river etiquette in my mind anymore!

So with that little shake up I headed back to Plainview and another week of work. There was only eight days until my brother's arrival and I was certainly getting excited.

Top of Lake Superior

2010-09-16T18:48:00.000-07:00

It's been something I've been planning and thinking about for a long time. Ever since I'd read about the historical significance and beauty of the coaster brook trout. I've wanted to travel Lake Superior's northern shore seeking out coasters in the early fall. Finally I just bit the bullet and said "let's go". I am very familiar with the north shore of Minnesota and stopped there on Friday night. Early in the morning I fished the Arrowhead Brule River and the pink salmon were present in the lowest pools but skittish. The weekend prior I had scored a number of fresh pink salmon that were staging at the mouth of the Baptism River on the spey throwing small, wet flies. These fish were already podded up into dense schools and quite spooky but eating with reasonable frequency. The fish in the lower pools were very spooky and not eating (at least not my flies). They were just shooting up and down the pool almost as though they were waiting for the urge to jump up on the gravel.

It wasn't long though before I knew it was time to head across the border. It was the first time I'd been north of the border from Grand Portage and I was in two minds about putting the boat in at Thunder Bay. Eventually though, I decided to continue up to Nipigon and the mighty Nipigon River.

First Look at Nipigon River Nipigon River under the trans-Canada Bridge

The town of Nipigon is small and nestled in the hills overlooking the mighty river. And when I say mighty, it certainly is. I put the boat in and soon felt the surging current pushing against the boat. I cast large streamer patterns on a full sink line but all to no avail. I then headed down towards the mouth and out into Nipigon Bay. What a cool place! Towering cliffs and clear water. The town of Redrock looked like a nice place and as the sun peaked over the rain clouds a brilliant rainbow popped out, then a bright sunset filled the sky.

The Cliffs across from Redrock A bright double rainbow At one point I had a circle rainbow with the reflection in the water Sunset on the Nipigon

After having what turned out to be a curious way to order and pay for a meal and get gas (wow gas is expensive in Canada!) it was time to head the 15km up the Nipigon River to the first of four hydroelectric dams on the river - Alexander's dam. It was dark, I was tired and for all I know it snowed monkeys outside as I slept so heavily. With the first light though I was up and down the short trail to view the river. Oh it was magnificent. Deep with dark edges and fast seams, shallow gravel dropping into the depths and flowing across deep shelves and holding water. I was salivating to break out the spey and start swinging butt monkeys!

Power plant at Alexander's Dam That's an eager fisherman

Unfortunately it didn't start out well. As I was stripping out my line it became wrapped around a rock. As I pulled it split into two. I stood staring at it for a full few seconds as what had happened registered. I didn't pull very hard at all. I couldn't believe it! As it sank in I felt a rage fill up inside me. This certainly wasn't the start I wanted and shouldn't have happened with a virtually brand new "top of the line" flyline. I knotted the two lines together (of course the knot was right at the point half way between the balancing point and head so any fish hooked couldn't be wound up all the way to the angler) and began swinging. I was pretty pissed off and muttering foul words about the line makers. Admittedly though, the line still cast quite well. I was still feeling a huge knot in my stomach and cursing my luck a few minutes later when there came a bone-jarring strike towards the end of the swing. No doubt about it! With the current pulling directly downstream the heavy fish had some room to work and used the river well. I knew I couldn't get down level and shorten up on the fish on account of my knotted line so I tried to stay upstream and have her fight it out against the current. Everytime she'd turn to try and head downstream I'd put the brakes on her. I had no choice with the line, and also because of a heap of old timber and railway spikes just downstream of me. If she got into there I would be done for sure.

I saw the huge red, square tail flailing about and got so excited. I knew what was on the end of the line and felt myself shaking now. This was it! After what felt like an eternity (in reality it wasn't a long fight) I was able to swing the fish into the shallows and handle my prize. Wow. I was one happy camper. Being such a jewel I was eager to get it back into the water unharmed, so after a couple of pics I revived her and watched as she swam away.

First Coaster - swinging on the spey Another view

There were a number of boats trolling around and catching the odd fish and I originally thought they were coasters but I began to realize there were plenty of pinks and chinook salmon swimming about too. Most were still milling around and waiting for the hormones to push them onto the gravel but there were a few already on beds. I found a few and fished to them pretty hard. I fouled a couple and finally got one in (or maybe just under) the mouth. Close enough but it wasn't in the best shape. I put it back in the water suspecting it would be dead by nightfall. I also hooked and landed another that had the strangest eyes (maybe it had been fouled there previously) but again, not really what you'd call a player fish.

Crusty Chinook Check out this Chinook - I'm telling you, Canadians are weird

I fished late into the darkness until a bear moving along the bank got a little too close for comfort. I was alone and felt like I was in a wilderness setting. I began to hear wolves howling in the distance and figured it would be wild enough for me in the back of the truck. At one point I did have to chase off a bear that came a little too close to camp but once asleep I was fine. The stars were out and magnificent but I didn't see them too long.

I was out swinging big white double bunnystrips at first light and as the first rays of light poked through a 50cm or so lake trout materialized on the end of my line as I stripped it from the depths. It was a tough battle with dogged plunges and turns but no blistering runs or leaps. As I got to the knot in my line I tried to hand-over-hand the line and almost had the fish to my feet before it kicked and released itself. Damn!

With the coming of light I took my boat out to the gravel I couldn't cast to from shore. There were so many pinks all through the shallows and a few chinooks skulking about. I fouled one that was on a bed but apart from that I didn't see any action. I tried the centerpin - nothing. I tried indicator fishing - nothing. Finally I swung small streamers on a full sink line and picked up one pink before another savage strike on the swinging streamer. Although not as large as my first coaster it was still very hefty for a brooky and a fish you'd be proud of most places. This fish had more room to run in but didn't compare to a steelhead of similar size. Still, you'd have to agree the beauty is stunning. It was late morning, and I wanted to see more of the area. I packed up and headed for the Jackpine River.

Fall colors along the bank Another nice coaster on a streamer

Typical view along the river - beautiful typical coastline of Nipigon Bay

After the short drive, and even shorter hike, I got to the first pool of the jackpine river and in the tailout there were fins stacked everywhere. It, and the whole pool was loaded with pinks. Just packed in full. Unlike other streams these fish seamed a little feistier and willing to eat. I got quite a few fish (half dozen or so) within ten minutes all in the mouth. After that they became a little skittish and there were a couple more but the ratio of fair to foul became higher. As I moved upstream this repeated itself time after time with the fish quite eager to hit a fly and then it would slow down to a trickle after ten minutes or so. It is a beautiful stream and around every bend I found myself just wanting to go further and further. I did manage one small coaster/brook trout and it wasn't in full spawning colors but still very pretty after looking at all those pinkies. I walked well downstream and found some larger, slower pools jam packed fish pinkies but none would eat at all. I kept looking up around the bends, trained to expect to see other fishermen, but they never came. FInally my mind grasped the fact that they never would come. To be fishing in such a place is priceless. It was getting to be late afternoon so I decided to inspect the cypress river.

A male Pink Salmon from Jackpine River Another Jackpine humpie Scenic Jackpine

Another smaller coaster

So pretty

The cypress river is beautiful. Although about five minutes away it is completely different stream. Deep dark pools stilling over scree fields, separated by riffles and runs. Truely this was an amazingly pretty river. Not wide or deep or intimidating in any way. Again the pinkies were in but because the pools were deeper they weren't fouling up. As I walked upstream I was loving the place but with the sky darkening I suddenly realized how remote it was. I had to cross the stream in several places to get back to the truck and just worried about the "what ifs" like spraining an ankle or slipping or anything like this so far from any people. I'd love to explore this river more but the half hour or so I saw of it was fantastic.

Dawn saw me waking up in the sleepy town of Rossport. The view of the place was stunning with sand beaches overlooking forested islands and a sheltered bay. It almost felt like Alaska. There were quaint bed and breakfasts and guest houses and little restaurants but still nothing fancy or over the top. I'll be back some time but I had to head off fishing again and the first destination I wanted to see was the Gravel River. My first impression wasn't good with low, flat water but what I really wanted to do was fish the mouth where it dumps into Lake Superior. Unfortunately the winds were up and there was no shartage of whitecaps. Not really a good day for it. I left disappointed but excited to check out the Steel River.

Rossport at dawn Beach at Rossport Gravel River

The Steel River is a bit further from the other three rivers, but worth the drive. It is a significantly bigger drainage but a good flyfishing river. Despite my troubles parking because of roadwork on the bridge I fell in love with it instantly. Almost first drift I was struck by a steelhead smolt (indicator fishing) and then a number of pinkies. But the coolest thing was my indicator was being attacked as it hit the water. Seeing that I changed to streamers and began get strikes from aggressive coasters. They weren't bashful but were hitting short and I wasn't hooking up at all. There were plenty of follows and "nips" but few solid smacks. Finally I got one to stay connected and it was a solid fish. I was already well pleased with the river so anything else would be a bonus. Unfortunately for me that was it, but ti was great fun watching the pretty brookies coming up and swatting at my streamers.

Coaster from the Steel River

I had aspirations to fish the flats so I didn't stay too long at the Steel but the waves were still crashing at the beach of Old Woman Bay. It was really rough and not even worth throwing a fly so I had to "settle" for hitting the St Mary's.

Old Woman Bay

It was quite late when I got down to the rapids and not many guys out. The few that were there were either kids or (^^)@)#$%^^ flogging away trying to rip spawning fish off beds that were 2 feet in front of them. There was one other guy out centerpinning in the main rapids so I waded out to the Canadian pool and began indicator fishing. My plan was to drift egg patterns behind spawning fish for steelhead. Well the rapids were full of pinks and decent numbers of chinooks but they weren't on beds yet. They were in that darting around and jumping , splashing in between mood when they don't seem to want anything to do with a fly. While I was fishing I the other guy hooked up with a nice atlantic and landed it but I got nothing. I did get to see a fine sunset though. As the sun dipped below the horizon I fished the tailout of the inside berm and was gobstruck when a smallish steelhead slammed my fly. He was hot as hell and zipped about. I didn't think steel came up into the inside berm in the fall but evidently they do. That was certainly a bonus and it was a fine way to see out the day.

Steelhead from St Mary's - drifting with indicator Sunset behind International Bridge

Next morning I was up early and out swinging away on the American Pool and had no luck until around 10am. Finally a solid slam and fish-on! Plenty of headshakes and solid runs with a couple of leaps. Yeh baby, and atlantic! I was so excited. I knew though at some point I'd get to the knot in my line and have to deal with it. My plan was to play the fish out for as long as I could but that was destroyed when it ran towards me. I grabbed the line and managed to hand over hand a very fresh fish for a good couple of minutes, but without the give of the rod it felt so unsure against the headshakes of the fish. I got it to within a few feet of me before the hook pulled and I was swearing like a mad man at the flyline company (Rio you owe me a flyline!!!). I stood up, looked around and realized I had very little to show for 6 hours of fishing. I decided to move and headed across the rapids and up to the gates at the very top.

It was quite the trudge but after just three drifts the rod just throbbed with a heavy weight and line peeled off into the backing like it was possessed. That fish was 150 yards in no time and again I was wondering about the knot in my line. Luckily for me the current is very strong out there and with so much line out I could play the fish until it was tired. It was all gassed up on eggs and fought very very well. Finally though I nervously swung the steelhead into the shallows downstream of me and collected my prize. Not a big steelhead but certainly a trophy for me. First steelhead on the spey rod. I had a feeling I was going to kill them in there after getting one on only my third swing but it wasn't to be. After some time I switched over to fish the masses of pinkies swimming about.

I won't say it wasn't fun fishing to the pinks but they don't bite well and ............well.............I was fishing an eight weight! I did switch over to my centerpin and finally get a fish on it though. That was something. No I shouldn't complain it was fun but after every half hour or so I head out and swing again in the hopes of another steel or atlantic. I fished all over the rapids during the afternoon and came to the conclusion this is one of my favorite places to fish, especially swinging on the spey rod. It's loud enough and strong enough and peaceful enough to wash away your troubles and let you think again. I love it. I only managed more pinkies as the afternoon wore on and did meet a couple of local guys to chat with about fishing to finish off the trip. I grabbed a quick meal at Wendy's and then it was back to Minnesota. All in all it was a great trip and introduced me to places I hope to visit again and again.

Steelhead swinging on the spey!First fish on the centerpin So many Pink Salmon A 19 inch pinky Just me in the rapids Ever wondered why they're called humpies?

Northwestern Minnesota State Parks

2010-08-13T15:58:00.000-07:00

- 8/13/2010

Saturday: Brule River State Forest

After a change in plans (we were supposed to leave Friday afternoon but Jessica and I had some altercations that diverted our attentions) we ended up leaving on our trip on Saturday afternoon. The weather was unsettled (which was another reason we were waiting to decide our plans) but was supposed to be miserable in Plainview and chance of storms up by Duluth and fine out west. Eventually it was late and we decided to head up towards Duluth and wait out the night. If the weather was good in the morning we'd check out the Apostle Islands, if not, head north to pick up the kids.

As we drove the weather stayed pretty good until we got towards the Hayward region. Lightning and storms were visible to our north. By the time we got to the township of Brule the water was coming down in sheets, visibility was terrible, we were all tired and stressed from our previous couple of evenings "fun" and lightning and thunder was all around us. We found the nearest pullout in the forest and set-up a makeshift place to sleep in the back of the truck. It was a quarter to one in the morning. It's a good thing we only had Lara with us as it was crowded in there. She proved the most problem as it wasn't enough space for her apparently. I thought it was quite enough for the three of us but she's used to having a whole crib to herself I guess. Still, we all fell asleep and stayed dry while five inches of rain poured down outside.

Sunday: Apostle Islands and Grand Marais Harbor

When the morning came the sky was overcast but the rain had stopped, although the trees still dripped. The wind was down and it felt like the air had cleansed itself. Any thoughts I'd entertained of fishing the Brule River for lake-run brown trout (and yes, there was some thoughts entertained) was dashed upon seeing the bright red unfishable flows. Oh well, I didn't really have time anyway.........................still. We loaded into the truck and headed for Bayfield and ran into the first of many roadwork detours. The sun came beaming out on the drive and as we got into Bayfield. Jessica wanted me to try the breakfasts at "the egg toss" and it was very good. As we sat eating, the sky filled with grey clouds and by the time we got to the boat ramp the sky was all but clouded over. Still, the ceiling was quite high and it looked as though it would blow off as the morning progressed (besides that's what the forecast said).

So, after getting a map and stamp from the national park office, we headed out to see some of the sea caves on a number of the Islands. I can't remember all the islands but I'm sure of Stockton, Hermit and Basswood Islands. It was pretty cool to see and I'm sure it would be a great place to spend a few days zipping about. I certainly didn't feel my 17 footer was too small for this part of Lake Superior. It was amazing how clear the water was and you could clearly see the bottom in 20 feet of water. I sure wish I had more time to explore this place and it must be spectacular with the sun out, but now I've seen it and know what to expect and plan for should I go there in the future.

Jessica had promised her parents we wouldn't pick up the kids until after the parade ended at 1pm so we hung out in the islands for a little while and Lara had a great time. She loves being in the boat and playing and climbing around. She has no trouble with her lifejacket and needed to be restrained with a rope from climbing out and diving into Lake Superior. We stopped briefly on the way north to give Lara a break and I fished the mouth of the Baptism river in case some early coasters had showed up to spawn. I didn't fish too long (is there such a thing?) but saw no sign of fishy life.

We arrived at the Deschene cabin in time for an early dinner and the older kids were in high spirits. Lara was thrilled to see her older siblings and they were over the moon to see her and their parents. We ate a hearty taco salad and headed down to the Grand Marais harbor. I'd never been out in the big lake proper before and was a little apprehensive, but the wind was right down and it was flat out on the big lake. We all (four adults and three kids) piled into the boat and headed out of the harbor and south along the fabled north shore. We made it as far as an outcropping of rocks that was home to a mass of gulls, cormorants and other feathery critters before heading back into the setting sun. It was a nice afternoon but was getting late.

We finally began the last stretch of our journey for the day up to Mandi's place near Tower. I was already pretty tired and by the time a heavy storm rolled through I was struggling to stay awake. I think we made Mandi's place sometime after midnight and I fell asleep as soon as we got there. For all I know there were dragons and unicorns on the side of the road during that drive but I couldn't tell as I was just too exhausted.

Monday: Lake Vermillion, Rainy River and Franz Jevne State Park

We all rolled out of bed a little later than planned and because we'd arrived later than planned I felt it would be unfair on Mandi just to shoot through without her getting to visit with the kids. Besides, Jessica has suggested we could go out in the boat with her and she'd sounded pretty excited about it. We had fantastic weather for it as the sun was up, there were no clouds, it was warm and there was absolutely no wind or waves on the Lake. Lake Vermillion is a large lake famous for walleye and musky fishing but the weather wasn't conducive to that. We hooned around and saw the many islands and bays at top speed, with the kids all screaming with delight. We had a picnic lunch and then started back out west, (again much later than planned).

In theory the drive should have been an easy one but we hadn't planned very well for the road construction (I'll be deliberately ambiguous here as there was some hostility regarding this subject) and we ended up driving over fifty miles more than we needed to and finally ended up nowhere near our original destination. Still, after our "fun" we drove some dirt roads and two tracks, battled half constructed roads and work crews eventually pulling onto a road leading to Franz Jevne State Park. In the end I think this "change of plan" worked out better for us. The park was completely deserted, the sun was out but it was hot and humid and it felt like storms were building but still some hours away. There was a few mosquitoes and the stillness was a little overwhelming so I decided to put the boat in.

Franz Jevne State Park is on the southern bank of the Rainy River, west of International Falls. Rainy River is the border between Minnesota and Canada but isn't wider than about a couple hundred feet. It flows from the massive Rainy Lake to the even more massive Lake of the Woods and is a deceptively lively piece of water. The park itself is on one of only two sets of rapids along its length called the Sault Rapids. It stacks up with walleye in the spring and is a hot fishing destination but mid-summer isn't much good for fishing. We slipped the boat in quietly and headed east, enjoying our dinner (smoked salmon on crackers) as we took in the sounds of the forest. On the Canadian side were some Indian burial mounds but mostly it was just heavily wooded forest. As the sun set a huge hatch of white mayflies began coming off the water. It was incredible! We saw deer drinking at the water's edge but the main excitement came when we saw a black bear. He just sat and looked at us and didn't seem too concerned. Finally we got a little too close and he ran a few feet back into the scrub but we could still see him. In the failing light we let him be and continued on our way. With the boat back on the trailer it wasn't long before all of us were sleeping well in the tent. I must admit though, I was sleeping in the screen porch part and certainly paid attention to all the noises outside a little closer than I normally do. It was great to see all the stars in this faintly lit part of the state.

Tuesday: Zippel Bay, Hayes Lake and Lake Bronson State parks.

Once we got ourselves organized and on the road it didn't take us too long to get to our base camp. We were a full couple of days later than I'd originally planned but we had made it at least. Zippel Bay State park is on Lake of the Woods, which spans 80 miles north to south and 50 miles east to west. That is a big lake! We quickly stamped our stamp (for our state park passport) and headed in to make camp. One small problem, we didn't remember the site I'd reserved and there was nobody at the office. Many times they have names up on the sites but this time they didn't. We knew there would be nobody at the office until 2pm, it was 11am and we had no cell phone coverage. There was nothing to do (except argue and get petty) except head down to the nearest beach and let the kids run wild for a little bit - which they did. Finally though, we couldn't wait and headed back to the office, called the statewide number on the provided payphone, and headed to set up camp. With that set up it felt good and we could relax for a while.

Relaxation with three small kids is a short-lived affair and it wasn't long before we were off exploring another of the parks beaches. The kids loved it and swam and played in the sand. They collected rocks and shells and pointed at birds. Their imaginations were fueled by their excitement and the warm water and air had them and their mother out frolicking in the waves. It was too cold for me, as usual.

As the afternoon wore on the clouds came over and there was rain in the breeze as it picked up. It was too early to head back to the tent so we needed something to do while it rained. We turned to our usual solution of visiting some of the smaller, surrounding state parks to see what they have to offer. Usually there's enough of a break in the rain to allow some exploration of these little gems. Our first destination was Hayes Lake State Park and it was one of those parks built largely for the recreation of locals. It is a damming of a small river to create a lake large enough to support a swimming beach and little else. I'm sure there was some history associated with the site and all that but when we arrived it was pouring with unrelenting rain and the mosquitoes were out of control. We viewed the dam itself, drove around to see what we could see, took a few photos then headed out for Lake Bronson State Park.

By the time we reached this state park the rain was largely passed but the sky was still foreboding and rain was threatening. It was getting late as well so we needed to eat some dinner. This was another park largely built to provide recreation for locals with a nice swimming beach but the lake was somewhat larger than Hayes Lake and provided fishing and other opportunities. There was a big picnic shelter and that was our first attempt at having some dinner. It didn't take long for us to abandon that idea due to swarms of our favorite insect hordes. Luckily for us though, there was an old stone water/fire tower that was open and in a clearing (ie Not so many bugs). The kids excitedly climbed up and ran around and around the viewing platform. The older two kids chased one another, the dog chased them, Lara tried to get involved, I chased them a little and it was a screaming, chaotic, excited adrenaline packed fun-fest. We had our hot dogs for dinner and hit the road. The kids enjoyed it so much they didn't want to leave. Sometimes it's funny how the little, unexpected things provide the most fun.

On the way home, through the thunder storms, we stopped at a dairy queen for ice-cream. We met an old local farmer who knew the family of Jessica's grandfather who grew up in the local district. That was pretty cool I thought. We arrived back at the campsite in the pitch black with pouring rain and three kids that were completely passed out. It was the easiest bedtime ever, even with all the thunder and lightning about.

Wednesday: Our Garden Island

When morning came we were completely dry (well almost completely), well rested and the rain had stopped. It was far from blue skies but it wasn't the dark, heavy clouds of the previous day. The winds were down and it looked like the day was going to clear up. Things looked good. The park has excellent boating access with a good ramp and marina so that was definitely something I wanted to utilize. We went and put the boat in and loaded up. In the middle of the lake, some 19 miles away from us, lies Garden Island State Recreation Area, the most remote of Minnesota's "stamp" destinations. I was unclear if the conditions would allow us to get there so the plan was to poke our nose out into the big lake and head out to see how fast we could go and see the kids tolerance for such an adventure. As it turned out the lake was calm enough, the weather was okay and would probably be fine for the trip but the speed that we could do comfortably was about ten miles an hour. That would make our trip two hours each way. I have no doubt we could have done it, and we did go about five miles towards it, but watching the kids made me wonder if that long in the boat would be worth the reward for them? What was on Garden Island? Sand beaches and swimming? We didn't need to keep the kids locked up in the boat for four hours to achieve this. So finally, reluctantly I gave up the trip and headed back towards the mouth of the Rainy River. What we discovered on our travels was another sandy and pretty island out in the lake. It was "our garden island". In reality it's called Pine and Curry Islands but looked in many ways like a mini garden island.

The southern end of the island formed a sandy peninsula and was home to a bird rookery with pelicans, gulls, cormorants, and others making up the community. The remaining island was long and thin, sparsely vegetated in places with sand dunes and never more than about fifty meters across. There was a thin isthmus between two land masses, presumably separating Pine and Curry islands. The eastern end of the island was much more sheltered from the waves of the main lake and also housed a dock and some picnic tables. In true Minnesotan fashion, brown signs designated a "shorelunch" area away from the scientific and natural preservation area, presumably closed to protect nesting shore birds.

The kids, Jessica and the dog went crazy on these beaches and dock. It was a slowly deepening beach so it was possible to walk out way into the lake and still be only up to your waist and at the end of the dock was in only four feet of water. Running and jumping off the dock was the main attraction but there were plenty of variations on that theme. Little Lara displayed no fear of water and would completely submerse herself and not even cry when you "rescued" her. It's a little worrying actually. We threw for the dog endlessly, made sand and weed castles, jumped, skipped ran and swam until exhausted. Although tempted, the water was still a little cold for me so I travelled along the beach flicking a lure into the depths - all to no avail. This was family summer fun, Minnesota style and there were some really big smiles. As the sun got a bit lower in the sky it became time to go. The kids were just starting to get "edgy" with their fatigue and Lara certainly needed a nap so it was time to leave. That wasn't a decision that was met with enthusiasm from the kids.

On the way back to the ramp both Pierce and Lara passed out into heavy slumber and even Natalya looked like she had heavy eyes. We stayed at the marina a while as first Pierce and then Lara woke from their slumber before having a light lunch of cheese and crackers, yogurt and apples. Then it was back to camp to unload some stuff and headed to yet another beach. It was a nice spot on the border of the park but it seemed to be a popular spot with the locals. We didn't stay too long and as the sun began to drop in the sky everyone looked a little tired so I opted to take everyone to McDonalds in nearby Baudette as a treat. It was, as it always is, a McDonalds experience and the kids were happy to get their toys from the happy meals. On their return it was last light and the kids were exhausted and ready to sleep. I dropped the kids and Jessica off at the campsite and headed back to the marina.

A few stragglers were pulling in but I readied to head back out. In the fading light I slipped through the channel markers and out into the main lake. I headed for a reef in the hopes of connecting with a musky. It was a dark, clear night with millions of mosquitoes but out on the main lake, with a slight breeze, they soon faded away. Above me were more stars than I remember seeing for quite some time and quite a lot of shooting stars. I found out the next day there was a meteor shower happening all week. Way off to the north were faint northern lights dancing away and with the gentle rolling waves, the stars, the light breeze it was a fantastic night. It could only have gotten better if the reel had screamed off and I'd caught the elusive muskellunge. Oh well, it was still pretty close to perfect. I stayed out there until very late as it was so cool with no moon but eventually I knew I had to tackle getting back to the ramp through the weedy bay. There was a couple of adventurous moment as weedbeds surrounded the boat for a while. Still, with the use of the GPS I found my way back. Driving back to the campsite I had two deer and a skunk run out in front of the truck. I'm very thankful I didn't get that skunk too upset though! I lay awake thinking for a few minutes watching the stars but soon fell asleep. It was a good day and was what I was hoping to give the kids for their summer vacation. I felt that I'd accomplished that.

Thursday: Big Bog State Recreation Area

Morning came and the weather was still pretty good and it was time to head to the interestingly named Big Bog State Recreation Area. This is an area of the state that has failed to be tamed and is not conducive to farming, or development of any sort. The recreation area is broken into a northern and southern units with the famed boardwalk on the northern unit. This was our first destination and was, as you might expect of a big bog, chock full of mosquitoes and flies. It was quite scenic and really a desolate part of the state and no houses of any sort. It was truly wild. After a quick lunch of pizza (bought in Baudette) in the cab of the truck, we skipped down to Red Lake and the southern unit. As we put the boat in a helicopter came in and landed. The lake itself was very unimpressive and was just a bowl in the mud. It was less than ten feet in most places and the shoreline was featureless. The water was oil-slick calm and zoomed around the lake doing doughnuts and squishies and other fun moves. When we were done the kids played on playground equipment at the recreation area park. We got our stamp and it was an interesting place to see but I don't think I'll be back there anytime soon. I know Red Lake fishes very well for walleye in the spring, but there's plenty of other lakes that fish well that aren't as visually unimpressive as this one. I've been there, done that.

On the way home we again stopped for ice cream then realized we had a few hours to kill before bed time. We had to pass the resort area by the mouth of the Rainy River to get back to the campsite and that was close to "our" island so I opted to put the boat in and head over for an hour or two. It turns out that was a great choice as the sun beamed through, the winds stayed calm. We could see the storms pushing to the south of us and again, we had the island to ourselves, and the kids could make as much noise as they wanted. It was summer freedom again. I didn't want to stay too long in case the predicted storms did flare up so as the sun lowered in the sky we headed back to the ramp and on to the camp.

We stopped by the park office and got firewood and the staff informed up they were having a meteor watching gathering on the main beach that night. We figured we wouldn't be able to make it because of sleeping kids but the thought was nice. Back at camp we had our campfire and roasted marshmellows and had s'mores before earning a nice early night of bed. As it turned out the clouds rolled in and prevented viewing of the stars which is too bad. I felt lucky that I'd seen a pretty spectacular show the previous evening.

Friday: Old Mill State Park, Argyle, Red River State Recreation Area and Home

I was, as were others in the tent, a little slow to rise in the morning. Again, the sun was out and the kids played up in the boat while Jessica prepared everyone blueberry pancakes for breakfast. It was time to break camp, do the last couple of state parks and head home. We didn't speed along packing up and things were done at a pretty leisurely pace. As a result, as usual, we didn't get the early start hoped for but that was something we were getting used to. It was lunch time as we left Zippel Bay and headed for Roseau for a big lunch at Pizza Ranch. With their bellies full the youngest two zonked out in the back of the truck and even daddy felt a bit sleepy as we journeyed on towards Old Mill State Park in the far north west of the state. I wasn't expecting much of a park but I was surprised. It was peaceful and quiet with the wind rustling through the late summer leaves. Down by the old mill site was the turn of the century stream mill and an old restored cabin. Nothing fancy but well done. The kids ran around and as usual there was nobody else around. Then we headed down to the beach area and swam for a while. There was a few families present and there were some nice Conservation corps stone buildings and extensive lawns and a pretty little stream. It was a nice afternoon and the kids were enjoying themselves, but in the back of my mind I was aware that it was getting late and we had a long road ahead of us.

After some persuasion, the kids were back in the truck and on their way to nearby Argyle to see where their great grandfather had grown up. It's a small town and was a very brief tour. Natalya saw the playground in the school and decided she wanted to live there. Hmmmm, seemed kinda remote in the extensive farms of the region...................not likely any time soon. Still it was good to see it. It's a very long way from central Illinois and I think a much nicer place too.
Then it was off to our final destination and final stamp for the state park passport. Red River of the north is a huge river that forms the border between Minnesota and North Dakota and runs up to Winnipeg and beyond. It always seems to flood in the spring and a State Recreation area was formed when the state government bought flooded homes in 2003 and made a series of RV hookups in downtown East grand Forks. It was quite surreal to have a state park office right next to an applebees and other restaurants. We went in and got our final stamp, final patch and completed our state park travels. Again, not somewhere I'll visit again in most likelihood, but I'm glad we've done it. Nearby there was a nice playground and we stopped briefly to eat a light dinner picnic and give the kids one last break before starting back across the state all the way home. This was a long journey and we got back around 1:30am.

All in all it was a good trip and the weather held out for the most part. I think the kids had a great time and even Mom and dad enjoyed themselves. The dog, Belle, had a fantastic time and was quite subdued by the end of it. She hasn't been so stimulated and exercised in years. And now, we can say we've been all over the state and visited every state park and recreation area in Minnesota. What's next? Who knows and we'll savor this experience for a while before discovering where the winds will blow us next.

Voyageurs National Park

2010-07-14T17:49:00.000-07:00

Saturday 10th July: Schoolcraft and Hill Annex State Parks and Mandi's House
The Drive

Heading North
Good Kids

Quietly Riding in the Back

Schoolcraft State Park

The Rig

Natalya with her little frog

The picnic Area

Hill Annex Mine State Park

Who cares if the Mine isn't open?Clambering About Having a good time Look who's growing up too fast

Mandi's House

Mandi's place at night

Sunday 11th July: Set up Camp on Lake Kabetogama

Getting Ready to head out on the Lake Lu-Lu with Daddy

View from the Campsite Our little beach The tent and fire-pit The screen tent Our little bay Nat and Lara at campfire Little Piercy at the campfire Keeping cold and bugs at bay Natalya out fishing with Daddy as the sun sets

Monday 12th July: Rock Gardens and Redcliff Lodge

Natalya and Pierce put on a show Belle waits as we check out the rock gardens View of Lake Kabetogama Some of the rock gardens tipi at the gardens Zipping down the Lake Canada to the right, America to the left The falls at redcliff Little Pierce wasn't feeling too well As small island close to ours The girls swimming by the beach Heading out on Mandi's canoe Out in the bay Another nice sun set Quietly watching the flames

Tuesday 13th July: Rainy Lake

Rainy Lake Visitor Center Out on Rainy Lake A spot on one the islands A picnic lunch

Breaking camp and Heading Home

A couple of northerns from Rainy Lake

West Central Minnesota State Parks

2010-06-12T19:10:00.000-07:00

Monday and Tuesday 7/8th June: Upper Sioux Agency State Park
Tuesday 8th June: Lac Qui Parle State Park
Tuesday 8th June: Big Stone Lake State Park
Wednesday 9th July: Buffalo River State Park
Wednesday 9th July: Glacial Lake State Park
Wednesday 9th June: Back at Camp (Big Stone Lake)
Thursday 10th June: Sibley State Park
Thursday 10th June: Monson Lake State Park
Friday 11th June: Glendalough State Park
Friday 11th June: Maplewood State Park
Saturday 12th June: Lake Carlos State Park
Saturday 12th June: Pilgrim Point CampgroundSaturday 12th June: McDonalds in Alexandria
Saturday 12th June: Lake Maria State Park