A 'Dry' week..

This summers time on the Miramichi was a bit different from past seasons. The river had recieved an incredible run of fish earlier but was now falling off hard, much like the water levels. Fish were around though, just a bit 'finicky'. Within the first couple days it was evident the fish had enormous preference for the Bomber.

Erl R came up from Maine with Mike, a great guy and experienced fisherman. He fished hard the entire first day with small bugs and wets.. with never a pull. Being a quick study he wanted to give the Bomber a try. Late morning he recieved his first rise and hooked it. The fish was played for what seemed to me a considerable amount of time on a Sage Xi2 8wt by a guy with A LOT of salt water fish fighting experience. Midway in I heard someone say that it was running hard up stream. I knew right then that it was likley a BIG fish. Eventually they subdued the beast and according to length conversion [43.5 inch] it would make 23.5 lbs easily. It was as big a fish as I've seen landed on the pool since I've been spending time on it. [pic to be edited in later]

He had a fantastic friday eve with two very nice Salmon on Bombers from up high on the south bank. One was a sweet kyped Cockfish that was full of attitude.. a very nice fish.



































Charles and Frankey Storey with a nice heavy Salmon.



















Had my best fish minutes of noon on a bright ~ slow a.m. Was fishing Charles 1107 BIIx on a long line down through and into slack softish lower water. I had a boil on the fly WAY down as I began stripping in which was repeated on next swing just as stripping began. Two cast right through same lie produced nothing on a straight swing.. Still standing in same tracks next cast came in the zone and I put some life in it with smooth even strips and WHAM solid assertive take. They seemed to want some sort of animation to the presentation. I took a couple grilse and moved other fish by casting straight out around submerged rocks and smooth short stripping a bug while working down at a brisk pace.



















Bright one on the Bomber. [Dickie Storey & I]



















Other high lights; Finding the Curtis fly shop downtown Blackville, a very nice place. Only a short hop downstream from our Blissfield camp.


Meeting Jerry Doaks Son Mathew, a very pleasant positive change of shop atmosphere.

The time was gone in a surreal haze..

Trout time..

My fishing so far has been tough! Had a grande fish to cast over a few nights ago. He was in a very tough slackwater lie tight to the bank under a bush. When my cast shot in and momentarily entangled the bush, then dropped to the surface like a dandelion seed drifting perfectly over him [with me holding my breath] and no take, I thought I might not get this fish which dissapointingly proved true. He was a good one.

Finally got into my first decent trout last eve, which started off tough because the repellant was forgotten. Not good. I had killed five to six mosqitos with one light swat many times when the no-seeums made the scene. I can't take those and was considering leaving when I thought I heard an oar clunk. 10 minutes later a guide I know from Traverse City rounded the bend and saved my evening. His client had taken a 24" Brown on the strip earlier.. quite a feat anytime let alone in the bright sun conditions. Fish were tough, random rises, and I'm pretty sure weren't taking from the surface. Cast sparingly over a nice trout for close to an hour that was head and tailing only 25' quartering upstream. As time went by the water became blanketed with smallish rusty spinners [Sulphers, I assume] Earlier I had a #12 biot spinner tied on as there were some big Quill Gordons in the air. Changed to a #16 and was losing faith in it when he finally rose on it. I was taken by surprise and swung on him like you were setting on a Muskie boatside! I waited a bit while cursing myself for such a rookie reaction.. he never rose again. I eased downstream as it was getting dark and lucked into a pod of fish working the spinners. One was right under the leading edge of a half submerged sweeper. Using the old shoot the cast in deep then draw it out to the line you need he was on with third shot. This rod is new to me, an 8' 2wt Redington DFR 3pc breaking my postal scales at a whopping 2 ounce flat. Very nice quick little rod, feels powerfull with fast reaction but bends nice with a fish on. The fish turned out to be smaller than I thought he might be but I was still well pleased.. lucky to even land him with all the wood he was in and tore around initially. When he moved out from that he went upstream hard tearing line off ..very cool.. but a mistake on his part, he was landed soon after. Picture of health, a good solid well fed fish of 15" - 16"

The good folks at our secretary of state had bungled my mail in licence plate renewal. I'd been waiting for tabs to arrive for weeks. Finally an envelope from them which stated [in a hand written perturbed script] I'd given them the wrong card info.. which was 100% matched / accurate. They didn't bother to return my only proof of insurance. Oh well, i'd be driving 1/2 way to a good fishing stretch to reach a branch office.

Tied a nice black sculpin with an orange throat and gold flash for the occasion. New to me System 8 reel and a 5wt Wulff Ambush line I'd traded a forum board member for over winter.. Wired the reel on my light 10' 6wt [3.4 ounce] Scott STS and left.




This section is what I consider 'early' so was not very optimistic for Steel but often there are some good Browns waking up and willing to play. Midway into the morning I feel the familier pickup and lift into good solid weight. The reel sang loudly on a hard run downstream.. no Brown trout here. Getting on the bank and changing my angle convinced it to run back upstream. Two jumps and a little short line work brought it bankside.




My luck held with the branch office stop on the way home, first good luck I've had there in a long time.

A breath of fresh air

Winter has not been kind this season.. Granted, there were a few days around the holiday week that were pretty nice.. but with my only sister [from Spokane] and only niece [Seattle] back on the home farm for a few days I passed on the fishing. Normally we recieve some sort of thaw in January but New Years day was the end of anything even resembling one. I should have, and even could have, went early on new January 1 but it was real easy to convince myself staying home might be a better option. It was a mistake.. Peeking at the flow charts later glared in my face just how much.. conditions appeared to be perfect. This little trib has fished best in December by far over the many years I've been on it. Oh well.. opportunities missed.

The next fishable day was Feb 05 and off I went with high expectations. There were no tracks in evidence on the old road.. a good sign.




I access the river from a remote county road service pull out and snowshoe in. I'd actually gotten over 3 miles from home and remembered I hadn't put in the shoes. Almost went on without them.. that would have been a BIG mistake. Most efficient few minutes I spent all day was returning to get them. The water was quite low with big wind blown drifts and plenty of shelf ice along the banks. Fishing went fairly well until the banks began caving in and icebergs started flowing thickly. The first few times a crack or crash rang out I jumped pretty good, they come out of nowhere amidst otherwise total silence. Fished hard over about 5 hours, took a nice 19+" resident Brown not to far in then nothing for a long time.




Last run, and one of the best, I had a good grab in the gut and some light little nips /nibbles down in the tail.. just the sort that reverberated rainbow up the line, through the blank, and into your hand. No go though.. I changed flies and went back to the head of the gut where the good grab came with no further interest. On the long walk out in the dusk I reflected on how lucky I was to encounter the Brown.

Feb 23 is the next good chance for fishing. While it's still cold outside I tie a grey skulpin streamer. I'm somewhat superstitious and fresh tied flies seem to possess good charm. Go over some tackle and I'm off. What a grand day, it's got a totally different feel to it than a couple weeks ago had. Second pool I fish reveals a startling phenonema I've never witnessed to this degree before. The banks / shelf ice had all settled and with bright sunlight thawed snow creating perfect rows of miniture ice sickles, each one an exact replication of it's left and right hand neighbor.. A lense couldn't possibly capture the wonder and awe they presented.. row after row.. all the banks within eyesight up and down, hundreds of feet. They reminded me of piano keys or possibly some sort of ornate brick a brack lace. Anyway, it was quite stunning. Had I been there in the early a.m. the suns position would have offered a much better shot.








Unlike the last outing there was life evidenced both visual and audio. A solitary Eagle soared through not that far off and the Crows were brash and brassy.. early signs of spring. One of the coolest things was a small flock of Bufflehead ducks that came upstream like rockets, in tight formation just inches off the surface. I stood immobile and when they reached me, timed to a micro second, the flight split each side blistering by @ Mach III.. their wing primarys making a tearing sound as they carved air with maneuvers.. I felt the breeze on my face.

Casting is going well, the slight wind is over my right shoulder and quartering downstream.. the fresh grey skulpin is swimming well.. Perfect. Just reaching the prime of the pool I fire one of those casts that for some reason you just know is the one.. sure enough just as it starts the turn I feel the pickup. Dropping the rod tip with it for what seems an unbearably long time I then give a good lift into.. solid shaking weight. About the time I decide it doesn't feel that heavy it comes up and never slows, shooting airborne, a bright silver missle of approximate 4.5 lbs. Back down in, a couple headshakes then running at me hard.. the line never tightened up again. Resting the pool for 10 - 15 minutes was easy, looking around at the piano keys and shooting a few more pics.. heard the spring song of an unrecognised bird but could never get an eye on him. I re-started just above where the fish took. On about the fourth swing below that marked spot the pickup replays itself, once again I lift into solid life.. only this time the connection remains. This fish never jumped, he might have at one time but I didn't encourage him. A nice Bulldog built Buck still cocky and full of attitude.





I finish my day out with one more good grab that came up empty. The fish would not comeback.. I was fine with that. The sun was dropping below the tree line as I fished the last pool. My guides really started freezing up then. They had been slowly closing all day, even with the direct sunlight, but only needed cleared occasionally. The problem was solved when I struck wood and broke off my fly. There was still good amount of daylight left but rather than push it I reeled up and went out.. it was more than enough to put the soul at ease.

Fall finally gives one up

It was a tough fall this year. Normally even I manage to stumble onto a fish but so far zeroed out. Even the day Charles and I spent with Pete on 11/13 never made the boards.. I could tell he was a little skeptical when we arrived at his cabin before daybreak. The water was low.. real low. The good folks up at Croton Dam hadn't let down any water for a couple days on an already skinny river. State contracts and free flow laws be damned I guess.. We at least had cloud cover. We gave it a hell of a go and managed to briefly hook one and one other good pull for the day. For some reason I wasn't surprised, I just had that feeling going in. Still a grand day with great company. Time well spent.

Two days later Charles is on board with Kevin F and has an absolutley BANNER day, four great fish with two of them well in excess of normal weights. It's also day one of our firearms Deer season so they have the river mostly to themselves. Word was that the same section we hit up with Pete two days prior was fishing very well too.. Again, I'm not surprised.




Earlier in the fall friend Forrest let it be known that he was going to have a few days leisure time around Thanksgiving and wanted to hit up the river. Charles is still on cloud nine from his last big day on the water and hungry for more, so he's in 100%. I'm a little more cautious knowing this state and the weather that can, and does, occasionally, completely and ruthlessly stomp out the best laid plans of mice and morons. I join in.. but with the weather clause held in reserve.

The date is set for 11/24 and wonder or wonders, by the forcast it shapes up to be decent enough to make me nervous. Meeting them at the boat storage early a.m. of the 24'th we pick up Forrest's drifter and get underway. Spirits were high, the day held promise.

Three in the boat is an ideal number.. it just works. Pitching big streamers for trout, around home or travel, it allows two guys to totally concentrate on covering the water while the third devotes his efforts navigating. Trading off periodically in a very informal rotation everyone gets a shot up on the bow, on the oars or from the stern. Swinging flies for Steelhead isn't much different. It's a full time job running the boat. Get it spotted and anchor where it needs be, and within only a couple swings from each caster, it's time to drop it a boat length. Anyone thats ever done this knows how much more complicated this is then the couple simple sentences imply! They can be a bitch to handle in fast water, get the anchor to bite, stay on the correct track.. the list goes on. The guy on the oars and anchors earns his keep.

Casting spey rods from any boat is a art in it's self and requires everyone to be familier with it. If so, things go without a hitch. It's nice to have attained that level. Forrest and I had agreed prior to share his LeCie 13'7" 9/10 rather than have a third and unnecessary all rigged taking up valuable space, under peril of someone losing their balance going down driving a knee into it. A spare was brought but left in the tube.

Forrest and Charles both tie excellent flies, I was set for the day so left my junk in the vehicle. Forrest has been honing his skills on Petes version of the Temple Dog Tube. He's about got it nailed.. it is a fish catching S.O.B.

Not long into the day we anchor on a great looking piece of water. This drift is one I'm not overly familier with but am fast becoming interested! Some very top shelf looking runs / pools. Charles is fishing the stern and gives out a shout, he's hooked up. Seconds later I see it flash gold, when it hits the net sure enough it's a nice resident Brown, a little malnourished, but still a good fish.. were on our way.




We leisurely fish our way downstream.. arriving on some broken gravel bar pockety type water. A few drops into it I get lightly picked off.. lowering the tip to it for a bit of slack and then sweep into throbbing weight. It's on.. finally. A fairly heavy spirited fish ripping off line, several times. Forrest puts the boat on the opposite bank so I can get out and land it. What a gorgeous fish! approximate 8 lbs of super fresh hen.. I'm so elated to finally see one up close again it's surreal.







The day is great by calender standards.. it is still quite cool with some breeze picking up. We drop downstream fishing, now I'm on the oars with Forrest up front. His casting is nice.. it's interesting being on board with two of the people you've started out with from scratch spey casting. We've each came a long way, working hard for any gains. Forrest is hooked up.. his nice cast paid off. I began moving the boat back towards the north bank, get the net out and at the ready. I get apprehensive netting fish, always afraid of some mismanaged or botched job.. not that there have been any but.. there were some tense words spoken many years prior on a remote Brooktrout lake in Ontario. A good friend had a dandy hooked and brought it by a bit deep but still within range.. the fish was green yet, I let it go through and recieved a silent glare.. just as it's coming back around getting in range the knot pops off and it turns down dropping from sight.. a confident sweep and lift the fish is netted, we are all glowing with the second score of the morning, a nice fresh 6+ pound Buck.




Continuing on, Charles is now front and center. We are all on cloud nine, the day is huge success and were basking in the sensation of no pressure just enjoying things to the fullest. Charles hooks up.. We are really excited now, these fish just don't come that often, and now a third is hooked. Gorgeous henfish.. shades of lavender on her lateral line. These fall run hens are so pretty they can burn your eyes.




The wind keeps gaining.. our casts still go out though not quite as pretty. It's getting to be a struggle but were unconcerned.. We fish out the day with no more takers, but again.. unconcerned. The day is a gift to each of us.

By the time we reach the launch it was really rocking, back to the latter November I know so well. As Forrest winched the boat up on the trailer we hear a big jet coming, it's already close but the wind had masked it. It's Pete, at first we thought he was alone but there was someone hunched down on the floor below the deckline out of most of the breeze.. we had a good chuckle over that, glad to see that it wasn't just us.

International Waters

Our northern boundary limit of Michigan is the International bridge, which spans the St. Maries river.



Directly beneath it is the area refered to as "The Rapids" a short [over one mile] river section draining Lake Superior into Lake Huron.. subject to Ontario's rule. Mid June through fall there are landlocked Atlantics present that can achieve mid to upper teens with an average of 4 - 8 lb fish. Also big resident Rainbows year round and Pacific Salmon throughout late summer & fall. Lake Run Rainbows [Steelhead] early winter through June.. even an occasional Lake Trout. Very inimidating place to fish.. Extreme tough wading and winds.

Not long after arriving home from New Brunswick I got an email from a friend in Suttons Bay planning a run-n-gun trip. In short, we spent 1.5 days on the Sault Rapids. Went very well, certainly no complaints. Eric, another fishbum like us, took a gorgeous 5 - 6 lb Rainbow in the early evening first afternoon in. I'm still not sure whether it's a resident fish [it is after one fashion or another] or one that simply never returned to the depths of Huron after spawning this spring, but if so she was fat healthy and sassy already. She shows a lot of specs even below the lateral line making me wonder. Odd thing is that I took a nice bright 2+ lb'r from same pool.. fact that they were holding there together adds to the specualtion.



I hooked a nice 7 -8 lb Atlantic first thing Fri a.m. which jumped high on the set then tore up the pool. We were connected for good amount of time, it ripped back down stream surging and head shaking coming unbuttoned. Good enough for me. Eric Was hooked up briefly to a nice Atlantic that tangled him in flyline when it came loose, tension has got to be unreal in that heavy water with a hard charging fish on. He had another [big one] charge up and slash at his fly in the surface film just a couple minutes later. After the a.m. things died.. tough going in clear sunny conditions.

The wind can be pretty brutal there, keeps a guy constantly searching for some cast that might go out. Theres some downright scary wading to be done and can be seriously intimidating at times. Eric is quite an aggressive wader, also subtly less height & weight than me so not as many worries stumbling along behind him [John is 6'5"!] He's also very physically fit just retiring from Iron Man and similar type racing this year and is normally ahead of me. Some areas the depth is well over your wader height [soft flows] but you can carefully pick your way along by stepping on tops of the big boulders. One slip though.. There are others where courage can put you out and on top of a boulder that may or may not be submerged for a great to tentative casting station dependant on the rock & angle, level of traction, and amount of current pouring over it. A slip from a couple of these spots would have meant BIGTIME problems.. not so much with having to swim the pool but more with significant rapids below. I was elated to fish 1.5 days and get out of there still dry. Staff & my carbide snowmobile studded soles were the only things that allowed that level of risk. I would not do it in cold water without a C 02 inflatable PFD, if at all.



For some context, the small red circle to the left on concrete berm is a man. Red circle in the center is a boulder I sat upon between fishing runs either side. It's a long perilous wade back from there! [click to upsize pic]

Ripples from the past

Journeyed early a.m. to a small stream that played the leading role establishing my fishing passion. It was where I first 'angled' for Trout with Dad at the ripe old age of 9.. busted my chin wide open [if you've ever noticed the scar on right side below my lip] tripping and falling full force on a sharp snag in the dark, requiring my first 9 sutures in life.. aged 18.. evolved into catch & release fishing with pinched barb spinners in my early 20's, born from the luxury of not having Trout to care for after a late night during mid week.

It's a tributary of the Big Manistee in one of the to few remaining areas escaping the 90's. Drove without much difficulty to a section where a huge Beaver Dam was erected during my mid teens, somewhere near 1980. Fishing was unreal there for a few seasons until the Beaver were trapped out or ran short of near food supply and left. Things degraded terrible almost immediate. Stagnant silt filled restricted pools, the old structures do huge damage. Flows slow and sand builds, water temps go into a warming trend.. fishing really suffered. I only went there once every few seasons, more as a pilgrimage than anything. It was slowly healing but overall still a sad state of affairs. Yesterdays trip provided a real treat! I'd stayed up late rigging an old st Croix 6'8" glass rod, loading line on a little 2 3/4" SA System 4 and putting together a fly box. Turns out the fly box was a waste of time, I tied on a #10 Muddler and caught a fish right off the bat 7:00 a.m. Somewhat surprised to see it was a Brooktrout.. Not at all uncommon but this stream has always been pre-dominate Browns. Fish started coming quite frequent and were all Brooktrout.. Beautiful little jewels with varying shades of vermillion to a vibrant orange sherbert painted on their bellys, clean twin parallel white and black lines on sharp edged perfect fins.



They were quite snappy, rose to and chased the Muddler with relentless intent. I was re-educated on just how much fun these small fish could be given half a chance, and harder yet, locating them. I laughed out loud many times and loved how they would rise to a fly on impact, rolling on it in an assertive calculated grab. The little glass rod was ideal for this fishing.

The Creek is shaping up nicely. Water is moving again, pools and runs are forming. Most important a lot of residual sand has washed through baring nice clean gravel. Unsure of an accurate temp but it felt colder than anything I've been on in a while. Guessing low to mid 60's.

There is nothing I have found that will humble a person quicker than casting fly line on one of these small intimate little tribs. Not that many years ago I would have left frustrated that I could do no better after clumsily crashing line around for an hour and seeing a few fish spook from the pools. A wide open setting where it's the norm to stretch a cast 30' or more, with the room for a moderate backcast, is so much simpler.. it never seemed like it should be though. Truths realised in practise. Next time I may have to step it up a stiff notch and try fishing dry.

They say time heals all wounds. I'm not sure I believe that but after nearly 30 years it has touched this small corner of my life and local in a very positive way.