It’s Salmon Season!

Posted on August 27, 2013 by fsutroutbum

It’s salmon season here in west Michigan, a time of the year when people head to the various rivers famous for their runs. It’s where launch ramps have traffic jams like one would find at a gas station offering its product for $2.50 a gallon.  When this craze first hit the state, after salmon were stocked in the Great Lakes in the 1960’s,  people would venture out into the water in boats that were made for small inland lakes or rivers, not a hundred and eighteen mile  wide by three hundred and seven mile long body of water!  Most of us didn’t have a clue about what to use or how to fish for these “new” salmon.

I remember standing on a pier and watching a fisherman casting out and getting a hit.  He set the hook. The fish took off for parts unknown and a bewildered man stood there watching the line being stripped from his reel until the end of the spool was reached and the line snapped.  There the poor guy stood with a rod and an empty fishing reel in his hand and a look on his face that ranged between sorrow and amazement.

Over the years technology has changed the way salmon are fished.  Basic fish finders now have LCD screen that give direction, speed, and water temperature and enhanced displays that can be adjusted for depth.  Down riggers are electronic and give depth readings.  Rods and reels are made especially for trolling for these “speedsters of the deep” and are also used for the trout that share these waters with the salmon.  The boats used today are much more seaworthy which allows the fisherman to venture further from the shore.  For those of us familiar with the Great Lakes we know how treacherous these waters can be when a sudden storm comes up. Salmon fishing season is synonymous with storm season.

This past week a friend invited me to go fishing to find some of these ‘silver speedsters”. I was ready.

I am always ready to fish.

We launched the 17 ½ foot boat and proceeded through the channel towards Lake Michigan.  The downriggers were set at 15 feet and we also had two rods with Dipsey Divers set.   Slowly moving through the channel, a rod suddenly sprang to life. I jumped up, grabbed the rod and set the hook and began to reel hard.  Fifteen minutes into the evening and we were hard onto our first fish. “This is going to be a great night”, I thought.   After a short battle the first fish was boated and lines were reset.  We had barely cleared the arms of the channel when the rod again signaled we had hooked another fish.  I could tell by the pull of the rod that I was into a large fish.  I reeled in the line but the fish had other plans and took the line back out.  .  Eventually, I had the upper hand and we boated another fish.  But alas, neither fish was a salmon but were both freshwater Drum. Not exactly the “silver speedsters” we’d hoped for.

Oh, well, there’s always tomorrow and as I said earlier, I’m always ready to fish.sheepshead

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A Misty Morning Memory

Posted on August 21, 2013 by fsutroutbum

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAAugust can provide some mystical mornings in west Michigan.  The warmth of the day is undone by the coolness of the night and morning is enveloped in a ground fog.  That was the scene that awaited me that morning on the river.  Standing on the high bank above the river I could only see the fog that enshrouded the water.  It was like a cushion that stifled the sound of not only the stream but of the woods, a gentle hush upon the land.  I sat on the tailgate of my Ford Ranger putting on my waders, assembling my 5 weight rod and finishing a cup of coffee while enjoying the stillness of the morning.  Mornings like this are to be savored not rushed through.

Eventually I wandered down the trail to where I would carefully enter the water and attempt to move with stealth so as not to disrupt any feeding trout.  In the past, because I can be as graceful as a three legged elephant, I had spooked some fish within the first 20 feet of my point of entry.  Today I was not going to repeat this mistake and so caution was the order of the day.  My first cast was to a log jam just a mere 15 feet away and instantly I was rewarded with a nice ten inch rainbow.  My ego was inflated and as I moved forward after releasing the fish I made an awkward move and spooked a nice trout.  Like they say pride goes before the fall.

Moving downstream I remembered the first mistake of the day and so proceeded with caution.  The mist still hung heavy over the river and limited the visibility of the woods along the low banks.  Another cast to a medium depth run produced a fat 16 inch brown.  Yes this was definitely going to be a good day.  The river to myself and fish actively feeding, what more could a person want.

Ahead was a nice run with brush and trees overhanging the river.  The only way to fish this very tight area was to move close to the opposite bank and roll cast a fly towards the target and then let it drift downriver.  My first cast was met with a heavy strike and the hook was set and I fought to keep the fish from heading down stream.  Eventually the fish was brought to the net and released.  As the run was not disturbed I made another roll cast to the same area and proceeded to let the fly drift.

It was then that I heard that noise.  A very low short grunt or was it a growl? This was bear country and my senses told me it was close to the bank where I was and so I tried to see through the fog and listened for another sound so I could zero in on it and identify the source.  Unable to locate the sound I moved closer to the bank and strained to see what may be there while not focusing on the river.  Suddenly the river exploded as my movement stirred a salmon from his hiding place and my heart skipped a few beats and was in my throat.  I sat on the bank knowing that the commotion in the river from the salmon and me sent whatever was on land to the next county.  The only question I had to answer was could I steam clean the inside of my waders.

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What’s In A Name

Posted on August 20, 2013 by fsutroutbum

hats and wadersWhen I was growing up, fishing was about catching dinner. In West Michigan that meant sitting shoulder to shoulder on the channel wall with a cane pole or rod and reel and filling your bucket full of perch. Those days are pretty much gone and today fishing has taken on a different personality.  The bass fishing fraternity has evolved into a competitive sport complete with contests where the participants spend two or three days flying around some waterway in sleek fiberglass crafts, powered by engines of obscene horsepower.  The players are mostly friendly to each other. Their camaraderie is in the pursuit of the specie and a love of their boats.

Muskie fishermen are united by their persistent devotion to the fish caught by ten thousand casts.  This type of casting involves throwing heavy lures for extended periods of time hoping for that fifty- inch-plus fish of their dreams.  While the catch rate is small compared to other species, the thrill of the catch is great.  If you don’t believe me just go to a meeting of a musky club and you can feel the electrifying excitement as they trade stories and techniques.

Then there is that group of men who go wading in rivers.  They might use spinning or fly equipment but they have one thing in common besides enjoying being on the river. That is, no matter how much or how little they paid, or what name brand of waders they own, failure will come. Murphy’s Law states that on the coldest day when the water temperature is a few degrees above freezing over and the fish are biting, your waders will fail.  Hence, the first part of the name of my blog.

Over the years I have enjoyed the writings of men like Patrick McManus, John Gierach and Dana Lamb.  During those hard water months when one anticipates spring, these authors and others help pass the time and “place” you on a stream in your imaginings. When I was younger I enjoyed a column in our local paper by an outdoorsman by the name of Whitey Sawyer.  Through his column I developed a desire to pursue trout with the fly rod.  Earlier this year when I was fishing one of my favorite rivers (if it has trout and is wade able, it can quickly become a favorite. Can I help it if I’m fickle?). I had the opportunity to meet Mr. Sawyer.  Like Gierach, McManus, me, and others, he sported a hat that even a second hand store would reject. These hats share a common denominator. They are worn out, thread bare or even holey, but they are comfortable.  One cannot help but feel naked without such a hat. Certainly no self-respecting river angler could feel right fishing without one. It’s the raggedy hat that defines the seasoned angler.

So there you have it – leaky waders and raggedy hats – a fraternity of which I am a proud member.

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The Rivers Song

Posted on August 11, 2013 by fsutroutbum

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Rivers are melodious, they play different songs that like the sirens in Greek mythology entice the fisher person and often cast a spell over them that continues to bring them back time and again.  When you are on your favorite river, sit quietly on the bank and listen.

Do you hear it?

Maybe it is the roar from a series of falls as it crashes over rocks like so many percussion instruments or an enchanting tune from the water flowing over logs and rocks as it drops in its journey towards the lake.  Some rivers play a very hushed song as the water flows slowly and quietly on its journey.

My favorite river is one that plays that enchanting tune and I hear it long before I see it.  The sound beckons me as I walk through the forest and underbrush and then suddenly there it is, ever flowing ever-changing.  A heavy rainstorm or fallen tree may have altered the flow, new pools appear and old ones deepened or filled in.

This is a phase of life of the fly fisherman and I hope that you will enjoy the journey that I share in the posts.

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