Double Jeopardy

I've managed to fish quite a bit the last couple of weeks.  Last Tuesday I fished with Koz, stripping streamers for browns, to no avail.  Wednesday I went down to the Boyne river in search of steelhead but found nothing but moldy coho's.  I managed to snag a couple even when I was trying to avoid them, and landed one so nasty I didn't bother to take pictures.  As I mentioned in this weeks MMC, while everyone was scarfing turkey and fixings I was in the remote back country throwing streamers for brook trout.  It was a cold calm day, slightly overcast, and completely deserted.  I didn't catch any fish this day either, but had several fish hit, including one 12 inch plus brookie that blasted vertically out of the water after my fly.  I was happy just to see these fish, in a season when most people are thinking of anything but Monsieur Fontinalis.

I don't have to catch fish to enjoy fishing, but after awhile it's nice to bring something to hand.  We all try to pretend we don't care, almost as if actually catching a fish is beneath us.    That's how we display our maturity as angler's right?  We're all grown up now, and don't bother ourselves with catching; we've found an aesthetic in the simple act of participating, going, doing, practicing our craft- "that's why they call it fishing..."

We'll keep telling ourselves that.  My itch this fall has been to catch a fall steelhead.  I've caught tons of spring fish, but November steelhead have this vicious reputation as slashing, striking, fighting machines, a fish so testosterized you may not want to put your line in the water.  As a matter of fact, you should just stay home and watch Matlock.  It's too cold for you to be out there anyways.

But not me.  I want one of these fish.  It's not really that hard, but I don't have any of the major Michigan steelhead streams close to hand- a lot of my local rivers get marginal runs.  Still, if you know where to go, there's fish to be had.  I decided to quit screwing around and focus on steelhead.  Sunday I drove north to a small ditch which hardly qualifies as a river, but gets a decent run of fish.  In the first twenty minutes I hooked up on a good fish which quickly took me to the cleaners.  It had been a warm weekend, but a front blew threw Sunday, and a cold north wind pounded across Lake Michigan, the roar of the surf drowning out everything else, despite the distance.

Yesterday afternoon, I drove further north, and fished near the mouth of another river.  In just a few minutes I picked up this fish- a lake run brook trout.  She was spawned out and very skinny.  She practically had stretch marks.

I flogged this series of pools for another hour, and just as I was getting ready to leave- I had said this was my last cast- I hooked into this guy.

That's right- a juvenile steelhead.  It put up a decent fight, and I was extremely happy to be able to take his portrait.  Today I went back to the same spot, and landed this fish.

Does it look familiar?  My best guess is that it's the same fish- same hole, same size, suspiciously similar "scars".

One Pere Marquette River guide says that when you catch a rainbow, you won't catch it on the same fly the rest of the year.  Mind you, I was chucking egg patterns, and this one hit the same pattern two days in a row.  Maybe eggs are too irresistible.  So what do you think- same fish?  Have you ever caught the same fish twice?  Let me know what you think.

I was a little tired tonight, and left the river a little early.  On the way home, I was treated to this spectacular sunset, which I had to share with you- enjoy.

The Angler's Year- November

November sunset

It lies there on your calendar, like a dare you don't want to take.  November is a clear demarcation in the year.  Spring was refreshing, Summer glorious, and even September and October had their share of pleasantness, but November throws down the gauntlet- from here on out, if you're going to fish, you're going to suffer.  November can be your Rubicon, or your Waterloo.

Don't let those die-hard jerks fool you.  Sure there's lots of space age materials and clothing available these days.  Sure the equipment and waders, thermals, fleece and polymers are so much better today.  But let's face the facts- the cold season has begun, and here in Trout Country, the weather will typically be gloomy, rainy, cold, or snowy.  You may get some 50 degree days, but I wouldn't count on it, and before the month is over we'll have a skift of snow, if not a  foot already.  At some point if you're out there, you'll have to expose some skin to cold air and icy water. At some point, if you're going to fish in November, you'll have rain runneling off you or wet snow piling up on your shoulders.

So what are you going to do- fish, or hibernate?

November's distraction

November continues a trend here in Michigan, in that many anglers are also hunters, and so they set down their rods and pick up their shooting irons.  November 15 kicks off what may be our grandest outdoor tradition, as about 750,000 hunters embark on opening day of deer season, an orange clad army taking to the woods in hopes of taming the local deer infestation.  Me, I'm a bowhunter, though I usually try to take my rifle out and shoot coyotes.  November 15 is the one day of the year I will never fish here.  Never mind the risk of taking a stray bullet, you're likely to piss off some hunter who practically had to bribe his boss to get the day off so he could hunt down by the river for that giant swamp buck he saw cross the road in August, and now you're here, lanyard rattling and whistling Dixie, scaring his buck into the next county, all because you wanted to catch a couple 8 inch trout.  Yes the man is armed, and there's always the chance he was drinkin'.  No sir, it just don't make sense.  If I was you, I'd say November 15 is the one day to stay home if you don't hunt.  (You can insert your favorite country twang into those last two sentences.)


Here's your opportunities in November. There's steelhead, steelhead, and St. Steelhead.  Sure, go fish for browns if you like.  Yeah, I know, there's chrome coho's to be had late.  Or better still, kype jawed, red-flanked male coho, pissed off that you had the gall to swing a chartruese and white fly past their face.  But you're back to talking moldy fish here essentially.  If you catch a silver fish, I say keep it- it will be bright orange inside, and smoke up nicely, and the DNR will plant more.  But if what you want is a big angry silver-plated, whale-tailed fighting machine, then swing something to Madame Chrome, because November is the month of fall steel, and aside from the more famous Great Lakes tributaries, you're likely to have the river to yourself.

So here we are, at the brink of the cold season.  As Julius Caesar put it "alea iacta est (the die has been cast)".  It's time to wade in.