What can I say about Michigan? I'm trying to remember back on the trip and it's now early July so some things might be a bit iffy. I know this much though - there were plenty of steelhead and they were super HOT. We hooked more fish that I could keep count of but only landed a handful of fish. With water temps up the fish were electric, leaping and jumping and running like I've never come across. They were more like fall fish than spring spawners.
We left Minnesota early and got to the Muskegon River with plenty of time. We sat at the landing watching huge schools of small trout swat at tiny midges that were coming off. All of the "sports" were coming in with their guides for the day and we were wating for ours to be done with his and pick us up for the evening session. We've heard nothing but good things about Chad Betts and he was our guy. When he first saw us we could tell he was tired after a full day of fishing and immediately informed Ted he wouldn't be fishing in his boat if he continued to wear his studded wading boots. A few minutes after drinking a full bottle of "monster" he began to warm to us (although I prefer to think he warmed to us after he got to know us a little better). He was happy we weren't interesting in fishing to bedded fish and soon had us on fish. Within two or three drifts I was slammed and three headshakes later I was left nursing a limp line.
The wind was up and making it very hard for us, especially because we were both pretty new at chuckNducking. Ted was next up and we soon had a beautiful chrome hen being photographed. Ted got on a roll and hit five fish straight until I finally broke the trend and then landed another couple. With the wind we were having trouble feeling takes but even so, that's pretty bloody good steelheading for four short hours.
But as well as the fishing Chad is very knowledgable about steelhead, both fishing for them and the biology and ecology of them. It was a pleasure to talk with him and I'd fish with him any time. Considering the hours he fishes he still conveys a love of fishing and particularly steelhead fishing.
After a good chat at the ramp we headed north to Baldwin to our motel in Baldwin, on the banks of the famous Pere Marquette River. In the morning we met up with our guide, Mike Batke and were soon drifting down the river. The main run was done and temps were high but a few fish could be seen holding here and there. Plenty of trout were very evident. We started out throwing streamers and did move a steelhead but the morning was pretty slow. There were enough fish around to keep things interesting but the water was very low and super clear. We were fishing with 4X fluorcarbon tippet and using size 10 and 12 nymphs. Hookups were fairly common but were followed by God-awful explosions, blistering runs, leaps (I had one jump clean onto the bank and then back into the water) all in the direction of the ever-present logjams and downfalls. It was great fun!
As evening approached Mike had us positioned in his favorite hole. It was fantastic. The fish were jumping up onto the gravel and there were so many it looked more like the craziness of the salmon run than steelheading. Again though we had the problem of huge, hot fish on light line and tiny flies. Eventually though it was all worth it when I landed a colored up buck that came out at more than ten pounds on the boga grip. It was last light and a sensational way to finish the day. There were more hookups but no more landed.
A nice Pere Marquette buck
We left Minnesota early and got to the Muskegon River with plenty of time. We sat at the landing watching huge schools of small trout swat at tiny midges that were coming off. All of the "sports" were coming in with their guides for the day and we were wating for ours to be done with his and pick us up for the evening session. We've heard nothing but good things about Chad Betts and he was our guy. When he first saw us we could tell he was tired after a full day of fishing and immediately informed Ted he wouldn't be fishing in his boat if he continued to wear his studded wading boots. A few minutes after drinking a full bottle of "monster" he began to warm to us (although I prefer to think he warmed to us after he got to know us a little better). He was happy we weren't interesting in fishing to bedded fish and soon had us on fish. Within two or three drifts I was slammed and three headshakes later I was left nursing a limp line.
The wind was up and making it very hard for us, especially because we were both pretty new at chuckNducking. Ted was next up and we soon had a beautiful chrome hen being photographed. Ted got on a roll and hit five fish straight until I finally broke the trend and then landed another couple. With the wind we were having trouble feeling takes but even so, that's pretty bloody good steelheading for four short hours.
The first fish to hand
Another nice chromer
I finally get one to the boat
Chad holding up my last fishBut as well as the fishing Chad is very knowledgable about steelhead, both fishing for them and the biology and ecology of them. It was a pleasure to talk with him and I'd fish with him any time. Considering the hours he fishes he still conveys a love of fishing and particularly steelhead fishing.
After a good chat at the ramp we headed north to Baldwin to our motel in Baldwin, on the banks of the famous Pere Marquette River. In the morning we met up with our guide, Mike Batke and were soon drifting down the river. The main run was done and temps were high but a few fish could be seen holding here and there. Plenty of trout were very evident. We started out throwing streamers and did move a steelhead but the morning was pretty slow. There were enough fish around to keep things interesting but the water was very low and super clear. We were fishing with 4X fluorcarbon tippet and using size 10 and 12 nymphs. Hookups were fairly common but were followed by God-awful explosions, blistering runs, leaps (I had one jump clean onto the bank and then back into the water) all in the direction of the ever-present logjams and downfalls. It was great fun!
As evening approached Mike had us positioned in his favorite hole. It was fantastic. The fish were jumping up onto the gravel and there were so many it looked more like the craziness of the salmon run than steelheading. Again though we had the problem of huge, hot fish on light line and tiny flies. Eventually though it was all worth it when I landed a colored up buck that came out at more than ten pounds on the boga grip. It was last light and a sensational way to finish the day. There were more hookups but no more landed.
A nice Pere Marquette buckNext morning we were up bright and early and headed down to spot that Mike had suggested. We were wading anglers today and therefore more limited. Still, when we got to our spot fish were on the gravel and not too wary. It wasn't long before I was hooked up on a little male and this one I actually got to slip a finger into it's mouth before it escaped me. The same pattern continued of hooking fish with blistering fun ensuing, but never getting that final satisfying thrill of holding the fish in your hands.
Once the sun came up we decided to explore some other rivers in the area. We'd never seen the little Manistee so headed up there. It was the middle of the day and the bright, hot sun was high in the sky so things didn't look good for fishing. However, right as we walked in there was a hen and two males on gravel right out in the open in water less than six inches deep - CRAZY. Of course I fished to them and on the first drift a male slammed it and tore off before finding a log about thirty yards downstream (after four or five jumps). Even though the fish returned to the bed the fish got lockjaw and when I finally fouled the female it was all over as the fish sulked back to the murky water. Ted had moved upstream and as I followed I noticed there were fish everywhere, and pretty eager to hit the fly, but they're only do it in the first few drifts, if they didn't do it then forget it. They seemed pretty educated and once they knew your fly wasn't the real thing it was game over. When I finally caught up with Ted he had a spot with at least fifteen to twenty steelhead in there. It was a tailout under a shaded, overhanging tree, with logs all around it. It was shallow and getting a drift was difficult and the bunch of lead-chucking hills would have had trouble fishing this kind of water. As I sat and watched Ted hooked up a number of times but the blistering fish just had too many places to go and bust the line (and they knew it). Once hooked they'd charge straight to the nearest stick, rock, log or whatever. Every fight was a short one. Again though, it was heaps of fun.
I did hook more fish and a particularly memorable one was a group of three steelhead that were in a hard to see spot with fast water over it and an overhanging branch to conceal it. By this time word had gotten out that the DNR had passed all the fish from the downstream dam that morning (hence all the aggressive fish) and now anglers were filtering everywhere. To find these undisturbed fish was a blessing. Anyway, after many casts to get a drift close to my fish there was a great take and the battle was on. Somehow this time the fish stayed out of the woods and I got it into a deep pool below. The fish put on a fine display and was beaten. I had the bottom jaw between my finger and thumb when it shook its head a final time, drove the hook into my thumb and drifted back into the depths. That fish I do regret losing, not because it was big (it wasn't) or it was particularly pretty (it was a colored up buck) but just the challenging situation that I almost overcame. There is no doubt this is an especially pretty stream.
We got into more fish that evening and returned early the next day. Fishermen were everywhere and the fish were very skittish. Every patch of gravel was occupied so I tryed fishing dark water as close to gravel as I could come without obstructing another angler (something not everyone on the river does). I hooked up with one heavy fish in a deep, cloudy pool but didn't stay hooked up very long. By mid-morning Ted and I were off to look at the Big manistee. Oh what a sight! So many fishermen in such a small area. We just had to take photos. I did get to see a very proud young boy heaving up a steelhead all the way from the river to the carpark (an impressive set of stairs I must say) and couldn't help but take a pic.
We returned back to the PM and rested in the motel until the sun got lower. I hooked at least one but again it was a long distance release but you could tell the water was getting far too warm and just too low to keep fish in the upper reaches of the river.
In the morning we headed down to the White river and for a time it seemed lifeless, but a few clouds came over and we hooked up with a few. Ted managed to land a nice one and we decided that would do it. There were too many kayaks and canoes and summer recreators to even feel remotely like steelheading conditions so we headed home. Of course, now we're kicking ourselves because that night it clouded up and some light rain fell. I'll bet the White River was going bonkas. I'll tell myself there was also too many fishermen as well because it was a weekend. In the end it was a great trip with plenty of fish to fish to and the ones that made it to hand became memorable and trophies, probably the way a steelhead should be.
Me hooked up with a nice silver jackOnce the sun came up we decided to explore some other rivers in the area. We'd never seen the little Manistee so headed up there. It was the middle of the day and the bright, hot sun was high in the sky so things didn't look good for fishing. However, right as we walked in there was a hen and two males on gravel right out in the open in water less than six inches deep - CRAZY. Of course I fished to them and on the first drift a male slammed it and tore off before finding a log about thirty yards downstream (after four or five jumps). Even though the fish returned to the bed the fish got lockjaw and when I finally fouled the female it was all over as the fish sulked back to the murky water. Ted had moved upstream and as I followed I noticed there were fish everywhere, and pretty eager to hit the fly, but they're only do it in the first few drifts, if they didn't do it then forget it. They seemed pretty educated and once they knew your fly wasn't the real thing it was game over. When I finally caught up with Ted he had a spot with at least fifteen to twenty steelhead in there. It was a tailout under a shaded, overhanging tree, with logs all around it. It was shallow and getting a drift was difficult and the bunch of lead-chucking hills would have had trouble fishing this kind of water. As I sat and watched Ted hooked up a number of times but the blistering fish just had too many places to go and bust the line (and they knew it). Once hooked they'd charge straight to the nearest stick, rock, log or whatever. Every fight was a short one. Again though, it was heaps of fun.
Tucked right in the top-right is Ted's honey holeI did hook more fish and a particularly memorable one was a group of three steelhead that were in a hard to see spot with fast water over it and an overhanging branch to conceal it. By this time word had gotten out that the DNR had passed all the fish from the downstream dam that morning (hence all the aggressive fish) and now anglers were filtering everywhere. To find these undisturbed fish was a blessing. Anyway, after many casts to get a drift close to my fish there was a great take and the battle was on. Somehow this time the fish stayed out of the woods and I got it into a deep pool below. The fish put on a fine display and was beaten. I had the bottom jaw between my finger and thumb when it shook its head a final time, drove the hook into my thumb and drifted back into the depths. That fish I do regret losing, not because it was big (it wasn't) or it was particularly pretty (it was a colored up buck) but just the challenging situation that I almost overcame. There is no doubt this is an especially pretty stream.
We got into more fish that evening and returned early the next day. Fishermen were everywhere and the fish were very skittish. Every patch of gravel was occupied so I tryed fishing dark water as close to gravel as I could come without obstructing another angler (something not everyone on the river does). I hooked up with one heavy fish in a deep, cloudy pool but didn't stay hooked up very long. By mid-morning Ted and I were off to look at the Big manistee. Oh what a sight! So many fishermen in such a small area. We just had to take photos. I did get to see a very proud young boy heaving up a steelhead all the way from the river to the carpark (an impressive set of stairs I must say) and couldn't help but take a pic.
The Big Manistee Madness
One proud young fellaWe returned back to the PM and rested in the motel until the sun got lower. I hooked at least one but again it was a long distance release but you could tell the water was getting far too warm and just too low to keep fish in the upper reaches of the river.
The PM is a pretty streamIn the morning we headed down to the White river and for a time it seemed lifeless, but a few clouds came over and we hooked up with a few. Ted managed to land a nice one and we decided that would do it. There were too many kayaks and canoes and summer recreators to even feel remotely like steelheading conditions so we headed home. Of course, now we're kicking ourselves because that night it clouded up and some light rain fell. I'll bet the White River was going bonkas. I'll tell myself there was also too many fishermen as well because it was a weekend. In the end it was a great trip with plenty of fish to fish to and the ones that made it to hand became memorable and trophies, probably the way a steelhead should be.
The last fish - Ted's White river player
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