PB45 for Aunt Mary Joan

  Around 8 pm on June 14, 2024, the musky goes vertical, fully freeing itself from the water into an 80° day, yet the pink and white fly sticks like a tick in the right corner of it’s mouth. 

  Two nights beforehand, my guide and friend, MG, called and said lightning was still flashing, with more rain expected. I could hear frogs in the background. 

  I was told that it was my choice, but the conditions were still poor. Water was either going to be high and dirty (not good) or high and clear (worse). He was not optimistic- repeatedly saying it was a long way to go for one day of fishing, but he understood the itch…

 

 The morning of June 13th, the water stats had changed very little on the USGS site. Previously, my June 10th trip had been canceled due to higher water and illness in my family. I texted him. My only regret would be if I didn't go.

  MG sees the fish strike; I simply see the water erupt, but I definitely feel it hit. I give 2 hard strip sets, make myself relax and keep line tension. Musky moves right, rod goes left. Let line out but give no slack during the run, then strip the fish back in. It's suddenly, vertically, and completely out of the water. Wow- she's big! Thinking, Don't throw the hook! Keep calm. Listen to my friend - my guide, while he is also rowing the boat out of the current. Give her line on another run, strip her back, rod tip left, now hammer down on the tension!, rod tip lower to control that big head. Lift the rod tip up, head goes up (she's heavy!), and he slips the net under and then around her. She is netted and can now rest in calm water. 

  For a moment, we sit back in mutual relief and then our happiness comes rushing in. I'm a bit choked up. I said to MG that I'd hoped to catch a musky in honor of my aunt, who’d died earlier that week. She grew up when it wasn't common for women to fish and hike, and she’d wished she'd been “brave” like me. I'd been able to tell her that I loved her and didn't know anyone stronger than her. 

  When I briefly feel the heft of that glorious musky in my hands during the photos taken that will forever remind me of this day, I quickly look up to the sky, give thanks, and softly say, “In honor of you, Aunt Mary Joan!” 

  A mid-30s musky bested me earlier that day. The water was high and dirty with slim opportunity for a second chance, but we surely got it. Before releasing her, MG and I hold her in the water, confirming my new PB by taping the musky out at 45 inches!

  The musky is released. After a while, MG smokes a cigarette. We share a little tequila, reliving the excitement. We like it high and dirty here, somewhere north of Illinois. It's a fine and respectable way to have a threesome.

Living Well When Life isn't Always Easy

  When tomorrow's t-shirt weather is prefaced with last night's snow, and while I wait with diminishing hope of Canada allowing us to cross the border for the great late-May pike trip, I find yet another way to avoid starting my taxes.

Trout fishing.

   In reality, we planned to fish now. This weekend. My Duluth buddy and I (8 hours apart) were to more closely distantly meet, meaning a fist bump and not a hug, then him renting a room and I car camping instead of sharing the costs of a room, and go fly fishing together like we normally do for trout. It's always been social distancing there; frog hopping around each other hole after hole.

But, for the second weekend in a row Covid-19 and his work to set up employees to work from home, put the kabosh on that.

   And at a time when you think Covid-19 would be keeping All healthcare workers in a hospital busy, we are working hard to limit how many patients are in our hospitals. My therapy co-workers and I have health concerns while at work, yet ironically are getting called off of work more frequently than we'd like.

So, while I take extra time to wash my groceries, wash my hands longer, disinfect my hands after any trip in public, try to avoid touching my face...so much, I also take the extra time to visit the Iowa trout streams, hiking, wading, and fishing, to truly appreciate and enjoy a healthy if  unwanted day off of work.

Brule 22. Our PB & J

   In 2008 I hired a guide and fly fished for the first time, falling in love with fly fishing, doing something that's kept me humble, taken me on adventures, introduced me to so many nice people, and given me joy. My guide also became my mentor and a great friend.

   I re-hired him in June 2017 to repeat that Wisconsin Bois Brule River guided trip of June 2008. "Can you drift that dry under that overhanging Cedar?" Yes, now I can. "Keep doing it...Again." Bam! Then finesse a 22" brown trout, attempting to keep my excitement in check, so my guide, mentor, and friend Ouitdee of Arrowhead Fly Angler could hand-land OUR personal best Brule River native brown on that lovely river of presidents!

   PB&J. Personal Best & Joy.

The Last Cast: On the Fly for Pike in Canada

Luggage was packed floor to ceiling to knees and Scott's carry-on: coffee!

After watching a guy getting arrested at the Holiday gas station in International Falls, it finally hit me that vacation had begun! We charmed our way through customs at International Falls on May 18, enjoyed a Canadian favorite - butter tarts with ice cream - at a quirky restaurant outside Dryden, and finished up with a pretty, but sadly bear-free, 2-hour drive to Sioux Lookout where 8 of us would board the Sioux Falls Outposts' Otter plane the next morning for our 6-day Lake Miniss pike-fishing trip in Ontario, Canada.

This was supposed to be the third consecutive trip to Lake St. Joe, but a late ice out meant we switched to Miniss since its waters open a week earlier... otherwise we'd have had to cancel the trip.

Other than a very windy second day, the weather was great. Fish were still sluggish and slower to bite due to late ice out, but it got better as the days went on and as we learned this lake.

Ed was my same boat partner from 2 years ago. He powered the motor, and I did the anchor, rock-sighting, and navigation with the map (I did well for a self-titled Geographical Moron). He fished with fly and lure. He got one wally and the rest were pike. I used a 10wt fly rod to do my hunting.

Our trip organizer, John, cooked breakfasts and suppers (yum!). Final night was for ribs that were fantastic. We had a spontaneous walleye supper the first night and I really liked my first taste of walleye!!

I had one day when I only caught 1 pike, but there were gear and other issues. Otherwise, up to 6 pike/day for me, and I didn't let some hammer handles hook up. Slowish fishing, but enough while motoring around.

Up until the final afternoon, the biggest pike we boated measured 31-32", and I had caught no walleye. John had boated a larger pike while using a twister tail that was chomped while about 15' deep. He didn't measure it.

Scott and Ward had follows of 35"+ and 40"+ pike in a specific bay with current. No big-pike takes. Ed and I visited new water for us on the final day, and we did well and had fun. Then, we visited Scott/Ward in the bay of large pike follows. They'd had additional follows but were readying to leave. They recommended we motor to the "tutu tree" and try for where they had spotted the larger pike. We did. Ed had a decent 30"+ follow. I had nothing. I switched to a couple other flies, finally deciding between a chartreuse fly and a walleye-colored fly I'd tied specifically for the trip but had yet to fish. The fish had come most often to smaller flies (including a 3.5-inch 4-minute tie of a silver minnow pattern I'd used daily). But, I went with the larger walleye fly.

I made a few casts but knew Ed wanted to get going. We needed to pack to fly out the next AM. With Ed being the responsible person in our boat and nicknaming me "Last Cast Lisa," I made my last cast toward deeper water, gave the fly time to sink and stripped the line.

The 37-inch pike that wanted a walleye.

My fly stopped hard but with that subtle difference that tells you this is NOT a rock. I strip set hard once, twice, then stripped to bring the fish toward me while yelling twice to Ed to "Get the net!" The 2nd time I yelled was when the fish turned, I strip set hard the third time, and then I saw her. Eternally calm Ed exclaimed that wow I really did need the net. I don't usually want a green fish in the net, but we were looking at likely the largest fish of our group's trip, so after she turned, Ed netted her before she could get a good fight going. Of course, she was then very active in the net.

Ed tried a few times to measure her while I readied tools and got pictures of her in the net. She would thrash whenever he touched the tail, and this would botch the measurement.

The pike-slimed walleye fly.

She overpowered the jaw spreaders x 3 and, luckily, popped the snap (now in garbage) during the 3rd time, so I only had to deal with the de-barbed fly, not leader and fly line. The 4th time, spreaders stayed in place, and I freed the slimed walleye fly from inside her mouth.

Of course, we let her rest in the submerged net off and on while I also calmed down. I appreciated Ed's patience just as much as I appreciated this pike taking my fly. Managing a netted fish is not yet a huge strength of mine, but you have to do it to get better, and I did it.

Ed and John both have tooth-resistant gloves. I was able to use Ed's glove this trip for larger pike. After 2 efforts with the glove, she was secured, and I slowly lifted her into a classic hold that I was unable to manage two years ago during our first pike trip. My finger had been in a splint that trip. After boating the pike fondly christened "42," for pictures I could only hold that largest pike from our first trip in the net on my lap, and later hold her tail with my intact hand while helping her recover in the water. This year I got to manage the netted fish, pose nicely with her, then do a hand release while appreciating life's small accomplishments.

A beautifully-patterned 37-inch pike.

While I held her for pictures, Ed measured her again. We knew this pike wasn't 40 inches. She was 37".

Back at the cabin, Ed spread the good news. Our group was very pleased as was I. Jeff asked if I knew the Fishermen's Handshake. I said no. He said he hadn't used it on the trip because no one had gotten a fish large enough. We did the Fishermen's Handshake to honor the pike that came to the last cast. I gave kudos to Ed, Scott, and Ward, because without them, that fish would not have connected with my last cast.

It wasn't actually the last cast of the trip though. While packing after supper, I went to the porch to look for any missing gear and realized I had missed something more important than that. I took in a breath and smelled ... pike. At that moment I realized that I hadn't really taken the time to truly experience as fully as I could where I was. I smelled the air around me, went to the sandy beach to pick up a chair, and I plopped it on the edge of the dock.

I sat and enjoyed the evening sounds, the myriad of tree frogs, the birds, a couple fish splashes, eventually the wolves, and I looked at a bright half-moon. I realized I hadn't once looked for the light-pollution-free Canadian stars. I am almost embarrassed to write that.

But darkness comes late to the cabin and all of my Northern Midwestern friends go to bed early. Just what was I to do until it got dark? I remembered the fish splashes. I also remembered that the shore in front of the cabin isn't a hot spot for fishing but there were those splashes, and maybe night brings better fishing?

So, I went back to the cabin and unpacked headlamp, rod, reel, and a couple flies. I was targeting walleye.

I got a net from the fish cleaning house. My first walleye was foul-hooked. But during the hour, I netted 4 wallys, the largest 19 inches. I cheered them all (and they also wanted that crazily simple-to-tie minnow pattern!). I used the headlamp to see to remove the fly from each fish.

It was good to know I wouldn't leave Canada empty-handed of walleye. Afterward, I scanned the water with the headlamp on. Wow! What fun to see glowing walleye eyes moving around on the water bottom! Then, I saw small glowing eyes on the water's surface and what appeared to be wings. A swimming bat!? No, it was the water-pushing rear legs of a frog or toad. I kept my lamp on it, hoping it would not become a walleye or pike meal but wanting to watch if it should. The toad swam next to the dock and luckily, no splashes were heard, but I know they don't taste good.

The next morn we flew home, and I could keep my eyes open the entire time, unlike the bumpy flight in, where keeping my eyes closed and imagining fish being caught while singing "Thunderstruck" in my head kept the nausea away. Those Canadian lakes are also beautiful seen from the air.

It was a pleasure to spend another memorable pike-fishing trip with great people on beautiful water.
(Trip dates: 5/18-24/2018) Written 5/27-28/2018

Lisa, John, Scott, Ward, Jeff & sons Tom and John, and my patient boat partner Ed

Trip Photos

(Click on any picture to view it larger)

Vacation begins!!

Ready to cross the border.

Wishing we'd flown business class....

A distant view of the cut rock channel into a finger bay.

Ed on one of our plentiful pike days. 

Another water source to feed Lake Miniss.

At the mouth of a finger bay.

Even the pit stops offer beautiful views!

Cautiously motoring through the cut rock bank of a finger bay.

Beaver lodges are plentiful here. We saw one otter and one beaver.

Six of us motored to the Miniss River on the 2nd to last day of fishing.

The Miniss River.

Near the short walking trail to a little boat on another section of Lk Miniss.

A little boat and motor for anyone wanting to fish more water. Don't forget to put in the plug!

Shiprock Island

Pike can't resist a chartreuse fly!

Relaxing at the cabin before supper.

Ed and Scott at the dock. 

Ribfest! And who ate the most? Your's truly-- just to compliment the cook!

The Otter's arrival on Lake Miniss to fly us back to Sioux Lookout.

The view from Canadian skies as we leave all that fishing goodness.

HFFA 44th Annual Fly Fishing Show -- March 2018 -- Bettendorf, Iowa

The Small Smallies-Rocks-Chubs-Forgotten Birthday-Mean Friend, Fun Float Weekend

   We got in the first smb float trip of the year, and it was on my birthday!!  My friend, Dan, and I planned the float, and he didn't learn it was birthday Saturday until we were finishing our supper that evening at the air-conditioned restaurant (sitting there in all of our 91* stinky, exhausted glory). My 3rd partner in fly fishing fun, Jeff, was alerted of this 51st annual day of celebration (and I've spent all of them on the water since 2008 when I first started fly fishing) through Facebook and shared this factoid with Dan, who thought it was later in the month. Dan was disappointed because he didn't have my dirty birthday card with him, but I got a free meal plus tiramisu, so my life was good. Life briefly got bad when Jeff posted a picture of me eating tiramisu. I had just told him I frequently don't take good pictures just as he was taking a picture of me. I saw the picture and told Jeff he was mean. I did all I could to banish the pic from Facebook via my phone: untagging it, deleting notifications for it, and restricting Jeff as my friend on Facebook(temporarily). It wasn't a bad picture. It was just horrendous. I looked older than my 51 years, and it looked like I'd lived some hard years with nasty bad drugs and lots and lots of alcohol.  No one "liked" the picture, so I only hope that means they didn't see it...
*Pictures from our trip are posted at the bottom of the page, but not the one of the tiramisu-eating-incident. Click on picture to enlarge it.

  Musky remain my first love to hunt and hook on the fly. BUT, smb floats on small rivers (some would laugh and say they are streams) in our little pontoons and kickboats are my favorite way to fish. And, smallies will probably rank, someday, as my favorite fish to fight on the fly. Currently, they hold the #2 slot. Why do I love these floats? The rivers (or streams) are usually beautiful, we are targeting the ever-feisty smb, sometimes we end up with trout and other species, solitude --some lil rivers don't have many aluminum hatches, and it is great to fin with the feet OR walk the boat like it's a wheelchair while casting and keeping cooler with legs mostly in the water.

   I debated sharing the river's name. It's in Iowa. Sometimes you can find trout in it. We didn't on Saturday. That's about all you're going to get. Why? Greedy? Maybe a little. BUT, small rivers don't handle much fishing pressure. And, while we caught a respectable amount of fish, the smb were small. I caught 2-13 inchers and 2-11s, and the rest were smaller than that. Of course I missed many fish but landed 18 rock bass, 17 smb, and 16 creek chubs. I think my friends had similar results, but a couple 16" smb might have been slid into the net. I think we want to try other waters or just go downstream and see if that is where the bigger boys and girls hang out.  I only saw a group of 4 kayakers during the entire 830-615pm trip. 

   So, if you get a chance, do some exploring on your local waterways.  Consider practicing catch and release so we can all enjoy catching more or bigger fish (and pinch your barbs too, to lessen fish mortality!). If you take a fish, eat the fish and don't waste it. Take time to pick up a bit of trash you might find along the way and please don't litter.  Yes, dropping your tag ends in the water is littering. Leaving strike indicators at the parking lot is littering.  Smile and give a hello to other anglers.  Be courteous on the waterway and don't crowd others.  Think your dirty thoughts if someone crowds you, but don't push em in, and give them the benefit of the doubt... maybe they weren't taught good fishing manners like you and your friends were. Also, stay hydrated or you will end up like I've ended up... yelling in pain off and on for hours in the suv while tent camping after a day of fishing. Dehydration leads to the nastiest leg muscle cramps!!!! It could also lead to embarrassment if someone takes a walk on a path and finds you hanging out of your suv after passing out (or falling asleep, one might argue!) from pain. Luckily, last year I woke up before I was spotted! I remained well-hydrated this weekend.

I hope you enjoy the pictures. 

Toons and tents

Limestone bluff. Not as many fish here, but it sure is pretty!

Smb bed

Jeff rows out of the bluff.

Leaving the limestone bluff and entering the first large pool

After a lack of sleep due to the partying drunkards tenting next to us, we got up early and drove a while to two trout streams. Dan caught browns and bows at Richmond Springs.