There is a bit of an explanation to go along with it. Its sort of an intro to what Randy and I’s relationship is all about. Call it what you want. “Bromance”…. whatever… I wouldn’t trade it for much of anything.

Several years ago, my buddy Randy who I grew up with moved to Dallas, TX. It was a great move for him and his wife. I can’t imagine how they could possibly be in a better position. They are blessed with a beautiful daughter and a pretty damned good life and I’m happy for them all for it. Initially I was afraid that the distance would do what it does to many friends and we would shortly part ways. Fortunately for me (and I say me because I can’t imagine what my life would be like without Randy in it) I managed to get him hooked on fly fishing either soon after he moved or right before. I can’t remember what the timing was on that but either way it was, or may have been, the greatest thing I have ever done because since then we have gotten to fish together every year. I’m not sure that if it wasn’t for the fly fishing we would still be close but the fact that it is makes it even better. It seems for what ever reason, guys need a thing. I can’t and won’t attempt to explain why. It just is. Randy and I have been pals since we were about 3 years old. We’ve been through a lot. We shared his trap line when we were in junior high which as far as I can remember was the first outdoors thing we did. His older brother was a big hunter so it was only natural for him to get involved and I was just along for the ride I guess. I’ve probably seen him thump more critters on the head for their fur than either of us would probably ever admit to but that’s what we did back than and well… you can’t change the past and it wasn’t all that bad. In hindsight, we probably saved more folks from having to clean up a tipped over garbage can than we’d ever have known and coons and muskrat aren’t exactly wild steelhead so… After that we started racing BMX and from there it was skate and snow. Sort of in the middle of all that it was competitive sailing. I think that without question the sailing was the real dope. If you have ever done it, you would get the bond. If not, I’m sorry and if the option is there, give it a shot. There really is no greater connection between self satisfaction and pure “if I fuck this up we could all be hurt” teamwork. Its a beautiful thing when its done right. When you win, when it all comes together for a team sailing together, even if its only two of you, its a high that I feel is almost unobtainable any other way. Its you and your team verses the wind and its many directions, verses a fleet of how ever many. I guess in the context of this blog, the closest thing that I could say to the feeling is “guiding” your newest fly fishing “student” to their first fish on a fly that they tied themselves. And honestly, that doesn’t even come close. I don’t do it any more because when you get close with a team and that team is forced to split, no other team is good enough. It just won’t ever scratch that itch. The self satisfaction aspect is why I tie flies. The teamwork aspect is why I love to fish from a drift boat.

I know this pic may be a bit tired on this site but it just happens to be a pic of Randy and I and it was a stellar trip that year so here it is again. It also speaks to the above mentioned and it may be in the new Hyde catalog so that makes it super cool and worth the re-post.

Randy has been gracious enough to make several trips up here to come fishing with us guys. I really owe him a trip south to see the places he has discovered since he has gotten in to fly fishing. He has been to some cool spots. For me when he comes up its is the trip of the year. Not to discount any other trip because whenever, with whoever, its a treat, but for me to get to fish with the person that is most like my brother (damn I wish my brother would put down the golf clubs for a weekend and come fish with me!) is always going to be a great time.

This year  (short the lack of catching from the last post) was no exception. Standard procedure is that Randy and I will spend about 5 days up North and whoever makes it, for however long is always welcome. We’ve pretty much slimmed it down to whoever commits first to a total of 6. This year’s group was just that. Six guys, beginer to experienced, all staying here at this nice little hand built log cabin that a friend owns.

The place is about as much as you’d ever need on a fishing trip in the north woods. 80 acres to roam, a wood stove, a place to cook, a place to poop (and shower with hot water if you need to), and a few dry beds. It was built by Randy and his buddies several years ago and has been sold since then to another friend who, despite the empty gun casings, empty shotgun shells, and clay bird schrapnel from a few years back has agreed to let us in again. In our defense, we highly doubt that we were the culprits of the aforementioned but we don’t own the place so its not our place to say so much. That kind of thing isn’t really why we’re up there but whatever…

Randy and I got up there late on a Wed night and did the standard drink beer, shoot the shit, and go to bed for what we hoped would be an early day on the water. It wasn’t an early day but we did get up to clouds, fog, and a generally shitty forecast which we were pleased to hear. We hit the carry out for beer and Sparks then the fly shop for a spot and this for a weather report; “you guys be careful out there. They’re calling for rain.” Yeah… great… “like 2″ per hour hour rain.” Okay… We’ll believe it when we see it. An hour and a half later we beached the boat, hauled it up on shore as best we could due to the weight of the water, and bailed (with Sparks cans with the tops cut off) more water out of the boat than I would ever have thought possible for just a short burst of rain. I think if it weren’t for the “seemanship” (heheheh… he said seman…) we had learned from the sailing days we may have been in trouble. Really though, two world class sailors looking in a drift boat and saying, “hmmmmm… maybe we should stop and get this water out of the boat. I think its really effecting our performance.” Real pros… We probably should’ve stopped earlier but I had just moved the biggest fish I’ve ever seen in that stretch.  Or ever really so why stop? Nobody died or even came close so it was nothing more than a lesson in me getting a hand pump bailer which I have now so lesson learned. We didn’t catch much of anything but it was a good time.

“What the fuuuuuuuuuuckkkk…. Where are all the feeesh?!?!?”

The next day was breeze. BIG BREEZE! 40 mph gusts so we opted to fish the North Branch and go visit a buddy in Lewiston. The North Branch was great. We caught a handful of little brookies and a few decent browns.

We split up on some islands and in the process Randy caught a 16″ brookie (no pic of course) and I a 16″ brown (also no pic). Pretty good day on the North and a good visit with Scott in Lewiston. Scott has MS and a growers permit but got robbed of all his “meds” a few days earlier. They ripped the plants right out of the ground and made off with his entire stash. Normally I’d say that you had it coming for showing it to anyone. In this case, the guy truly could use it for his condition. Whoever did it should be more than kicked in the nuts.

The rest of the night… relax, eat some weird club sandwich pizza and wait for others to show.

And they did. With Four Locos in hand they came and kept our tired asses up on a count that they were fueled by crack infused alcohol disquised in a harmless looking can. I’m all for a Sparks in the morning but that Loco shit is outta hand. Whatever… again, nobody died and our livers did their job for another day.

The next day’s float went like this:

Big fish moved on one boat, big fish moved on the other boat, another big fish moved, big fish chased a streamer to the boat and then in figure eights at the boat, big fish chased and broke water over the fly……… not one ate. It is nice to see those guys but couldn’t at least one of them ate something? One other boat that was right behind us while we were having lunch did catch a 25″ fish and it was a guy we know so that’s good but…

Oh well. There is always this year. Which by the way opens April 1st and doesn’t close anymore! Thanks to all those that spoke up the new MI trout regs!

In closing I leave you with these last pics.

The above is an oddball pattern that saved the day on a few occasions. It needs a name and deserves one for its productivity. It was based on an old streamer pattern that I saw in Fly Tyer mag. All they had was a line drawing of the pattern so I made a visual note and when I sat down at the vise this is what happened. Saddles for the tail with white Puglisi in between, crystal chennile body, scruffy marabou sort of collar off of a pheasant cape, and a cone head. Biggest fish on it was only a 14″ bow but on a day when mostly what you’re getting is chases on other flies you take what you get and a 14″ trout is good enough for most of us anyway. Whatever the case, this fly caught a lot of fish when nothing else was working. It will be one of those that gets a “multiples” spot in my box this coming season.

Olive version of the Nutcracker. Zonker strip tail, palmered marabou over krystal flash, deer collar and spun deer hair head. Good sculpin pattern that gets some viscous strikes when fished from a boat and cast on the banks.

My version of the SHF (shit house fly. aka, McCunes sculpin). Mine is a bit beefier than the original. Zonker strip tail tied off and palmered up the body, fox tail collar with red yarn gill plates (not visible in the pic) under the deer hair collar, spun deer hair head. Same as above for strikes etc…

Murdich minnow. Originally tied as a small mouth pattern. Mine is a Puglisi fiber tail under krystal flash, I used polar fiber butts for the skirt, crystal chennile body top half colored with a marker and big holo eyes. This is one of those flies that I swore was too flashy for trout and was proven wrong that it isn’t. I poo-pooed it for a few years before I tried it. It is a great smallie pattern but trout seem to love it too. I think that because of it, I will start tying some of my trout streamers with more flash. I had fish come out of the water to pounce on it. Loads of fun and can be tied in a variety of colors.

I have a few other patterns that I am working on and have tried on trout last season. One of which is a combo of a Todd’s Wiggle Minnow and a Murdich Minnow. Its almost too fuggly to post but when I tie a few more I will. Its one of those patterns that I’ll tie for bass too. It is super erratic in the water, moves a ton of water, and gets the aggressive fish to jump on it. So far I haven’t moved anything major with it but it has caught some trout. If you have ever fished the “wiggle minnow” you know how much fun it is to fish and this one is just as fun but dives deeper.

You can read the rest of this story right here at The Drake Online with its fresh new look. Its an older story from last year or the year before but well worth the re-post here for the obvious reasons.

I sympathize with “The Junkie”. I know the pain of his addiction. Literally, I can still feel it in my elbow on my stripping arm from the last two trips up north. Tennis elbow has a partner in the world of fly fishing and it doesn’t come from casting. It comes from the answer to questions like this one:

“Dude, how is it that we are using the same fly and the same rig and you’re getting twice the hook ups on the same amount of follows?” He said.

“Strip faster.” I said.

Now I’m paying for it everytime I get the milk from the fridge. Streamer fishing for a few days from a boat can be tough on an old guy like me.

Clean up crew at MDOT launch. Mio, MI

This is a report from the “newbie” we took along with us for the  ASBWPA Clean Up. To be fair, this was not Scott’s first fly fishing trip so he really isn’t a true “newbie” but it was his first weekend on the Au Sable. We asked him to put together a little trip story for the Hatchless blog. He was kind enough to leave out some stuff that we may or may not remember happening. Friday night was kind of a blur. I’m blaming it on the scotch Scott brought. I am told that someone may have punched someone in the face. PBBFFFFTT, whatever, I’m sure the guy had it coming. (After all, he didn’t catch any fish on Friday, he was too busy wader shopping for the dumbass that left his waders at home.) I think some other demonstrations of stupidity also occured that night but like I said, blur…

Here’s Scott’s story.

Fly Fishing the Ausable
9/11/09
4:00pm. I’m sitting in my driveway, running through my head everything I packed and worrying about what important detail I missed. Other anxieties crop up as well. I’ve never really fished for trout before. Would I make a fool of myself on the water or what? Plus these guys, Mike, Greg, and Bill. We’ve tied a few flies, drank a few beers, and waded a stream once together, but what would they be like in close quarters?

4:10pm. Bill arrives and we load up. I know I’m missing something but I can’t think of what.

4:30pm. Loaded Mike and we are officially off!

5:30pm. Obligatory side trip to Cabelas where I purchased a 2 day Michigan license and tried not to drool over all the cool stuff.

6pm. Leave Cabellas (Almost- We had to return to buy waders for Greg)

10:30pm. Arrive at the Loop, a. primitive camp site on the Au Sable. Mike handed me a head lamp. Inside I was laughing at the need for light. I figured once my eyes adjusted I’d be okay. Wrong! The darkness greeted us and it was overwhelming. I noticed right away that looking at  the sky without any light polution lets you see the stars so clearly. After a  few minutes of marveling at that I set up my tent and unpacked the truck. Greg who had arrived ahead of us had a raging camp fire going. It was chilly so I went to the campfire and realized then that I had forgotten my chair.

9/12/09
7:00am. I haven’t slept a wink. My air matress had a hole in it and I ache from exhaustion. Opening the tent flap, I step into a still dawn morning airbrushed with fog. Dead silence. Dead still. It almost seems a shame to wake my friends, but after all, there is a river to clean and then fish to catch. I go from tent to tent trying to wake them up and it feels too much like my morning efforts to get my kids up for school.

8:10am. We park by the river and exit the truck. I see the river for the first time in the daylight. Walking toward the river I am reminded my love for water. I watch as the crystal clear water moves quickly under the blanket of fog. I ache to grab my 7 weight and start fishing and say the hell with the clean up. But I don’t let the allure of the water act as a siren call and take me away from the task at hand.

8:30am. Jazzed on coffee and donuts, handful of day glo orange bags in hand, and two pointy sticks safely stowed away, we begin our float. Lots of garbage to collect from what I hear.

1:30pm. We land at Comin’s Flats and Tom from ASWBPA greets us at the landing and says that the “Boys from Toledo” cleaned up on the raffle. We dump the trash and get fed courtesy of the ASWBPA. Turns out we won two gear bags, a fly rod, and a fly line. Cool return for our efforts. The “Big Waters Group” runs a great clean up. They greet you in the morning with coffee and donuts and send you off after the clean up with a belly full of burgers and dogs. Not a bad gig for a few hours of work and good fish Karma. After lunch we head to the drift boats and gear up. I prep my 7 weight and switch from a floating line to a sinking line. But I’m way too eager. While my friends continue their efforts to get ready, I wade in and fish.

2:00pm Let the drift begin! Now we’re fishing! As you might guess with the Hatchless crew it’s streamer fishing all the way. About fifteen minutes in I have the first hookup on a crystal minnow with an olive tail. I caught two more on an olive wooly bugger with a lot of crystal flash worked into it.

7:30pm. Tired, we anchor mid river and take a break, awaiting the dusk. These white bugs started drifting in and I saw a few rising trout. I couldn’t resist. I switched to my 5 weight with the floating line and tied on a white dry fly. I blew several strikes before finally landing one as the sun finally disappeared. When the sun was gone, we started the drift again. I kept working the dry fly in the dark, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how I would know if I got a strike because I could see nothing at all. Then BAM! A trout struck hard and had to be fought into the boat. After that we started mousing. This consisted of a big mouse fly being hurdled to the banks and retrieved slowly. Tricky when you can’t see in the dark. I had a trout slap at it once but that was it.

9:30pm. Our big sky moment, we dropped anchor and just enjoyed the night. The river, maybe 60 feet wide, had the banks covered in these huge towering trees. And above that a night filled with stars so bright you could practically read by them.

10:30pm. The drift over, we grabbed some food and supplies and headed back to camp.

9/13
7:30am. Up and at em! This morning we had to break camp. No fog today and noticeably warmer.

9:30am. Got my coffee and breakfast from McDonald’s while the trucks were moved around. These guys had been living off oatmeal and peanut butter for days! I don’t know how they do it, but I was grateful for something hot.

10:00am.  I only caught two today, though the others had a much more productive day. I lost a couple of flies to wear and tear and the brush in the water.

3pm. By the time we hit the landing I was ready to call it a day. I could tell I was getting tired because my casting rhythm kept turning to crap.

3:30pm. The boats are loaded and we head home.

8:30pm. Bill and I arrive at my house. As we are emptying my gear from his truck, I look up at the sky. I spot a few persistent stars but nothing like the night before. I point this out to Bill and say my goodbyes.
I am finishing off writing this article a week after we left. All I can think of is that big sky and going back. I have a nice weekend planned with the family, but it’s hard to compare to a weekend drifting the Ausable. The trip has forever changed me. I now know what fly fishing for trout is like. I now know I can hold my own out on the water. I also know that a weekend with Bill, Mike, Greg is a weekend of fun to be treasured. Thanks guys!

Here’s a few pics from the weekend.

Had a good turn out for boats this year. Here's 3 of the 7 from this year's event.

Sign in and get your raffle tickets!

Tom Buhr. ASBWPA President, 2009 Riverkeeper award winner, general bad ass of conservation.

A man and his trash poker.

We’ll be hitting the ASBWPA Clean up gig on Sept. 12th. Click the link for details and contacts on that one. The Trophy water gets a solid pounding from sloppy canoe folks all summer long and it needs your help! (Fisher folks too but its easier to blame the canoes for the obvious reasons)  ASBWPA makes it worth your while with prizes and a BBQ afterwards.

The upstream clean up is also well worth it for the same reasons. Rusty Gates from Gates Lodge and Anglers of the Au Sable has been running this one for many years. It covers three rivers, the Au Sable main, South, and North branches and is also followed up by a BBQ. Rusty gets a load of  folks up there. We’re hoping to see some of them make the jump and help us out downstream this year to level the field a bit but either way, the river will love you for it no matter which section you choose. Check the Anglers site for details on Rusty’s clean up.

Again, BOTH gigs are on Sept. 12th. Hope to see you there!

As for the fishing… eh… not so great but with a few high moments. Like I said we only managed to catch a few fish at night and missed a few more but there is always the one that makes standing in a river at midnight worth the trip. I went out alone one night for about an hour and a half and got myself in position to cast to what sounded like a few good fish. After several drifts with a hex and no takers I switched to an iso and started throwing parachute casts downstream to a fish I heard slurping. Less than a half dozen casts and my line went tight. It was of one of those moments that I have heard about so many times in the past. You hear the slurp and then in less than a second you’re on to a fish that in my case I wasn’t expecting. Unfortunately for me, as fast as it happened was about as fast as it ended. It was a good fish and I know this because it bent my 5wt. to the butt without much effort from me, i.e… my dumb ass didn’t set the hook, and it sounded like a toilet flushing when it rolled and then, BINK, it was gone. Maybe the hook set itself because the fish broke me off which made me feel a little less like a dipshit. In hindsight getting broke off is probably better than getting a fly thrown at me in the dark. Did I mention how dark? I’m pretty sure it was a new moon and where we were there isn’t exactly a lot of city lights to brighten the sky.

As far as this hatch, the hex, goes. I have made several attempts to connect with it and have basically decided that if you’re not there for a week you are wasting your time. This is not to say that a trip up North is not worth it, it always is. Its just that in my experience with this hatch, limited as it may be, its tough to be in the right place at the right time if you don’t “know” the water. Probably well worth shelling out the coin to hire a guide for the night and take notes for next year. Or, the next several days. Whichever the case. Hopefully next year it’ll be the latter. Hard part about the whole thing is anteing up when you own your own drift boat. Even harder is when your “crew” owns two and a jon boat that would do the job just, well… nearly as well. What the hell. Its just fishing after all. Nobody died and everyone has a good time regardless.

The rest of the trip also brought a few surprise fish though I’m not entirely sure why I found these guys surprising.

That’s a happy Thomas J with a couple of good Au Sable smallies.

As I said, I’m not sure why I was surprised because I have caught warmwater fish on this stretch before even further up stream. It souldn’t have been a surprise but for whatever reason it was. Tom was hitting the “scum lines” hard in search of who knows what and these guys were the result. Not worth complaining about in the least.

I’ll finish with a few more pics from the trip.

This is Kwakerz learning why “trolling” with a sink tip and drinking whiskey might be a bad idea. He wanted to save that fly.

Side channels are a great place to escape the canoe traffic in the main flow.

Hands down. One of my favorite runs in the Trophy Water.

What would I call a Grand Slam on my home water? What would a Hat Trick be on my home water? Then came the real question…

WTF is my home water?

What kind of flyfisher can I be with no home water?!?! I started searching through the pics of places I’ve been searching for a place to call home.

Unknown- PA

Mad River- OH

South Branch Au Sable- MI

The local whore pond- OH

Rocky River- OH

Au Sable Mainstream- MI

Unmentionable- OH

Unmentionable- OH

I started to find  myself in a bit of a panic as I realized that not one of these places is less than a half hour away from my house.

Then I remembered this:

and how the guy that took these photos, while he loves living on this nice little river, gets a little reminder from Mother Nature every once in a while that she is still the boss.

Then the  panic resided and I realized that it doesn’t matter where I live, I can call any body of water home. Being on the water has always been home for me. Ever since I was a kid I have always felt better when I am near water and I’m guessing that I always will. Sure, I would love to have my own personal lake/pond fishery to manage and call home but for now I’ll be very happy to have the Midwest’s waters, cold and warm, to call my home waters.

Now back to Hat Tricks and stuff…

What is a Hat Trick on your home water? What about a Grand Slam? No need to mention the name or place if you don’t want to. (Remember, a hat trick is three and a grand slam is four. That was the part the had Foul Hooked all pissed off so we better get it right here)

More story to follow after the weekend. Hopefully there will be some fish porn to go along with it.

Part of the excitement for the creative fly tier is naming the fly.  But lets be  honest someone, somewhere has probably assembled the same material arrangement before, and named it themselves.  But the best fly names are those that have a story. Hence, the brief and pointless story of the S.H.F…  One of my “go to” streamers for trout and smallmouth is a simple sculpin pattern consisting of palmered and zonkered rabbit strips and a spun deer hair head with a collar.  It probably had a name when I tied it but I don’t know what it was.  While fishing it one day with Caulfield, he points out that I am fishing with a “Hedgehog” or “Woodchuck” or some other name I can’t remember.  That’s two ‘official’ names now that don’t mean anything and no one remembers.

Soon after, Caulfield fishes one of the Hatchless home waters (Michigan’s Ausable River) with a guide who actually gives him this very same pattern but refers to it as an S.H.F.  and since then, the name has stuck with me.

Why????  Simple.  The guide had found one of these flies stuck to the door of an outhouse, liked it, copied it, and used it.  Hence the name ‘Shit House Fly’.  The moral of the story, name  your flies something fun.  You are the only one you have to impress.

Kelly Galloup has mastered this idea with flies like the ‘Zoo Cougar’, the ‘Sex Dungeon’ and the ‘Green Butt Monkey’.