Sunday, August 16, 2009

Corn on the cob parade





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Saturday, August 15, 2009

Pierce's Presents









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Elmo comes to town for Pierces Birthday







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Thursday, August 13, 2009

Ten thosand dollar fish!!!

Well, it was an adventurous trip across Lake Superior's South Shore up to the locks of Sault Ste Marie. It started innocently enough as I stole away from work a little early on my way up to Bayfield, Wisconsin to help my father-in-law with timing an open water swim race from Bayfield across to Madeline Island (one of the Apostle Islands). I did it last year so it wasn't a big deal to retrace my steps up to the house we were staying at. Awaiting me was some warm pizza to fill up the small hole left in my stomach from my constant binging on homemade chocolate chip cookies the whole way up from Plainview.

It was an early start (4am) to get ourselves and our stuff to the marina and we loaded up just as the sun poked up above the eastern horizon for the ten minute scoot across to the island. The morning was calm but a little on the brisk side for me. I was wondering if any of the registered swimmers were having second thoughts.

We set up early and without any trouble but right before the race I managed to drop my father-in-law's walkie talkie into the harbor. It was about eight feet deep but with the crystal clear water it was clearly visible, staring back at me in it's irredescent orange coat. Finally it was resurected from its watery grave by a teenage boy. That in itself was a memorable sight. It was early on a cold morning and although there were over two hundred swimmers lining up on the beach in Bayfield, they were at least wearing 5mm wetsuits. On the end of the dock was three teenagers, two girls and a boy, wearing very skimpy, two piece swimsuits, each trying to whip one another into a frenzy of courage (read temporary insanity) and leap into the cold embrasse of Lake Superior. Two of them finally managed the plunge (although I think the boy needed the extra feeling of bravado of rescuing our walkie talkie), leaving the final girl shreaking and desparately seeking the courage to plunge into water that her mind was telling her to avoid. Like good friends the world over the two wet friends got out of the water, and gleefully "helped" their friend overcome her trepidation and pulled her with them water. They all came up laughing, feeling a sense of teenage bravado, but soon the cold enveloped their sense of achievement and they scooted up the dock ladder and retired to the family hot-tub.

The race itself was pretty hectic and went off OK. There were a few problems with the sheer number of swimmers this year. Getting hat numbers was difficult and caused a few problems but nothing to serious. It is surprising how enduring such an event brings swimmers together and there was a fun, light atmosphere around the house. I think the swimmers really enjoyed themselves. It's not surprising the event keeps growing exponentially. This year they had to turn away many, many swimmers. We'll see what happens next year.

Back in Bayfield Steve and I shared a quick lunch before I headed east. My first destination was Porcupine Mountain State Park. When I arrived at the Presque Isle River section of the park it seemed like a nice park but not that spectacular. The falls were nice and it was a nice location along the beach but nothing that was outstanding. I did a nice hike and then headed east further into the park and this is when the park unravelled itself. It is a vast park, heavily forested with small lakes and streams and rivers (many of which hold steelhead runs and stream trout) with campgrounds ranging from rustic to cabins. I realised I missed so much and it would take many days to appreciate the place but the highlight was an overlook of Cloud Lake. Still, the day was getting late and I wanted to put a few more miles on the board before finding a camp for the night.

I ended up making to a small state forest campground that I think was Courtney Lake. It wasn't that late but my eyes were getting heavy and it had been a long day. I set up the tent and crashed. Even the huge storm (they got 7 inches of rain that night) with all of the lightening and thunder and wind couldn't get my eyes open, although I did wake up enough to push, pull and hold the walls of the tent that were threatening to flap themselves into oblivion.

I awoke to a soaked ground and overcast sky with some mist........................and several million mosquitoes. I packed up camp quickly and skipped away ASAP. I stopped in a small town outside Baraga for a McDonald's breakfast and listened in to a group of older men sit around and tell jokes. It seemed the five or six of them made a ritual of getting together at this particular McDonalds every Sunday and it was fun to overhear them talking and joking and making fun of one another. When the topic made it's way to local politics I realized I could finish the rest of my coffee in the car and headed off. Still, it made me smile as I thought of those guys for the next few miles.

As I drove through three lakes and eastward towards Marquette the scenery became prettier with lakes and streams to break up the endless forest. After three lakes thought the weather cleared quite a bit. I stopped briefly at a "Gander Mountain" coming into Marquette, drove around the city briefly, then headed along highway 28 towards Munising. Of course, there was construction and it was down to one lane and a big, old truck pulled out in front of me and decided to slowly crawl along. It didn't bother me as I had all the time in the world and as he slowed down to the point of almost moving backwards to turn down a driveway I just squeezed down the breaks to stay a respectful distance behind. Then, when I stepped on the gas to accelerate and enjoy the now open road in front of me the engine screamed as the revs soared. I immediately took my foot from the pedal then tried again.....................the same thing. I pulled off between some constuction cones and waited for the traffic behind me to clear thn tried things again. This time it wouldn't go in gear at all. I kept trying and finally it made it up into third gear and I headed along with my hazard lights on until I made it to a scenic turnoff. Here I got out and tried to calm down and figure out what to do. I hoped that giving the car a rest for a while might help and of course, my cell phone battery was flat.

I ended up limping the car another twenty miles into Munising where I parked it out front of a machanic. It was a Sunday on the U.P. and the sign said it wouldn't be open until 9am Monday. I figured I'd wait. Munising is actually a really pretty town with a good harbor and right next to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore. I was still fuming and wondering what to do when I walked into the office of the boat tour place. The sign said the trip was two hours long and the next boat left in three minutes. I figured that was as good a way to pass time as anything but I didn't have time to go back and get my camera. As it turns out the boat ride is good and the rocks are great but I don't think photos would do them justice. It's more of a scale thing and a single frame just can't capture the feeling and grandeur of the place. You just need to see it for yourself.

That night I spent the night in a hotel, spent the next morning re-walking a town that kept getting smaller and smaller the more times I walked through it while I waited for the mechanic to get to my car. When I finally got the news it was bad. The transmission was gone, the car was worthless and my nearest possible rental car was forty miles back in Marquette. I had no choice but to nurse the car back to Marquette and it made it into town and within three miles of the rental car place I was headed for. The rental place had no cars available for days, and neither did any of the other places I called. I was getting pissed off. I called the airport for flights and even that wasn't a possibility. I walked back to the car and there was a "State Farm" insurance office so I walked in and checked my options. The guy was VERY helpful and offered to drive me to different car yards, pick up my stuff from my car, called different mechanics and got quotes for gearboxes and checked availability. Finally, both he and my insurance person suggested the best thing was for me to buy a car and get what I could for a trade in. He suggested one dealer he trusted. To make an even longer story somewhat shorter, I bought a truck (well almost).


Because my banker didn't get the loan detail back to us before the DMV closed in the eastern timezone, the dealer couldn't register the car at the DMV, so I left for Sault Ste Marie with dealer licence plates and a car that didn't really belong to me in the eyes of the DMV. Oh the joy of the trip just kept mounting. Oh yeh, the weather had decided to turn from a beautiful day to nasty with rain and storms but at least they cleared as I headed east. I stopped for dinner outside Newberry and a song my father listened to a lot as I gre up was playing across the loud speaker. It was an Anne Murray song. I heap of strange emotions ran through me at this point but I also realized I must be getting close to Canada now if they're playing Anne Murray!

I made it across International Bridge late Monday night and spent the night sleeping in the truck. At 5am I met Johnny and we shared a breakfast before heading to the Marina. It was finally time to fish for Atlantic Salmon.

As first light evolved into dawn and then the sun popped up my expectations about Atlantic Salmon fishing were completely blown away. I have no idea how those expectations hold up in the great rivers of Quebec, Iceland, norway or Newfoundland but they certainly don't count for much in the Saint Mary's River. I won't spoil it here for those that haven't done it (just call or email me and I'll chew your ear until it bleeds) but if you have the means and opportunity I wouldn't hesitate to give Johnny a call and find out all about it - and I was at the VERY tail of the season. If you think I won't be back..........................well I shouldn't say too much in case my wife reads this.

We had overcast skies, unsettled weather with low pressure moving through and a breeze out of the West and the water wasn't too warm yet. Things looked good. We got the skunk out of the boat early with a five pounder (it measured over the 25 inches of a grisle but it was still only a two year old) and anyone that says Atlantics don't feed aggressively or take aggressively doesn't know what they're talking about. Oh yeh, that thing about them leaping.....................that is well deserved. They truly are the king of sportfish. That morning we boated another grisle and had slashes and hits from a number of other fish, including one or two of those bigger fish that really get the juices flowing as they scream towards and crash your fly.


The end of the morning session saw me head to the rapids to scope the scene there. I headed straight out to the Candian Pool and began swinging. After an hour or two, maybe three (time just melts into a soothing state as the water pounds around your legs, the roar of the rapids drowns out all other sounds, and your gaze and attention fixes on the fly swinging down through the broken and turbulent rapids before you) the fly stopped at the end of the drift, the rod throbbed and upon setting the hook line peeled off the reel at an alarming rate. I was well into the backing before clamping down on the drag hard. This was enough to turn the fish and the work began. I immediately thought it was my big atlantic but there was no jumping. It took run after stubborn run and each time I caught sight of it I got more excited. I could see a lot of blue in it and I figured it just had to be an atlantic. But then I noticed the black mouth and the familiar dorsal fin. It was a chinook but it was mint bright and fresh from the big lake. It was certainly the freshest king I've yet landed.


Within the hour I had what was certainly a good atlantic come up a smash my swinging fly two or three times but never hooked up but that was that. I had to get back to the marina to meet Johnny for the evening session. Now the sun was high and there wasn't a cloud in the sky and it just didn't feel "right". We fished hard and got a good number of follows, a few hits and two hookups, one of which was a good fish in the 15-18 pound class. It hit close to the surface and immediately went airborne. There was just no time to set the hook and then the fish twists, contorts and cartwheels while in the air so it's amazing how any of them get landed. Did I mention I'll be back?

The only fish that came to the boat was a nice steelhead that put on an impressive show and took a while to come to hand. It did come out of the water but not in the aerobatic ways of an atlantic. It's the first time in my life I've been a little disappointed to land a steelhead! Now I'm just sounding spoiled.


I spent the night close to the spot where I'd fished the previous morning and tried chuck-n-ducking the area as best I could from shore. I did have one hookup very early that was again in the two year class but it was another long distance release. Then it was back to the Canadian Pool in the rapids. I swung flies all day without any success. There was the odd salmon freejumping in the rapids to keep the furnace fueled but it was slow. I did hook up with a grile indicator fishing right around midday and I lost that fish trying to get it on the reel. I could have probably handled it just hand over hand as it hooked up only about ten feet from where I was standing. The season was definately winding down as there wasn't another angler around and it was kinda eeire wading back in across the heavy current of the rapids all alone. Still as I sat on the berm and watched the day slip away I figured it had been worth all the trouble but I was eager to see if I could make it back into America with "my" truck so after a quick meal at Wendy's and another chance encounter with Johnny I headed home. It wasn't a big deal at the border and I spent the night in the truck in a state forest just into Michigan.



I awoke well before dawn and headed towards another spot I wanted to check out - Taquamegon Falls State Park. I arrived at the mouth of the Taquamegon River just as a beautiful dawn broke the darkness but had to leave it quickly in search of a restroom. I found a very well equipped one at the lower falls campground as well as a captivating set of rapids and cascades through an impressive gorge. The upper falls were also nice and it's a place I'd recommend anyone traversing the big lake check out.

The final place I wanted to check out (I'd already decided not to check out the Mackinaw Bridge because it was out of my way and the toll part just seemed too much after the rest of the trip) was Grand Marais. Mostly it was because my wife grew up in Grand Marais, Minnesota so I just wanted to see the Michigan namesake. As it turns out I wasn't disappointed. It is a great town that is far enough off the main highway not to be swamped by tourists but it right next to Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore and there are vast beaches and huge sand dunes. Although it added plenty of miles to the journey (I also travelled many miles down a road only to find it was closed) it was well worth it. As I drove back through Munising and towards Marquette I did notice it was a beautiful place with sandy beaches and clear water. People out and enjoying the hot sun and doing it in a beautiful place. I finished what needed to be done and Marquette and headed for home, which was a long. long drive. It was hard seeing my faithful civic sitting in that car yard, stripped of it's pride and licence plates. Still, I'd do it all again, especially the part chasing atlantics! Oh I'm sure Sault Ste Marie hasn't seen the last of me.

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