Well after a couple of good days with the spinners it was time to go back to the flyrod and one of my favorite streams is Cold Spring Brook. As well as the water being crystal clear and cold, there is a decent population of brook trout to brighten up the day. With the season opening having just rolled by I was prepared for an angler or tow but there was at least three cars pulled up along the short stretch of stream. I had to resort to plan B which was to head to the stream mouth and try for some red-horse that should be about ready to spawn. Last year I'd stumbled on this event and although they aren't good to look at the fight pretty well. Last year there was a pair of eagle chicks in a nest close by and I threw one of my red-horse up on the bank and watched as one of the parent eagles flew down and took it up to the chicks for food.
As I made my way downstream I noticed the eagles nest was still there and both parents were close by but I could only see one chick. That was the highlight of the trip because the Zumbro River (Cold spring is a tributary of this warm river) was very high and dirty so there was no chance of successful fishing. After fishing for only ten minutes or so I headed home. Oh well, there's always next time.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
New water on Whitewater
I'd have to say I've fished most of the Whitewater valley. In fact, there's not too much water I've not probed pretty thoroughly. Anyway, after a nice afternoon the day before I wanted to catch my first rainbow trout of the year. The spot I chose was the middle branch of the Whitewater River above the State Park campground. When I arrived there was a couple of guys already working the stretch I wanted to fish so I walked downstream under the bridge. Almost immediately my spinner (yes, again I just wanted to catch some fish) was smashed by a little brownie.
The day was cloudy and cold and the other two guys walked with the slumped shoulders of unsuccessful anglers. I spoke with them briefly and mentioned I'd seen a few, small black caddis coming off at West Indian Creek the day before but nothing impressive. There was swarms of gnats coming off the still water and birds were slamming them but I saw no sign of any fish feeding. I quickly fished through the water the other guys had covered up to the next bridge where I usually stop. Immediately upstream is some slack water and shallow riffles and isn't very inviting but because I had not been out close to long enough to call it a day I decided to head upstream. I'm very glad I did.
Around the corner from the crappy water there is a nice pool and I hooked my second fish and as I went upstream I had a regular diet of follows and hookups. The fish weren't quite on and they weren't as aggressive as I'd have liked but I still managed seven brownies. My quest for rainbows wasn't realized but I did briefly hook at least three and one good one was on for several seconds before snagging me on an overhanging tree branch. Oh well. Before I was ready to quite I had to make my way back to the car as I needed to get home for Jessica to go to work. I was a little disappointed to have not fished this water before but I'm sure I'll be fishing it again soon.
The day was cloudy and cold and the other two guys walked with the slumped shoulders of unsuccessful anglers. I spoke with them briefly and mentioned I'd seen a few, small black caddis coming off at West Indian Creek the day before but nothing impressive. There was swarms of gnats coming off the still water and birds were slamming them but I saw no sign of any fish feeding. I quickly fished through the water the other guys had covered up to the next bridge where I usually stop. Immediately upstream is some slack water and shallow riffles and isn't very inviting but because I had not been out close to long enough to call it a day I decided to head upstream. I'm very glad I did.
Around the corner from the crappy water there is a nice pool and I hooked my second fish and as I went upstream I had a regular diet of follows and hookups. The fish weren't quite on and they weren't as aggressive as I'd have liked but I still managed seven brownies. My quest for rainbows wasn't realized but I did briefly hook at least three and one good one was on for several seconds before snagging me on an overhanging tree branch. Oh well. Before I was ready to quite I had to make my way back to the car as I needed to get home for Jessica to go to work. I was a little disappointed to have not fished this water before but I'm sure I'll be fishing it again soon.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Sink to spin
With my health concerns I just needed to get out and catch a few trout and didn't need the extra hassles of trying to negotiate the brush of West Indian Creek with a flyrod. Don't get me wrong, this is one of my favorite streams to flyfish but it is definitely a technical little stream and the vegetation eats flies if you don't pay strict attention to your backcast. Anyway, with only an hour or so to play with, and thunder and lightening rolling in I zipped out to my stream armed with my spinning rod and celta spinners from home. There was a vehicle already at my favorite spot so I had to head downstream a little way (I was hoping it was just a turkey hunter and my stream had been left unmolestered).
Anyway, not much to tell except the fish were quite aggressive with lowering barometer and drizzly, dark skies. There wasn't any large fish but one would have touched fourteen inches. It didn't take long to realize someone had fished the stretch earlier that day, from the footprints and the way and places I had fish take. You certainly only got one chance in each hole and the best holes were completely dead. My short session was cut short when some thunder rumbled right on top of me, so it was back to the jeep and home. In the short hour and a half I ended up with seven brown trout which was quite fun. I've been on a bit of a quest to get away from the standard "pose with fish &/or rod&reel" pics so forgive some of the weird angles.
Anyway, not much to tell except the fish were quite aggressive with lowering barometer and drizzly, dark skies. There wasn't any large fish but one would have touched fourteen inches. It didn't take long to realize someone had fished the stretch earlier that day, from the footprints and the way and places I had fish take. You certainly only got one chance in each hole and the best holes were completely dead. My short session was cut short when some thunder rumbled right on top of me, so it was back to the jeep and home. In the short hour and a half I ended up with seven brown trout which was quite fun. I've been on a bit of a quest to get away from the standard "pose with fish &/or rod&reel" pics so forgive some of the weird angles.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
First Float
Despite feeling terrible I attempted a day at work. Unfortunately that didn't work out so well so on the way home I stopped off at Foster Arend Pond to try my luck at some stocked rainbows. After inflating my float tube I drifted out into the main lake. Almost instantly I was hooked into a nice, little rainbow. It looked like I'd be into some good fishing. Things then slowed down as the wind picked up and I managed only one more rainbow. Both fish were small and had entered the lake with the last stocking. I did manage ten or so sunnies but one can only waste so much time chasing them. Considering how I felt I figured a couple of hours of pointless drifting was enough and I headed home to feel sorry for myself.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Ted breaks out Secret Fly
With our Michigan trip behind us and spring just beginning in South East Minnesota Ted and I decided to leave early from work and head down to the gem that is Trout Run. It was windy and there was high cloud cover but the water had cleared quite a it from the runoff and rain of recent days. It was a bit early for caddis and I'd come across sporadic BWOs on the whitewater system a few days before.
With anglers downstream of the "Round Barn" we worked downstream. On only a few minutes I was onto a nice little brownie on a copper john. There was no activity so both of us were nymphing. My energy was very low and I took the chance to retie and change flies regularly, not to mention the chance to take in the sounds of water trickling along a beautiful stream and the return of the birds with the onset of spring. If I'd found new strength for the Michigan trip, I was somewhat struggling with my health on this one, and it was only early in the morning.
Ted was very gracious in giving me the choicest holes but with me taking my time he got to probe plenty of nice water and it wasn't long until he started touching fish. Within an hour there were BWOs coming off and Ted found himself onto some hot action and the head of a nice looking pool. After three or four fish in as many minutes he called me up to have a few drifts. First drift through with my parachute BWO and an eager brownie came up and slammed it but I was too slow on setting the hook. A few drifts later and I was away. I don't think either of us had quite the right size or pattern but it was good enough for some good action. Strangely enough the hatch just ended as quickly as it begun in about twenty to thirty minutes. It was the shortest hatch I've fished, but was nice to encounter in the middle of a clear, sunny day.
In the next hole Ted struck the mother-lode. He switched to a fly I've never seen (and one I'd never have bought or tied on) and immediately began slamming fish. It was a deep lie along a submerged log just below some significant riffles. I don't remember the exact number but somewhere around fourteen fish came to hand and he was kept busy with almost constant brief hookups. He kept mining that sweet spot for a while as I moved upstream. I found a nice, sunny spot and, after probing it briefly with a couple of flies I sat down and rested my eyes as I took in the warmth of the spring sun and the sound of the wind rustling the trees. The smells and sounds reminded me that the constant feeling of cold was over and soon it would be T-shirt weather. It was a great break from dealing with the ordeals of what was going on in my "other" life.
Once Ted exhausted his hole we headed to check out his "dry spot". There had been some changes made by Trout Unlimited that we think destroyed the uniqueness of the spot but there were still some fish there. We both landed fish but they weren't especially memorable. We also checked some other holes but with the wind picking up the fishing was tough. The sun and wind took it's toll on me and was tired that evening but it had been well worth it. The next day my real medical challenges began but that was a great day to get me ready.
With anglers downstream of the "Round Barn" we worked downstream. On only a few minutes I was onto a nice little brownie on a copper john. There was no activity so both of us were nymphing. My energy was very low and I took the chance to retie and change flies regularly, not to mention the chance to take in the sounds of water trickling along a beautiful stream and the return of the birds with the onset of spring. If I'd found new strength for the Michigan trip, I was somewhat struggling with my health on this one, and it was only early in the morning.
Ted was very gracious in giving me the choicest holes but with me taking my time he got to probe plenty of nice water and it wasn't long until he started touching fish. Within an hour there were BWOs coming off and Ted found himself onto some hot action and the head of a nice looking pool. After three or four fish in as many minutes he called me up to have a few drifts. First drift through with my parachute BWO and an eager brownie came up and slammed it but I was too slow on setting the hook. A few drifts later and I was away. I don't think either of us had quite the right size or pattern but it was good enough for some good action. Strangely enough the hatch just ended as quickly as it begun in about twenty to thirty minutes. It was the shortest hatch I've fished, but was nice to encounter in the middle of a clear, sunny day.
In the next hole Ted struck the mother-lode. He switched to a fly I've never seen (and one I'd never have bought or tied on) and immediately began slamming fish. It was a deep lie along a submerged log just below some significant riffles. I don't remember the exact number but somewhere around fourteen fish came to hand and he was kept busy with almost constant brief hookups. He kept mining that sweet spot for a while as I moved upstream. I found a nice, sunny spot and, after probing it briefly with a couple of flies I sat down and rested my eyes as I took in the warmth of the spring sun and the sound of the wind rustling the trees. The smells and sounds reminded me that the constant feeling of cold was over and soon it would be T-shirt weather. It was a great break from dealing with the ordeals of what was going on in my "other" life.
Once Ted exhausted his hole we headed to check out his "dry spot". There had been some changes made by Trout Unlimited that we think destroyed the uniqueness of the spot but there were still some fish there. We both landed fish but they weren't especially memorable. We also checked some other holes but with the wind picking up the fishing was tough. The sun and wind took it's toll on me and was tired that evening but it had been well worth it. The next day my real medical challenges began but that was a great day to get me ready.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Great Michigan ???
All winter Ted and I had been building in excitement about our trip to the steelheading mecca of Michigan, particularly the famed Muskegon and Pere Marquette Rivers. After a long winter of anticipation the actual date of the trip snuck up on us and it was almost bizarre to be driving through Chicago and along the tollway towards Michigan. Our hopes were high as Michigan had just gotten a heap of rain which we hoped would push in a swag of fresh fish, but deep down we had fears that it was too much rain and things would be blown out.
Our first look at steelhead water was the huge Grand River and it wasn't pleasing to see a dirt brown torrent gushing through Grand Rapids. We drove on to a spot one of Ted's contacts had given him near the confluence of the Rogue River with the Grand. When we got there our excitement dropped even further when the river was running it's banks and flooding back into the timber. After a brief look we decided to scope the Rogue out a little further upstream closer to the dam in Rockford. The two of us worked streamers downstream of the dam and noted that this river is a fantastic looking stream, almost tailor made for flyfishing, if it wasn't chocolate brown with floodwater.
After a while with no sign of success Ted and I lost sight of one another. I headed back to the dam to wait for him. I wandered around throwing the odd cast out into the churned up water beneath the dam, wondering what I'd d it I actually hooked a fish. In fact, as my eyes passed along the steepsided concrete wall and fence that stood just high enough to make stepping over it very hard, I noticed I might be better off scaling the fence and heading along some rocks down to water level. As I contemplated this my limp line became taunt and as I took up the strain the line zipped upstream, slow at first and then with conviction. Convinced I was hooked up I lifted the rod and set the hooks and at that first strong resistance the fish rolled and I saw I was onto a solid fish.
Having lost any hope of catching fish in the mud I'd lazily tied on my big, gaudy clouser and now I was very worried the knot would pull. Being up by the dam I quickly had an audience and luckily one guy held my rod as I uncomfortably scaled the fence and then made my way down the rocks to where I had a chance of landing the fish. The audience grew and grew until a dozen or so angler and passers-by were watching the show. I played that fish so gingerly, almost sure it was only a matter of time until the hook pulled. Finally the colored up 27 inch buck came to hand and I had my first Michigan steelhead and just before I landed it Ted had noticed the commotion and witness the end stages of the fight. I figured if I could catch them in the muddy conditions we were going to catch them by the handful in the coming days as the water cleared.
We fished long and hard to visible fish most of the day. We fished broken water and deeper pools but again came up short. The fish were there but just not ready to feed. Our timing was probably only a few days off but I guess that's how it goes. That stream in particular is fantastic and we both agreed we'd love to fish it again and again. Even without catching fish it was a pleasure to be on that stream. We met a guy from Michigan that ties us flies and we had a good evening talking to him about flies and fishing and it would be nice to take him up on his offers to show us more of the river.
As we drove through Chicago on our way home we were a little disappointed with the number of fish but the scenery and streams are fantastic and if there is a place to get skunked, northern Michigan would be it.
Our first look at steelhead water was the huge Grand River and it wasn't pleasing to see a dirt brown torrent gushing through Grand Rapids. We drove on to a spot one of Ted's contacts had given him near the confluence of the Rogue River with the Grand. When we got there our excitement dropped even further when the river was running it's banks and flooding back into the timber. After a brief look we decided to scope the Rogue out a little further upstream closer to the dam in Rockford. The two of us worked streamers downstream of the dam and noted that this river is a fantastic looking stream, almost tailor made for flyfishing, if it wasn't chocolate brown with floodwater.
After a while with no sign of success Ted and I lost sight of one another. I headed back to the dam to wait for him. I wandered around throwing the odd cast out into the churned up water beneath the dam, wondering what I'd d it I actually hooked a fish. In fact, as my eyes passed along the steepsided concrete wall and fence that stood just high enough to make stepping over it very hard, I noticed I might be better off scaling the fence and heading along some rocks down to water level. As I contemplated this my limp line became taunt and as I took up the strain the line zipped upstream, slow at first and then with conviction. Convinced I was hooked up I lifted the rod and set the hooks and at that first strong resistance the fish rolled and I saw I was onto a solid fish.
Having lost any hope of catching fish in the mud I'd lazily tied on my big, gaudy clouser and now I was very worried the knot would pull. Being up by the dam I quickly had an audience and luckily one guy held my rod as I uncomfortably scaled the fence and then made my way down the rocks to where I had a chance of landing the fish. The audience grew and grew until a dozen or so angler and passers-by were watching the show. I played that fish so gingerly, almost sure it was only a matter of time until the hook pulled. Finally the colored up 27 inch buck came to hand and I had my first Michigan steelhead and just before I landed it Ted had noticed the commotion and witness the end stages of the fight. I figured if I could catch them in the muddy conditions we were going to catch them by the handful in the coming days as the water cleared.
My first Michigan Steelhead
We stayed throwing streamers and in a half hour or so Ted hooked up to a nice fish up closer to the dam itself. There were fish in there and it was funny that the fly guys were catching fish while the spawn and hardware guys weren't. We stayed as long as we thought we could and still have time to get to our motel near the mighty Muskegon River but didn't see another fish.
We stayed throwing streamers and in a half hour or so Ted hooked up to a nice fish up closer to the dam itself. There were fish in there and it was funny that the fly guys were catching fish while the spawn and hardware guys weren't. We stayed as long as we thought we could and still have time to get to our motel near the mighty Muskegon River but didn't see another fish.Ted's Rogue River Steel
The next morning we met our guide Tim early and were soon at the landing with his drift boat. The river is large, very large and certainly with the amount of water we were seeing it wasn't really a feasible river to wade. We were glad to have a guide and drift-boat. The river had its share of jetsleds but not much traffic. The water was off color but not too bad. Tim rigged us up with chuck-&-duck rigs and small stone and egg patterns. We plied some likely holes that have held fish for him before but all to no avail. Finally I hooked up on something that had some size, but the fight wasn't great. Our guide was quick to call steel and because I that I had some hope. The fight just wasn't there despite the size and when it became clear it was a large sucker I just busted it off. By mid morning the water muddied up considerably as they let one of the overflows of the dam go. Throughout the day they ended up letting three go and each time the water got dirtier. By the end of the day it was chocolate milk. Ted and I got a couple of suckers but our first day on the Muskegon was pretty disappointing. We finished our drift late afternoon and headed off to try our luck on the Rogue a little more but this time we were unsuccessful.
The next morning we met our guide Tim early and were soon at the landing with his drift boat. The river is large, very large and certainly with the amount of water we were seeing it wasn't really a feasible river to wade. We were glad to have a guide and drift-boat. The river had its share of jetsleds but not much traffic. The water was off color but not too bad. Tim rigged us up with chuck-&-duck rigs and small stone and egg patterns. We plied some likely holes that have held fish for him before but all to no avail. Finally I hooked up on something that had some size, but the fight wasn't great. Our guide was quick to call steel and because I that I had some hope. The fight just wasn't there despite the size and when it became clear it was a large sucker I just busted it off. By mid morning the water muddied up considerably as they let one of the overflows of the dam go. Throughout the day they ended up letting three go and each time the water got dirtier. By the end of the day it was chocolate milk. Ted and I got a couple of suckers but our first day on the Muskegon was pretty disappointing. We finished our drift late afternoon and headed off to try our luck on the Rogue a little more but this time we were unsuccessful.The excitement of a hook-up
The excitement goes sour
Ted Getting into the sucker action as well
The excitement goes sour
Ted Getting into the sucker action as well
With such bad conditions we knew our chances of success were low the following day but we wanted to be on the water. As it turns out our guide is more of a plug fisherman than fly fisherman so we opted to go with his best skills for our final day on big Mo'. We floated the same stretch of river with the same result and as it became clear the fish just weren't going to respond we opted to call it quits early. We can't blame the guide as the fishing was slow for everyone on the river. It was cool to actually see some of the famous guides you read about such as Matt Supinski and Chad Betts but our timing was terrible. It turns out that huge flush of water drew in a huge number of fish from Lake Michigan and the rest of the spring after a week or so was dynamite fishing. Oh well, you can't will all the time. Still, you could easily see how it is a beautiful river and a great place to spend time chasing steel.
It's not hard to see that this can be a beautiful river
After a brief stop to fish the White River, which was also blown out and dangerous to wade we headed up to our main destination, the Pere Marquette River. We got to our motel in Baldwin and immediately headed down to check the river. It was high and cloudy but definitely fishable. We were very excited and with a couple of hours or so this evening and two full days we were bound to get into some good fishing. Although not chocolate the water was high and strong and wading was dangerous to impossible in many places and we began to notice a familiar tell-tale of this river - the no trespassing signs. Some places actually employ guards to keep people from walking their banks. Trust me, these people are serious and it's a serious risk to wander over people's property. We didn't see much water but what we saw looked fantastic with plenty of gravel, deep shoots and pocket water and if the water would come down it would be amazing water to flyfish.
The next morning the water had dropped considerably but wading was still tough. We covered more water and even saw a few fish. After initially fishing up at near the "Rainbow Club" early we soon headed down to the famous "green cottage". The water there was perfect spawning gravel and there was plenty of guys fishing the gravel. Some had even hit fish but we didn't see any fish caught. There river has an armada of drift boats traverse it's narrow channel and as I walked upstream to get some water to myself I noticed a drift-boat pulled up and an angler being guided where to put his drift. They were clearly working visible fish. In no time they were hooked up and a nice steel came to hand. I watched those guys get four or five fish and they guarded that spot like lions. Every other drift-boat or shore angler had no chance at those fish. Ted and I fished hard and he hooked up briefly on some hot fish but none came to hand. I didn't hook a fish. There were a number of feisty resident brown trout to break up the day, which is much better by-catch than suckers. Towards the evening we noticed fish jump up on the gravel but mostly they were males and although sparring with one another we couldn't get them to bite.
A guide nets his clients steel on the P.M. upstream of the Green Cottage
Just another beautiful stretch of the P.M.
The day was long and tough but with water levels dropping we were sure the next day would be great. The flyshop mentioned there's been a big push of fish over the weir downstream and the river was filling up with fish fast. At this point we only needed one fish each to be happy. In the morning we had a plan and got up early to beat the drift-boats at "Armstrongs". I think I breifly hooked up with a heavy headshaker but upon feeling weight and a couple of throbs I came undone. It was enough to get me inspired though. unfortunately that was the last look I had. When I came back to the trail to wait for Ted I spoke with a guy who had fished downstream. He had a cabin on the river and knew it well. He'd gotten into fish and I later found out Ted had seen him hook and land a number of fish in just one hole. It turns out he's the guy from one of the DVD's I own and he said our plan of attack had been good but he also mentioned the fish in this stream are extremely pressure sensitive and it pays to know the good fish-holding lies and get your first drift in the right spot because every subsequent/wrong drift educates the fish to your presence. Obviously experience on this river is essential.
Just another beautiful stretch of the P.M.
We fished long and hard to visible fish most of the day. We fished broken water and deeper pools but again came up short. The fish were there but just not ready to feed. Our timing was probably only a few days off but I guess that's how it goes. That stream in particular is fantastic and we both agreed we'd love to fish it again and again. Even without catching fish it was a pleasure to be on that stream. We met a guy from Michigan that ties us flies and we had a good evening talking to him about flies and fishing and it would be nice to take him up on his offers to show us more of the river.
As we drove through Chicago on our way home we were a little disappointed with the number of fish but the scenery and streams are fantastic and if there is a place to get skunked, northern Michigan would be it.
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