Christmas

We had christmas at our house this year and the kids loved it. There were people and dogs and cats everywhere. As always the food was great and it the kids were the focus. Christmas eve was the gift exchange and Natalya handed out each of the presents from under the tree and then Christmas morning the kids got to open their bonus stuff from santa.

Christmas eve gift exchange

It present time

Family enjoying christmas by the warm fire

Christmas morning Santa giftsTrying to eat breakfast with so many new toys waiting

Natalya's 4th birthday

What a fun time!!! We didn't get to go to the Duluth Water Park this year but Natalya still had a great time with heaps of presents and tinkerbell cupcakes.

Tinkerbelle on the cupcakes

The star of the show

Pierce helping his sister celebrate

Opening presents - the best part

Festival or Trees

The biggest fundraising event for Hiawatha Homes (the care facility where Jessica works) is called Festival of Trees. It's a large event where businesses and groups of people sponsor a tree and decorate it to a theme and then they are auctioned off. Before the auction all of the trees are displayed and there are galas and events and one day is the kids day. We took the kids and met up with some friends (Alan and Sumedha with their girls Sonya and Sasha) to check things out. There were games and activities which both Natalya and Pierce enjoyed, although Pierce really just tried to mimic his big sister. There was face painting and a jumping castle and we all enjoyed actually looking at all the trees. It was almost overwhelming being in a hall with so many christmas trees. After a couple of hours though the kids got tired, not to mention I got a headache from all the people and background noise in the place, and we headed home. All in all I think the kids had a good time but we discovered that Natalya really doesn't like clowns.

Meeting SantaChecking out a christmas treeNatalya posingNatalya getting her face painted

Ye olde fashioned christmas

Lights in the Bluff

After a late day at work we wanted to get the kids out to check out the lights at "light in the bluff" just down the road from us. It was also a good excuse to use the new minivan - and I even got to drive!! The weather was threatening and probably kept a heap of people away but it was still busy. The kids loved the giant lighted diplays, especially the volcano, but the real treat was the lighted maze. Both Natalya and Pierce loved it. There was also lighted mini-golf and a host of other activities but the maze is what the kids loved most. The wagon ride was a bit cold with the wind and mist but still quite fun but our kids had already seen the displays twice from the car. Maybe next time we'll do the wagon tour first.

The kids bundled up on the wagon tour

What fun! The lighted Maze

The giant volcano

A howling wolf

Just an archway to drive under

A wagon

The kids all ready to go in the new minivan

Undignified end of the Jeep

A picture paints a thousand words. This is what happened when I made a mistake and didn't take into account what would happen if someone came through an intersection and T-boned me. My mind just wasn't on the job that day (actually my mind was working very well at all that day).

The last resting place of a faithful workhorse

Soo bubble bursts

After a spring trip that blew away our expectations, and some hype from Johnny, Ted and I traveled to Sault Ste Marie with VERY high hopes of slamming Steel. However, that didn't come to fruition and it's hard to know exactly why. The most likely candidate would be the severe downturn in weather than pushed through (high winds, big temperature drop, snow and rain) but there are a couple of other scenarios. Possibly the fishing isn't quite as good as the hype had us believing, or that it's just not an effective time to target these fish with flyfishing tactics, or a combination of these things (my personal choice). Nevertheless, it was a worthwhile trip with plenty of highlights.

It was a long drive up to the Soo and we got through customs well after nightfall, headed to the "trading post" to get our licences, then crashed in our hotel room. After a good breakfast we met Johnny at the carpark by the canal and headed in to "the rapids". Immediately he had us switch to chuck-n-duck rigs and we waded out to his favorite fall hole. It looked very fishy and we were soon bottom bouncing spawn through the hole. Ted and I have rarely chuck-n-ducked and never fished spawn so it was already a new experience for us.

Ted Rigging up for chuck-n-duck with spawn.......yep, spawn

It had probably been fifteen or twenty minutes until I had my first take. The fish hit as the drift swung, briefly peeled line effortlessly from my reel and then turned, charged towards me and liberated itself. We saw a couple of small atlantic salmon free jumping and my heart was pounding with excitement. A few minutes later and again it was fish on. This time there wasn't much doubting it and a good steelhead was battling hard in the deep, heavy water. The fish had me well into my backing and took at least twenty minutes or more to land. It was a very impressive steelhead going at least eight pounds, and Johnny suggested more, and measuring twenty-nine inches. Things were looking up.

A very nice fall Steelhead

Then you could almost feel a change in the weather. It got colder, the wind began to come up out of the east and it just felt different. We'd only been fishing an hour or so and that turned out to be the best fishing of the trip. The drizzle got a little stronger and my fingers went a little more numb but it was still bareable. We continued drifting for at least an hour without any success so Johnny moved us to fishing in behind the countless king salmon spawning out from the berm wall. Again, no success. We went and tried some great holding water - no success. Finally, Johnny took us back to show us his coho spot and that again required chuck-n-duck and spawn, we fished it briefly and then headed back out to the first hole as Johnny headed back to his truck with the advise to just be persistent and eventually the fish would turn on.

Plenty of kings on beds but getting them to take a fly was almost impossible

We fished hard all day, mainly indicator fishing behind the salmon and out in the holding water. All day we fished and the rain got harder, the wind blew worse and the temperature got colder. We figured surely the fish would turn on at some point. We'd been the first out on the water in the morning and were the last to leave that evening and neither of us had hooked a steelhead in since the early morning fish. I had spent a big part of the afternoon trying to convince some kings to eat a fly (as I was assured St Mary's kings take flies better than any other river king) with very limited success. In fact, I only landed one fish fair and lost one I suspect was fair. All in all it was a tough day. We headed off for a chinese buffet, (which wasn't that good) and headed back to the hotel to rest our weary bones and let our fingers warm up.

Back to the hotel room to warm up

The only way we could touch steel this day

We didn't spring out of bed in the morning but we were on the water pretty early. There were already guys out and Johnny had some clients out fishing spawn along the berm wall. They were getting a few cohos and playing around with the kings. Ted headed out to his spring hole and after fishing behind the kings for a bit I headed out to the deeper holding water. I watched as a pod of steelhead moved in close to my spot before dissappearing. I had one move towards a woolly bugger I stripped in front of his face but it was non-commital and it never looked as though he would take it. I drifted and swung for ages and finally I got the jolting smash I was looking for. In about three seconds I was through my flyline and the knot between my flyline and backing caught for a second or two at the top guide of the rod. After a tense moment I felt it give and saw a dark shaddow zip down through the current and I felt relief. That moment changed when I looked up a realized that shadow had been the tip section of the rod - a rod I had borrowed from my buddy Bryan!

Despite hundred of kings still swimming it was clear most of the run was done....and feeling like I did after loosing a rodtip, line and stocked flybox

By this point the fish was screaming through my backing and well on it's way back to Lake Huron, across the huge pool I was fishing and into some very heavy water with huge boulders. I was in trouble. In a desperate attempt I scrambled back along some shallower water to make some line up and stop the fish from taking all the line from my reel. I was just starting to make good line back and feel the fish tire when I felt that sinking feeling that the line was wrapped on a rock. There was absolutely no way I could get anywhere near that rock and hoping the fish would swim back through that insane current was crazy. I just tried to keep pressure and work that fish. After several minutes the fish did swim back up and through, only to wrap on another huge rock. I put the wood to it, and it turned and hightailed it back down through the heavy rocks and again I was wrapped. After a long, futile wait I tried to hand over hand the fish out and felt the snap as the knot between the backing and the flyline snapped. I lost the fish, the rod tip and my flyline. Oh, while all this was going on a large flybox full of woolly buggers and egg-sucking leeches fell from my pocket and was washed into the heavy current. It was a soul emptying experience and I quickly turned and stormed across the rapids, through the bush track back to the car, called Bryan to let him know I lost his rod tip, called my wife to vent some frustration, before grabbing a spare outfit and heading back out to try and do it all over again. As I walked down the track I ran into Johnny and we laughed that this is the kind of "fun" that fuels our obsession with steelheading. Any fish that can serve that kind of punishment to a top of the line 8 weight flyrod with a very expensive reel (and I don't think the fish was that big!) is the kind of fish I'm happy to get pationate about!

When I got back out to the hole Ted was getting into a half dozen or so very fresh pink salmon, that had probably just come up from the big lake. They were biting for about a half hour or so and then just stopped. We fished another hour or so before heading off to grab some lunch and re-group.

When we got back to the river Johnny and his clients were carrying out a good number of cohos and said they'd hooked into a large steelhead. we fished behind the salmon for a half hour or so, then broke down and went out to the first spot we'd fished and rigged up to bottom-bounce spawn. Drift after drift after fruitless drift went by. The air temperature was dropping and my nose was dripping like a broken tap, my fingers were numb, and tying knots was a painfully slow process. Finally though, something happened. I felt my bait stop and I raised my rod to feel a weight. Instantly the weight took off upstream and it was on. This was a blistering run and I felt lots of big headshakes. The fish would run towards me and then shoot off in the opposite direction. It was a fight like no other steelhead I've ever caught. This fish was blisteringly strong and effortlessly peeled line off my heavy drag. I knew I didn't want it back in the shallow, broken water but I just couldn't stop it.

When it finally rolled it was a very big fish and Ted got a better look than me. It was very silver and he felt sure it was a huge steelhead. I saw a tail that just looked different than a steelhead and I knew the fight was very different. As I worked the fish into the shallows it flailed away on the surface a fair bit and I got a decent look at it and the tail and dorsal fin positions looked different to a steelhead and the spots seemed bigger but I just couldn't tell from the views I was getting. I had the fish all but beaten and as I went to make the final pull to bring it to hand the knot attaching the hook pulled and I was left beaten. Almost without doubt it was a steelhead. It was too bright and too big to have been an atlantic salmon. Besides the atlantics were spawning and not eating and their colouration had lost the silver hues and now resembled a bland brown trout. It had to have been a steelhead right? What would be the chances of a huge, mint fresh atlantic eating some spawn in mid November? It must have been a steelhead and a very good one at that, but I just can't help wondering.

For whatever reason I feel that catching an Atlantic salmon is the everest of flyfishing and is something I really want to do. Perhaps that is the reason I "saw" things that make me wonder if I wasn't fighting an atlantic but would I really want to catch my first atlantic bottom-bouncing spawn? Wouldn't that somehow cheapen the whole experience? Thinking back now I would say yes, but I can assure you that when I had that thing on the line, shaking it's head and rushing about, and when I caught those few glimpses that had me thinking about the possibility of actually catching an atlantic I whole-heartedly wanted that fish.

When it broke off I was shaking like I haven't done after loosing a fish for a very long time, in fact as long as I can remember. Part of it may have been the cold but I was shaking like a leaf, my heart was pounding in my chest so hard it was hurting and my distain for the knot-holding power of flourocarbon line was overpowering. My bubble was burst and the wind left my sails. We fished for another hour or so and it was getting dark and very cold. Finally we gave up and headed back to the car. For Ted it had been a long couple of days, and I only managed one steelhead, but the two fish I lost on that Saturday were truly HOT! The fall steelhead I've caught in the Brule River are special and fight fantastically, but relatively they are small and the water isn't as deep, big and heavy to showcase their strength, speed and power. I will definately say fall Steelhead deserve every bit of hype they recieve.

And as for Atlantic Salmon, let's just say I've already made plans to be back up in Sault Ste Marie in prime time next year, with Johnny at my side. Hopefully 2009 will be the year I summit my everest but for the upcoming winter I'm going to need to save my money to replace the equipment floating down the St Mary's rapids, into Lake Huron and possibly slipping over Niagra falls as you read this.

Snow outside our hotel window Sunday morning

Ted and I drove about five hours into the night with the temperature dropping well below freezing and rain turning to snow before stopping somewhere in Wisconsin for the night. The hotel was nice (a little expensive) but seeing as we hadn't seen an open motel for probably thirty miles we took it. The shower I took was fantastic and I slept like the dead that night. We slept in a little and woke to an inch or so of snow on the ground. After a hearty breakfast we polished off the last five or six hours home. Fishwise it was a tough trip but we learned alot and what we learned will definately help us in our decision making regarding steelheading in the future.

Halloween

Natalya and Pierce with their Candy

It was a kinda strange halloween this year. The change in daylight savings observance had the sunset an hour later than previous years and that seemed to put the timing off. Also, the local high-school football team had a huge game to decide if they went to the state final, so many people in the area decided to move the candy-grab to the Saturday evening instead. In the end the whole event was pushed into a window of about an hour and a half.

My kids were very excited this year and it was Natalya leading the charge. Pierce sure didn't know what all the fuss was about but if Natalya was excited he knew it was something he NEEDED to pay attention to. The week before the kids got to wear their costumes to the school halloween party so Pierce was extra certain that dressing up in his costume meant good things were about to happen.

The little devil himself

As always happens, I (being the anti-social member of the family) stayed home to hand out candy to the kids while Jessica took Natalya and Pierce out to score their booty. They left all excited and it was great to watch them head off. Apparently Natalya knew exactly what to do and was very polite. Pierce also quickly worked it out and was eagerly knocking on doors, smiling and reaching into the candy bowls to grab himself some goodies. He'd give a big grin but was very business like in the knocking and procurement of the goods. Between the two of them, Natalya and Pierce made a great team and came back home with a huge amount of candy.

The fairy Princess

Natalya also enjoyed handing out candy to the kids that came to the door but made sure each kid gave the appropriate "trick or treat" before allowing the bowl close enough to their outstretched hands. She had a fantastic time this year.

Afterwards there was quite a bit of sugar to wear off but both kids were plenty eager to run around the house to burn it off. Luckily for us they both went to bed early and slept well. It was a good time for all of us.

Brule: Nothing...nothing....nothing...All hell breaks out .

The Bois Brule River in northern Wisconsin is an enchanting river. Why, I can't quite tell you but it keeps luring me back. Sure, it has fall steelhead in it, but not that many. Sure it's scenic, but not that scenic. Sure it's not as far to go as Michigan or Sault Ste Marie, but it's not that close. People catch fall steelhead here but each fish is hard earned. Hard earned in time, hard earned in the number of flies and lead you go through, hard earned in the cool to cold weather you go through and hard earned in the number of lessons and water you need to learn in order to score the mystical fall Brule River steelhead. Not that I'm saying the aura that surrounds Brule fall steelhead isn't well deserved because the hot ones I've encountered are absolutely amazing. The best of them are truly uncatchable. What I think really separates the Brule fish from all others is the overall fishing experience. You go all day and you might catch one, you go to bed and you get up the next day knowing you might catch one. Hour after hour you go through the motions, casting, mending, stripping and, with regularity pulling your rig from a snag. Almost every time the snag stays put, most times the fly pops off but you also spend plenty of time retying. From time to time a small trout or smolt is at the end of the line, or even a skip jack. However, every once in a blue moon, when you're least expecting it, as you go to pull your fly free there's a head shake and then......................ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE.

From my experience most times that caos is uncontrollable and there's a jump (or was that two or three or none, who can really tell as your mind is in complete shock), a blistering zig and zig and another zig and then you're left with a limp line and your indicator sliding down to the bottom of your drift in a melancholy sort of way as your heart empties, your throat dries, your quivering hands fumble at your reel and your mind attempts to process what the hell it has just witnessed. It's not your minds fault as you have just spend hours/days lulling it into a zen-like passive state where everything moves in a relaxed and tranquil way and then shattered it like a broken mirror. As things start to come into focus the quiver in your hands becomes a tremble in your knees and you start to curse yourself for "blowing" the fish but as you try to work out what you did wrong you realize - that fish was just too damn hot! That's probably the best part of fall steelheading in the Brule, those fish that are too hot to handle are out there.

Having gone through the mystical properties of the river and the fish I should probably bring you back to earth with the reality of a couple of "on the ground" fishing trips to the Brule. The first trip was a late night excursion where I left just after midnight on a Thursday morning, fished the river hard all day, and then drove back that night (five hours each way). Needless to say I stopped a few times on the way for short sleeps and then put a few more miles under my belt. I was there for first legal light and was on the water as soon as I could see.

The water was low and the day started off badly. I had just gotten a brand new Lamson Litespeed reel to go with my 6 weight Sage SLT and I figured it was perfect for the Brule. I charged off into the first good hole and as I stripped out line for my first cast the spool dropped off. I couldn't believe it! When I'd changed over the reel from right to left-hand retrieve I hadn't tightened the screw tight enough and it was now jammed in the spool. I had to head back to the car and grab my 7 weight rig.

The weapons for the day

Within a half hour my indicator slipped ouwards in a funny direction and when I set a silvery flash rolled at the waters surface and zipped away. At first I thought it was the real thing but it didn't take long to realize it was just a jack of about seventeen or eighteen inches. That might not sound like that much less than a 22-23 incher (adult steelhead) but it's a totally different creature in terms of girth and weight and general appearance. Fifteen to twenty minutes later and the same thing but this time the fish must have been laying up under a submerged log. I was thinking it was just a matter of time but then the sun came up above the treeline, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was hot.

A couple of shots of the river from where I parked the car

I fished hard, up and down the river. Every now and then I'd get a smolt or small rainbow trout but nothing better than eight inches. I didn't stop for lunch, I didn't stop to drink, I just fished and it was great. Come evening I wandered down to my favorite hole. I plumbed it and plumbed it and got another small (15-16") jack that really didn't do much. I headed back to the car, talked for a couple of hours with some other fishermen then began the drive home.

The mode of transportation on the first trip

Although I had to be back home on Friday I had another chance to head up Monday morning and I jumped at it and with gas prices a little lower I took the steelhead mobile. There had been reain and snow over the weekend and the skies were grey when I got there. The water was up but not muddy and things looked great. I was sure I was going to get into fish. I was on the water around 4pm and with the dark clouds that didn't give me much time. I fished the holes down to "the ledges" hard throwing every combination of flies I could think of. There was nobody about, it was cold and the odd snow flurry went through. One thing that was noticeable was the number of smolt I was catching. In the short time I landed probably a half dozen or so. Finally, as light began to fade I reached the bottom pool and on my first drift through the broken water at the head of the pool my line stopped. I pulled up only to discover the familiar resistance of the bottom. I yanked hard and popped both flies. It was dark, I was getting cold and only had time (and enough feeling in my fingers) to tie on one fly - you don't think I'm going to tell you do you what it was do you???.

I roll cast it out again and it landed in the same spot as before. I let it drift and again it hung up in the same spot. I cursed, yanked with more might than I should have and this time there was a violent headshake and line streamed out of my reel. The sound of the reel is about all I remember in the haze but I did see the jet-black shape of a decent steelhead come well clear of the water a couple of times in the space of a second or two, then........................I hate that feeling and no matter how many times it happens I can't get used to it. I stayed until I could barely see the end of my nose and my frozen fingers felt like slabs of steak. I knew I'd missed my chance but I just couldn't leave.

I headed back to Brule to buy something to drink then found a nice place to park the jeep and went to sleep. It was only 7:30pm but I went to sleep no problem. Despite being so cold outside I was cozy in the jeep. I did head back down to the river in the middle of the night. This was planned as I figured warming the jeep up in the middle of the night might help stave off the cold a bit. I don't know if it worked or not but I wasn't cold at all.

Catching a few winks in the Jeep

Come first light there was a few cars about but they didn't last more than a half hour in the freezing conditions and frozen guides. I headed downstream and at the head of my second hole I strolled into the water to about knee depth (it felt good because I'd fallen on my knee the evening before and it was hurting a bit), busted off the ice from my guides and stripped out some line. I still had some cobwebs in the eyes and brain and couldn't focus clearly in the low light. I wasn't too commital in my casting and was happy to just get the fly out there. On about the fifth drift the fly stopped and I slowly took up the slack in the hopes that I could dislodge the flies without busting them off (my fingers were too cold to tie on another fly) and the snag came up a little. I set a little harder and then the head shook and it was on. A sharp zip, an airborne jump and then a hard run down to the bottom of the pool. With the line easily on the spool and the first few crazy seconds of the fight out of the way I began to settle down. The fish boiled towards the tailout and then took off downstream I chased and fell repeatedly on my sore knee, on the other knee (which incidentally is sore now as well) and slipped into the water at least once. Below that first set of rapids was a long, slow pool but it was fairly shallow with a number of trees and snags. I was nervous the whole time and with each blistering run my heart was in my mouth as I feared this was the run that would result in steelhead liberation.

A Brule River Chromer

Fortunately I held it together just enough to bring the fish to hand. I was shaking like a crazy man and I fumbled around in my jackey pockets desterately trying to find the camera. It took waht felt like an eternity so I snapped a shot of my silver prize and went to work reviving it, which didn't take too long. I didn't bother too much with pictures because I figured I was going to have a stellar day with plenty more fish. As it turned out that wasn't the case. About an hour and a half or so later I again hooked up, this time with a more colored up fish. This take was more subtle and the fight more subdued, still a good fight but not the maniacal insanity of the hot, silver bullets. Having said that, I didn't get the fish to hand because when I had the leader to the end of the rod I thought the fish was done and instead of taking it into the quiet water to land it, I decided to grab it at the tailout. When I went to tail it, the fish spooked and ran downstream. As it did that the knot between the line and leader caught in the top guide, the rod doubled over and my fly dislodged. No fish. It was probably low twenties but had the nice pink hues of a fish that had been in the river a while.

The Steelie Jeep

I fished an hour or so longer before the lace on one of my boots blew out in the sticky mud along the trail.......and that was it. No more fish, no more fishing and it was back to the jeep for the drive home. On the way home I stopped at Wild River State park to check it out. It looks like a great place to take the family next summer and it looks like it also has some good cross-country ski trails as well. Oh well, back to work tomorrow for as long as that's going to last.

A few shots of Wild River State Park