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.

I received the email below from Tom Buhr today. Tom is the president of a grass roots organization that focuses on the Au Sable river in MI. He is the man we all wish we could be when it comes to having the balls and energy to fight the good fights and get motivated on the conservation front. I’m sure he made Rusty Gates proud on many an occasion. His group, which we are big fans and supporters of, can be found here.

Here is the email:

Subject: Newsletter: Attorney General Mike Cox’s StopAsianCarp.com

Please let me know.
…
Department of Attorney General

Yes. Its a big deal. Check out the site. Sign the petition. Send a letter. Whatever it takes.

You shouldn’t have…

Don’t get me wrong here, I can appreciate the fight of a catfish. They are strong fish and from what I’m told, they are pretty damn smart or at least high ranking on the sensory perception scale. (If you look at them on a purely scientific basis they’re actually pretty cool.) Listen to the podcast in that link. He talks about the mighty cat about half way through and speaks highly of the fish as a predator and a game fish. Yeah, they’re great fighters if you like to slog it out with a fat, lazy old bulldog, a log, or a size 17 sea boot full of mud.  Personally, I say you can keep the slimy creeps.

It seems like every year, once a year, I manage to find myself hooked up to at least one catfish. I think the first time it happened, and most every time after that, I was fishing the Maumee River for small mouth. The Maumee is a big river that averages about 2000 cfs. Its a major tributary to Lake Erie and just about every warm water fish under the sun will call it home for at least a portion of the year and a lot of those will be resident fish throughout the year. You never know what you’re going to hook when you fish this river. To date I have caught small mouth, large mouth, and white bass on the Maumee. Freshwater drum (sheephead), bluegill, crappie, and walleye have all eaten my flies there. One day I saw a huge carp run a buddy in to his backing and put him in water up to his shoulders as he chased it downstream and stepped off an underwater ledge. It was quite a sight and to my buddies credit, he still landed the fish despite the soaker he received. I also witnessed another pal slug it out with a buffalo on a Winston 4 weight (while fishing for whities) that would’ve made any dry fly purist cry like a girl while watching that poor little Winston flex to the power of what was to this day one of the biggest and ugliest fish I have ever seen landed on a 4 weight. I have a pic of that fish and once I get around to scanning it I plan to send it to the Winston rod company and chuckle while I imagine the horror in the eyes of the makers of such a fine rod. Lets face it, 4 weight Winstons should probably never be subjected to such a travesty.

Anyway, if I remember correctly, the first time I caught a cat I was fishing a clouser in a spot where I normally do pretty well with the smallies when I hooked something that was surely not what I had in mind. After a few minutes and a nice little fight I found myself faced with whiskers, lips, and spines. Shit. Now what? There I was without a net (nets are bad luck in my eyes) remembering the warnings from my dad from so many years ago when my brother and I used to fish with worms and bobbers for what ever would eat from the docks around my dad’s boat. My dad was pretty good with his fish ID’s and taught us what was “good eatin’” and what wasn’t. He also taught us about the spines of those fish with whiskers and how he would rather not have to deal with one or both of us getting stuck and being miserable for the rest of the weekend. Once the old man was comfortable with the fact that my bro and I had a pretty good idea what was what in the fish world he would turn us loose and we would catch all sorts of crap. We did catch some catfish and never got stuck thanks to those lessons. So there I was, a grown man, looking at that fish, cringing at the fact that I might get poked by one of those spines. I cut my leader and said sainara to my clouser and didn’t tie on another one for fear that I might hook another cat.

I made the mistake of telling the stories of the other cats I have caught on flies at campfires to my fly fishing buds while on trips to northern Michigan chasing trout on the Au Sable. I have caught cats up to 30″ and these guys had even found a spot where they could target them and catch them on a regular basis. I thought maybe we were on to something good. I even tried to convince myself and the others after listening to the above mentioned podcast about the merits of catching this “prized” fish. But still I am left with nothing more than the memories of a slimy leader and fears of being stuck by those 3 awful, infection carrying spines that taunt me every time I bring one to hand. I should have known that it was the years of pissing and moaning about those slimy critters and how much I hate them that likely spawned the idea that I needed a hat that advertised that I am somehow a fan of the species. Now, thanks to Mike (aka “Phyllus”), I now own a fucking catfish hat that I will surely have to wear every time I fish a warm water stream where they may be present. Thanks for that “pal”. Fly fishing buddies are the greatest. Really.

I just can’t get in to them. I’m sorry. I’d sooner have to give the tongue to a dozen carp caught from a Wal Mart retention pond than have to handle another catfish. That said, I will wear my new lid with pride every time I get on the local warm water streams in hopes that it will protect me from the horrors of leader snot and a trip to the ER for a tetanus shot. You guys can catch them all you want. I’ll pass if I can. Not like I actually have a choice in the matter. Unfortunately for me I live in a warm water region and the little pricks are gonna be there whether I like it or not. I’m sure I’ll catch dozens of them now.

Yeah, I know. Is this really necessary?

There is a SHITLOAD of info available in all sorts of media to get yourself educated on this sport/pastime/gay ass artsy activity. What ever you want to call it, it isn’t like its brand spankin’ new and if you’re at a loss to figure it out, there are ways to get a leg up on the clueless, get smart, and get the most from your next trip. Whatever the situation, a local stream or lake or a weekend excursion, there are no excuses for not knowing what to be prepared for. If you’re gonna do it, make the most of it for yourself and rely on your learned knowledge versus that of the person that took you to where you’re fishing for the day or weekend, or, if your lucky, the week. Chances are, that person that took you there wants to just go fishing just as bad as you and wants to do it without having to keep tabs on you. Sure, there are exceptions, first timers, etc… still… even the “noobs” should do thier homework. What are you going to do to prepare for that next outing?

Let’s start with the basics:

BOOKS and MAGAZINES.

What are you looking for? Its easy… Search for it. Find it. Buy it. Borrow it. Steal it. Just get it. Its that simple.

All it takes is a little forethought and a few pages before bedtime for a few weeks before you go that will help you get educated before that next trip. Are you gonna be an expert after a few books? Of course not. Don’t be an asshole and think that either. Trust me on that.

It should be no surprise that there are books that will cover just about every facet of this sport. Rivers, lakes, ponds, fresh water, salt water… Even if you have nothing planned, it never hurts to fill in the gaps between what you already know and what you would love to do in the future. Yeah reading about the basics, gear, rigging, etc… is pretty dry but at the very least you can go knowing what “tippet” is and how it is important that your leader has the balls to “turn over” your fly. Plus, the next time you are hanging around with your fishing pals that already know this shit you won’t be the guy or girl asking the dumb questions about what size tippet you should use with “X” fly in”Z” situation and/or if you should be fishing a floating, sinking, or intermediate line. Even if you already know the basics about rigging etc…  pick up a book about baitfish or entemology or one on what your target species is. Learning a bit about your quarry will pay off on the water as will knowledge on how to read the water your on. It will tell you a lot. You just have to know what you are looking for.

DVD/Video.

This option is better than it has ever been.  Even our library in Toledo, OH has videos and DVD’s on fly fishing (along with books). Sure, they’re not holding Hustle and Fish or any of the AEG films but they have DVD’s and videos you could learn from and they span a variety of water types (fresh or salt). If your library sucks and you need this form of media to learn then I would suggest you hit your local fly shop or Google.

The Interwebs…

Ahhh the Interwebs… Probably the best source of info you’ll ever find. Sorry print media but its true. I love print and I would never carry a laptop to the shitter. But you should know that while your reading this there are others watching You Tube vids on fly tying or fly casting and those folks will use what they learned to out fish you.

Probably the best gig on the interwebs is the USGS Real Time Water Data. Hands down the greatest cheat sheet for what your river is doing at the moment and the recent past. USGS gauges are the next best things to being there. The trick is to learn the patterns and log what you see at any given flow for clarity and fish-ability. For example, you were on such and such river and the visability was at just over a foot at 340cfs. You can usually find some info on fishing forums to help out with this too. Once you get this part down, you’ll be hard pressed to ever waste a drive to find that the river is blown or just still muddy from the last blown out. Super important tool for steelheading the Great Lakes. Its easy to figure out. Go to your state, click on the river you want to see and presto. You get the flow in cubic feet per second, the height (at the gauge), and sometimes temp and other neat stuff like amount of dissolved oxygen. Hardest part is finding the river you want because they aren’t labeled at first glance but if you put your mouse on one of the dots it should pop up the name of the river.

YOUTUBE:

Great source for casting tips, fly tying, fish porn… Obviously lots of stuff there.

Blogs:

Just like the one you are reading right now. There is a wide variety of them out there and most are not aimed at how too’s but if you took the time to comment and maybe ask a question you might actually learn something from these people. Just remember that the blogger’s home base is internationally anywhere so the knowledge base is huge. We like to get hits on our blogs so asking us a quick question is perfectly acceptable. We reserve the right to publicly “flame” you though if you ask something stupid.

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.

Suppose they allow spikes?

Not enough spare time to get all your hobbies in? How about mixing fly fishing with a little golf at Alaska’s Rainbow River Lodge’s excellent floating ball driving range, where the prevailing winds blow the balls back to shore! Don’t forget the awesome trout and sockeye fishing in the Copper River, which is just minutes away…

Original post from ‘Fishing with JD’  http://fishwithjd.com/2008/07/24/the-worlds-coolest-driving-range/

Enjoy some real choice lines here from the Vegan Muse:

“the usually violent removal of a sentient being from its catered oxygenated environment and the subsequent allowance of maximum pain via suffocation upon removal, what we call fishing”; “Ethicality is thus nonexistent when one engages in the act of fishing.”

“Fish protein clogs the arteries and is damaging to both kidneys and bone. “

Thanks for that Mr. Muse. Good thing I’m a C&R Guy.

I think this is my favorite.:

“Our waters have become our sewer systems and fish are now loaded with environmental contaminants. Even wild Alaskan salmon have detectable levels of mercury. Does this sound like a food intended for human beings to subsist on? I think not.”

Seriously now, who does this dipshit think he is? Who does he think the stewards of the watersheds are? Would you plant your garden in a toxic watse dump? I bet if you did your veggies would end up with detectable levels of what ever the hell was dumped there. Let me tell you this Mr. Douchebag, oh sorry, Mr. Muse. If it weren’t for the conservation minded fisherman, many of the rivers, lakes, and oceans of this planet would be in pretty sad shape and you’re a dick for judging any one of us.