THE CALM BEFORE THE BITE ~ The WI-MN Diaries (Part 3, Sept 3-4, 2011)

 IN PURSUIT OF MIDWESTERN MUSKY   

   Prime Musky season is quickly approaching.  The sun is warm but the wind is crisp and delightful.  The green of the trees and weeds are just past their prime.  The grass no longer grows at a lawnmower-burn-out pace.  Fall is nearly here & two nights past, I dreamt of Musky follows. 

   In honor of Labor Day weekend, a good buddy and I worked-out our casting arms with 10wts on Wisconsin’s Flambeau and Chippewa Rivers.  On Saturday, we’d planned the Flambeau float with a mid-afternoon stoppage for meals and rest.  Then, back to Musky water before dusk, to allow our eyes & other senses to adjust to the waning light, while continuing to fly fish into the night.  However, too little discipline (or too much passion) birthed 12-hours of casting and rowing, accompanied by fatigue and empty bellies.  Soon it was 830pm, darkening, with a waning moon and only one small light to guide our casting, rowing, fly changing… potential fish landing.  Dang!  Our fun and earnest hunt for the apex predator kept us from realistically and smartly exploring these creatures’ night-time habits.  We headed back to camp after loading the pontoon on the trailer.  I truly hope for another post-afternoon opportunity.  24-hrs on the fly/night fishing for Musky is on my bucket list, for good or bad, sane or crazy reasons. 

   Did I mention my buddy landed a Musky?  It was small enough that he didn’t want a photo to commemorate his first WI Musky on the fly.  However, I noted he sat back in the pontoon with a satisfied look about himself and his primary focus then appeared to be setting me up on good Musky water.  Now that’s a mighty fine friend.  He also fished successfully with an 8wt landing Smallies.  I kept to the 10wt and ended up dry, as far as Muskies go.

   Sunday greeted us with rain and a late start.   Throughout the day, the skies would cloud over and it would rain.  Then, after an indeterminate amount of time wearing hood-covered hats, we’d look up from our fishing and note the skies were blue yet again.  Hoods on, hoods off.  We’d also broken out the waders; another sure sign fall was on the way.  All in all, however, it was a lovely day. 

   No Muskies landed on Sunday.  However, at the start of the float, in deep, fast water I had a ~40” Musky follow my fly.  Figure 8 but no take.  Yet, the line was shooting out beautifully, the fly was hitting the targets, & I had a follow.  I was stoked!  The only fish landed Sunday on the Chippewa was a Smallie on a Musky fly.  We tried a variety of flies, but the Musky, the Musky follow, and the little Smallie with a Musky appetite all came on the ‘Supercharger’.  This fly is a Jared Ehlers creation; a quick tie which presents with a large profile and excellent action in the water along with a nice ease of casting.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JN8G64gHU4c .  The photo shown is a Supercharger but with an added orange marabou collar.

   The weather patterns varied throughout the weekend so how did that really affect the fishing?  After our final day of Musky hunting, we stopped in at Wannigan’s in the town of Winter for broasted chicken.  Greg, the owner whose business is next to a popular take-out spot on the Chip, told us that the fishing seemed to have been slow this year, attributing it to the hot summer temps.  So I’ve been wondering, what has Midwestern Musky fishing really been like this year; a typical year, slower than usual, or ???  And, will this year's spring and summer weather have any effect on the upcoming Fall Bite?

   I’ve decided to take these questions to the folks who have been fishing for Musky as much as I wish I could.  I’ve e-mailed Midwestern Musky guides, and also fly shop owners who cater to those who crave the pursuit of toothy critters.  Of course, the hope is for a good response.  (UPDATE:  The Fall Preview post, including the anglers' responses, is posted on my general posting (or Home) page. It will remain there until the end of November.  After that time, I will move it to the 'Featured Article' page. -Thanks, Twitch. 9/22/11)

   As for my predictions:  I believe the Musky Bite was slow this season & that their prey did not flourish due to the same suboptimal weather conditions.  If so, the Musky were able to feed adequately, but their typical body mass for this time of year is on the low side of normal.  With that in mind, Esox will have enough stored energy to aggressively pursue their forage base and will do so.  They will instinctively understanding the need to play catch-up in order to have the stored energy reserves available to survive the winter and be ready to spawn in spring.  To get to the point, I predict the Musky will behave like dogs left alone in meat markets and the fly angler will simply need to locate those markets.

The Nam: Friends, Fishing, Fun, and Ticks ~ The WI-MN Diaries - (Part 2, 5/2011)

    We debated:  fish smallies on Chequamegon Bay & camp on the boat, or float/camp the Nam for trout?  No bad choices here, but ultimately the weather decided.   Too much wind for the bay.  Namekagon-bound!

After a night of suv-camping, I hurried off to Hayward.    Aah, a sense of the ‘warm fuzzies’ came over me as I fell in behind the canoe strapped to the familiar old Yota.  That Yota took me on my first fly fishing adventure in 2008. 

   We pulled in at the gas station, OC and I said our hellos & we eventually headed out.  Eagle’s Landing first, then we unloaded the canoe and all of our supplies at Thompson Bridge.  This trip was sort-of a mini dry-run for our upcoming BWCA canoe/fishing trip, minus 2 days.  Surprisingly, we were cramming a lot of stuff into the canoe, but when portaging the Boundary Waters in June we’d need to scale back or be miserable.   I wondered, ‘How would that affect the beer situation?’

   Anyway, we hit the water around 11AM on Friday the 13^th.  Temps were in the low 50’s and there was an intermittent stiff wind to accompany the light gray day.  The few occasions the sun appeared, it was blessedly warm & wickedly short-lived.  We shared the paddles, with OC providing tips on how to improve my canoe skills.

   Of course the day was to be filled with fly fishing but there was a target in mind.  Big nymphs with droppers, & big buggers were the main entrees.  We were targeting Big Brown Trout.  Early on, I landed a 13” Brown.  I like to think it fought ‘big’.

   During our own lunch break we banked the canoe near a bridge with a small rock dam.  I ate and looked for mushrooms.  OC started wading and fishing, then disappeared.   I heard him yell.  He had a good-sized fish on.  At that point, I had other fish to fry.  I knew my buddy had intended that I solo paddle the gear-laden canoe across the current, avoiding the little dam & rocky rapids, swing under the far side of the bridge, then head downriver.  I was feeling that the only ‘buggers’ weren’t in the fly boxes!  I was alone with no mistakes to be made.

   I ignored my friend’s yells and pondered.  I got in the water, grabbed the rear of the canoe and began wading upriver, relieved that the soft riverbed was firm enough to hold me.  About 35 yards upriver, I was in better position to safely paddle to the opposite side of the bridge.  I remained tense, however, as I paddled under the bridge, seeing and hearing the rough patches of water on my left side. 

   Perhaps my buddy was, so to speak, starting to ‘push the baby bird out of its nest’.  However, this chick was a bit miffed.   After all, the nest was holding all of our camping/fishing gear.  I let him know I was irritated but told him I didn’t know how much, as that was directly proportional to how tricky paddling the canoe directly across the current would’ve been &  I didn’t have a clue.

   At least irked to not care(very much) when he said the 22”er he’d had on broke off at the knot I’d tied, I simply asked him why those knots only seem to break when he had fish on my rod?  However, soon after, it bothered me.  I felt I’d tied a good knot & I’d checked it.  The only black and orange Guinea Bugger I’d tied was gone with the fish, too.  I’d had a good feeling about that fly.  Later, OC lost 2 more fish and one was at his knot.  The leader was replaced. 

   We landed a few fish & lost a few that day.  Come evening, I’d tied on a chartreuse/olive marabou concoction which, when I’d tied it, was told it was a good Steelhead fly.  The fishing was down, might as well experiment.  OC and I alternated rods, typically having one nymph rig set-up and one tied with a streamer pattern.  OC hooked into a fish with the marabou concoction.  He landed the bronze 11”er; his first Brookie on the Nam!

   We politely slid the canoe around holes where other anglers were wading.  At one hole, the man’s unsmiling face alone confirmed that the fishing was down.  Then I saw a flash downriver of our canoe with the man soon setting the hook upriver of our canoe.  We slipped away and cheered him on!  It was his first fish of the day.    

   We’d intended to set up camp at 4PM and arrived on time somewhere after 630.  OC had hoped for the rare occasion to cook up some trout (he’d read a book about an 1800’s Brule River guide frying the catch in bacon grease) and I’d hoped to treat my friend to his first-ever morels.  The fish weren’t legal and the discovered 'brain mushrooms' could’ve been lethal.  So, hopes put on hold, we had more time at camp to light a smoky campfire and free winged insects from an over-winter in a lidded, open-air vault toilet.  Due to tick concerns, we kept our waders on as long as possible.  I’d also worn my fleece wading pants, socks over the stirrups, for the whole trip except when I carefully dropped them for, you know….  At least the view from ‘the vault’ was pretty in that gold n green pine tree hue sort of way(yes, there is a point to this latter part of the story!).

   Later, I cooked up a BWCA menu test recipe:  chicken with cranberry stuffing.  It would do.  OC fried bacon and we ate our fill while dodging the smoke from the camp fire(it was still windy).   I hit the tent first.  He soon followed &, having forgotten cards, we played the kid’s game, ‘Connect the Dots’.  OC played it like he fishes; better than me.  However, on a fluke, I won.  That just emphasizes the moral to my story of life:  Never give up.  I guess that is why I am typically the last off the water. 

   We woke early the next AM to wind, cold and rain, & more deer ticks on the mosquito netting.  Luckily, no ticks were in the tent.  I got coffee brewing under the tent vestibule.  With coffee to warm us, I went off to ‘enjoy’ the view under the pines and OC got breakfast started.  He ate most of the half crispy/half limp bacon slices.  I pulled off a few stray crispy pieces.  Then, he threw the eggs in the bacon pan.  Wow!  Note to self:  I fry the bacon on the BWCA trip but I beg OC to scramble the eggs.  They were the best I’ve ever eaten.

   Mid-morning we packed up camp and climbed in the canoe.  15mph winds easily.  Brrrrr!  And why is it so hard to find clear, polarized glasses?  They would’ve been ideal for this gray day.  I landed an 11” Brown and OC landed more, of course.  He also landed a 23” Redhorse.  Later, I switched to a smaller, size 10, bugger and got more hits.  Due to the weather, I happily thought we’d have more of the river to ourselves.  But it was also a Saturday and I was wrong.  I found myself equally happy to share the water with anglers who also thought casting with 20 mph gusts in chilly temps was still a pleasurable way to spend a day.     

   Soon, it was after 7PM and it was getting a bit late to set up another camp without rushing ( mmmm… pizza and beer).   So, we split the reasonable rate at The Riverside in Hayward.  While OC went to the grocery store to prepare for his next day’s guide trip and to also pick up our pizza, I took advantage of some privacy and a warm shower. 

   Dangit!  Small & wiggly sore spot on butt!!  Attached.  So much for a relaxing shower.  My buddy returned with a hot pizza and I exited the bathroom strategically draped and embarrassed.  Yep, it was a deer tick.  While my embarrassment lessened but never entirely went way, what I believe he considered to be a minor inconvenience turned into his intriguing dissection.  Two breaks, one his own tick-check(1 wood tick, unattached) and the other, a luke-warm pizza break; tweezers, a safety pin,  and, finally, ice to numb the area so he could dig out the last stubborn remains, and the tick was gone.   

   What a long day!  The next morning, OC headed out early to meet his client.  I grabbed breakfast and changed my mind repeatedly on where to fish.  I always say that heaven is just north of IL & it’s Wisconsin.  But, in the evening when one is on a 7 hour drive home, deer run onto the road and one gains insight and, last year, large dents.  Deer would not run onto the road willy-nilly in heaven.  They would politely wait their turn to cross the road.  My point?  Wisconsin is not heaven, just similar.  Therefore, I wanted to fish somewhere quickly so I could get back to IL prior to nightfall to lessen the chance of WI deer attacks on my CRV. 

  So, I headed south on Rt. 63 toward home.  The Nam isn’t known for trout in this section, but remember my motto?  Never give up!  I went to Groat Landing, hiked a trail, found a hole and fished.  Waded more, saw a guy and gal dump their canoe in the river, watched a hatch and knew I would not catch any trout at this place.  With the hatch on my mind, I decided to return to my suv and drive back through Hayward to prime trout waters.  New motto: Never give up, but be smart about it.  Let’s just say I had a couple of hits, & it was sunny but still very windy.  No delicate presentations today.  Also, while I’d gone to prime trout water, I didn’t find a prime trout hole.  Time and travelling by wading boot limited my options.  So, as usual, I left the water late, around 3PM, driving a portion of the trip in the dark, but I was out of Wisconsin by then.

   Today, I’m on day 13/14 of antibiotics.  Lyme disease prevention.  I did not want to take the chance of acquiring Lyme and missing our BWCA(Boundary Waters) trip in June.  I hear the open-air vault toilets are erected in even prettier settings there, so, no reading material needed. However, I won't forget the TP and DEET.     

 

  

The WI-MN Diaries  - Part 1, Sept. 25-27, 2010

   Kate and I load up the CRV as quickly as we can.  I'd just finished a long day at work and we knew there was a long night in front of us.  We head out from Moline, IL., by 6:30 pm.  We are Hayward-bound.  We hope we are musky-bound, too.      

Day 1:  For the love of fly fishing and the Northwoods, Kate and I reluctantly get up early after the previous night's 7 hour drive to Hayward.  A breakfast stop at the Spider Lake Cafe nets me the pleasure of visiting with MCO musky guide Brad Bohen and introducing him to Jackfish Kate.  Brad tells us the guides and a film crew are taking it to the water today.  We discuss how the current high water-levels may affect all of our fishing.  After breakfast, Bob, owner of the Spider Lake Motel, kindly provides Kate and me with a map marked with areas to fish.  Today, we hope to explore as much water as possible.  The 'real' fishing begins tomorrow.

   Next, we head off to the urban, clear-water, sand-bottomed Round Lake.  It's purported to have musky and trophy-size smallies.  We split up and wade waist and chest-high, casting in the clear water.  No fish today.  Walking back along the shore, I scan for unusual rocks, but end up with a rubber salamander(it now rides on the dash of my CRV).  I also leave with a wet leg.  My waders have sprung a leak.  Oh well, whaddya do?  We get back in the suv and keep exploring. 

   We are boat-less and the water is far from optimal.  Yet, if it's possible to shore-fish, we wet a line.  As with anything in life:  If you don't try, it definitely won't happen.  At the swollen Teal River Boat Access, I cast solo while Kate briefly checks out the water upstream.  We again run into Brad and the boys, checking out the water conditions.  They are shocked (& I'm amused) when I tell them I've landed 3 musky here.  Of course, I quickly admit the truth!  I feel a bit foolish being 'caught' shore-fishing this water, but I tend to walk my own crazy path.

   Lastly, Jackfish and I shore-fish along the Chippewa and then head for Don's cabin.  Good company and home-made pizza await us.  Along a 1/4 mile stretch of road, we spot turkey, a large black bear, and elk.  Kate, who regularly fishes in Canada, says it's the largest black bear she's ever seen.  Nice way to finish the day!
   That night, our musky guide, Don Larson (the Pondmonster), provides tips on proper musky leader construction, including the wire bite guard.  Kate is also 'pro-wire' and her 9wt gets a new leader.  My opinion remains open, but I stick with my Seaguar fluoro.  We discuss our fly selection for the next day, and get to sleep early.

Day2:  Don treats us to coffee and home-made blueberry pancakes, and we then head out for our full-day float on the Chippewa.  A mist rises from the water on this beautiful morning and by 9:30 we're in the drift boat.  Within 5 minutes, Kate has a fish on!  I have the camera, Don has the net, but (dang!) the musky unhooks itself at the boat.  Kate is using one of Don's flies.  It has good action and rides 'hook up', proving itself to be weed-free.  I enjoy casting my flies to the weeds' edges, but must frequently remove weeds from the hook, greatly reducing my opps of engaging a musky in battle.  I will be tying some flies differently in the future.

   It's a beautiful day on the Chippewa.  Trees paint the shoreline in green, red and yellow.  A few trees appear dead, but Don tells us these are 'Black Locusts', the last trees to dress and the first to undress.  We have a quick lunch on the boat and get back to fishing.

   While Kate has fly fished longer than I, this is her first time fishing for musky and the first she has been in a drift boat.  She taught herself to double-haul the week prior to this trip (impressive!) and today she is learning where and when to cast when 2 anglers are fishing in a smaller boat.  I occasionally duck, hold my cast, or smile; remembering when I learned these same lessons last year.  In February, when I was confined to crutches and a cast, Kate was one of a few friends who helped me continue to fly fish.  I'm very happy she's come on this trip.

  "I got one!", I yell.  The fish leaps from the water and puts on a good show.  Soon, a frisky little musky with a toothy, over-sized mouth is netted.  I liken it to a large-pawed puppy - minus the cuddle-factor.  Pics are taken and the fish is released. 
   Kate briefly hooks another fish, and then, I later miss a strike.  Too soon, our day-long float is over.  However, I'm so hungry even I think our flies are looking good enough to eat.  Don is soon out of the boat, towing us up the creek where we drop anchor for the day.  Kate and I are grateful for our guide's hospitality and knowledge of the water.  However, we are thrilled when he invites us to fish the next day!  I believe the water-level is stabilizing and quietly think 'the bite will be on' tomorrow...
Day 3... starts with another home-made breakfast.  Today, a light wind is blowing.  We head down the creek and back to the Chippewa.  Soon, our flies take to the air and water.  We have only 1/2 day to fish, so no time is wasted.  The wind keeps me on edge as, a couple of times, I hear my fly whiz past my ear, much closer to my head than I prefer.  I initially avoid casting up the middle of the boat, but eventually adapt.  Kate seems to have found her groove. 

  "Bite me!" and "Eat it!", I say, as I try to impart these feelings to the action of the fly.  Today, we are all more relaxed and loose, therefore more alert and ready to set a hook.  Also, 9, 10, &12 wts will paint the water and Don will allow himself a little fly fishing.  It's a great day! 
   After a little 'strip-n-twitch' action, I retrieve my fly and say to Don, "Rub this fly and give me a little luck!"  Don decides he can do a little better than that, opens his cooler and produces a cold can of Leinenkugal.  Our flies are all christened with Leinie's Au jus and we get back to casting.  Don ensures that the rest of a good WI beer does not go to waste.
   "Fish on!!", I yell.  This musky is larger than yesterday's and likes its acrobatics.  It takes a little longer to fight, and the pleasure is all mine.  Then, I see another boil and yell to Kate.  She sheds her camera for her 9wt, but there will be no doubles this day.  With the help of my friends, I boat a respectable 35" musky, pics are taken, the victory Musky Dance is completed, and the fish is released...never so annoyed as to be so popular.

   And that is how our day continues to progress.  We sauce the flies another time, Kate has a fish on, and I boat 2 more leaping, tail-wagging Esox under 34 inches.  The fish seem to like my fly, a modified 'Hang Time' pattern, so I never switch it.  However, after the first fish, Don politely suggests I check my bite guard.  Frayed!  Lesson learned.  Always check the leader after any strike.

   Near the end of our short day, Don gives the oars to me and he unleashes his 12wt.  In the meantime, he also suggests that Kate try my fly.  She picks up my 10wt & begins to cast.

   Soon, STRIKE!  Jackfish is visibly excited but remains cool. I, on the other hand, want her to land her first musky so badly, I'm barking out, "Set the hook hard! Keep the line tight! Let out some line!"  Jeesh, a slap may have been in order but her hands were full.  She lands it!!  Don nets it and we take pictures of Jackfish Kate proudly posing with her first musky.  That, readers, is an ideal ending to a Northwoods Fly Fishing Trip.

(Thanks Pondmonster!) ~Twitch.