Dispatches From Nipigon- Monday August 22

Good morning Nipigon!  The coffee pictured is yesterdays, brewed at Rabbit Blanket Lake, in Lake Superior Provincial Park.  Live blogging is almost impossible here, unless I wanted to sit around some crappy truck stop here, which I don’t.  We got a late start Saturday- thankfully the boat was good enough to break down before we left instead of while we we’re ten miles into the canyon here.  The canyon is 300-400 feet deep, the river powerful, and not the place to lose your motor.  The revised plan is to explore all the accesses to the river we can find for walk and wade opportunities, which, while limited, are said to exist.  We have the kayaks and will explore some Stillwater sections, hopefully being able to paddle out to islands or reefs, or to access different shoreline structures and get out and cast.  Then we’ll locate a local boat to rent for a couple of days to hit more inaccessible areas of the river. 

We stopped in Wawa for breakfast yesterday, as thunder had preempted a campfire breakfast.  We drove through the lightening and rain, on through the spruce and granite, past muskeg sloughs and small lakes.  I wanted to stop and cast at every little creek we passed, but one word beckoned us onward- Nipigon. So onward past Obatanga, White River, the gold mines, Pukaskwa, Marathon, Terrace Bay.  Past the campy signs to small cottage resorts.  “Very, very clean” boasts one sign for a motel near White River.  White River itself spuriously claims to be the home of Winnie the Pooh- an odd claim for for a character created by an Englishman.  If Winnie the Pooh were truly from White River, his playground would have been called the “Million Acre Wood”.

Lake Superior near Neys Park

We found a lovely place to camp on Lake Jessie, part of the Nipigon system, then fished below Alexander’s dam.  With the passing of yesterday’s front, the fish seemed to be pretty well shut down.  Everyone complained that the fishing was dead.  Here’s hoping.  It’s a large, somewhat intimidating system, lots of current and big water, and without a boat this will be a challenge, but we got some good intel on places to kayak into, so we’ll give it a go, and there’s some other rivers that are worth looking into.  There were fish rising all over the lake this morning, including right in front of camp, and I had one decent fish hit a mouse pattern, a very exciting development.  There’s too much to tell, so I’m going to end it here.  Enjoy the couple of pictures, I’ll try to get some fish in them and post later this week.

Sunrise on Jessie Lake

Nipi-Gone!

It's done, almost.  Don't ever travel with me.  I'm a horrible procrastinator.  In my defense, the long days at work have continued, and I've barely had time to make dinner at night, much less pack.  My brother is in the same boat- too much work.  Speaking of boats, I'm here writing this right now because he's putting the finishing touches on the used boat he just bought for the trip.  This already has the makings of a road trip adventure.  What a conundrum.

I have five rods, 6 reels, most of my fly tying gear, and enough other crap to lay siege to northern Canada.  In some ways this feels right- a road trip done seat-of-the-pants, gear hastily assembled, an untried boat, and we couldn't get the base camp tent out of storage.   Something is bound to happen to make this trip interesting- the seeds are sown.  But it's things like that that keep it interesting, test your mettle, your perseverance, your improvisational skills.  If I wanted a safe and predictable trip I would have gone to some lodge and hired guides.  I don't want that, I want an adventure.  I want the Suburban to get a flat or start making weird sounds, drip brightly colored fluids.  I don't want to know where I'm sleeping tonight, or for the rest of the week.  I don't want to plan more than a day ahead where I'm fishing.  I want spontaneity, adventure, hardship.  I want grit and ash in my burned food.  I want some time to write.

Mind you, death or injury aren't the goal at all- I packed my PFD, and a first aid kit (first aid kit consists of hockey tape and ibuprofen).  I'm not going to take any unnecessary risks.  But I don't want a pre-packaged, padded room, safe, guaranteed-to-catch-a-fish-or-my-money-back trip.  I want to go and explore, choose my own adventure, take care of myself, and my brother, and have fun.

So I'm off soon, I think.  I'll be back next weekend, I think.  If all goes well, I'll have pictures of fish to share.  No matter what I'll have stories.  If I can find wi-fi I'll even try to squeeze some teaser posts in.  Judging by the lack of live-blogging success others have had recently, I wouldn't bet on it.

So that's it- I'm off to Nipigon, in search of giant brook trout.  Or maybe just in search.

GONE FISHING!

The Anglers Year- August

July fooled you, you thought it was going to last forever.  August continues the ruse, for a week.  Then it dawns on you- it's August.  What have I been doing?  I had so many plans.  Rivers to fish and paddle, new lakes to try out, camping and hiking trips, or even the great American Road Trip.  But somehow the work, and the graduation parties for kids you hardly know, the weddings of friends you fear for, and a couple of family barbecues have sidetracked you, and now it's August.


So you panic.  You go back over your list of must-do's and prioritize.  You haven't gone on that kayak trip, or driven to that distant river, you haven't fished for a new species.  You set some new priorities- to eat a s'more, to go to the beach, to go to an ice cream stand at dusk, to sleep outside in the yard and watch the meteors. To eat a hot dog you've roasted on a stick.  Because August, with all it's subtle charm, is telling you something.  It says that all good things must end, that this impossible dream that is summer is mortal, that the light and heat and balm can't continue, that frost will return.  You will be cold soon.

Change does indeed occur in August.  First it's the little things- You notice all the Queen Anne's Lace in bloom along the roadside.  You notice that the corn in the store is local.  Then you notice all the "corn for sale" signs along the roadside, lettered in hand-written scrawl.

About ten days in you see it, stark, grim, beautiful- that first harbinger.  A limb of scarlet leaves, saying "it's not forever". That this whole world of green and blue and warm won't last.  The frost is coming.  You try to ignore it, you go to the beach, you pick a summer novel to read, you start wearing different clothes, clothes that say summer (desperate). That first front just blew through, here in Trout Country, and you're forced to acknowledge it, to wear a sweatshirt in the morning.  August is the month of subtle change.  The air, the grass, is sallow, they take on a barely perceptible patina.  The clouds change, and you realize that somewhere up there in the atmosphere, there is snow.  I love August, for it reminds me of all that is precious in life- green, blue, the brevity of life and the preciousness of loving something, even if it's just a chocolate swirl single soft-serve cone, the laughter of children as they play in the surf, good conversation with a friend on the front porch, in the dark, reflecting on your lives.  The geese are doing test flights, teaching this years brood how to fly in formation.  Young robins, spotted and awkward, hop around the yard learning to forage.  The hummingbirds get aggressive, for soon they must make one of the most astounding migrations on earth.  They always leave my house on September 9 and I mourn just a little.

Oh, right, this is a fly fishing blog.  I never stop.  Hoppers are hot.  The night game continues.  But there is a tension to August, as if something is about to tear loose.  The water is low, the water temp is high and you wait for something to break.  There are several things I do in August.  I hopper fish, usually on the Manistee.  I troll for salmon on Lake Michigan- I make this killer salmon jerky that is to die for, and it's worth laying down my fly rods to experience the big water.  I try something or go someplace new. I try to savor this flavor that is August, an ice cream combo that is both Blue Moon and Superman, Tres Leches and French Vanilla.  August is a warning, but not serious, a slap on your wrist.  Those big browns and chinook salmon are moving in, and the steelhead aren't far behind.  Is your gear ready? Got Streamers? Can you strip-set?

August- I roll that word around in my head, and it reeks of old, age, wise, and yet I can't shake this feeling of it being youth revealed for it's fraudulence, a temporary stop in our migration, that the things we learn here will continue with us when the leaves are gone, and the bite get's tough, and we look back to this day when all was pleasant, when the riparian flowers were in full splendor, and you could streamer fish in water shoes and a T-shirt.  If you understand that line you're a fly angler.

So join me- let's celebrate this August.  Go to the beach, take a trip, learn to double-haul.  Eat a soft-serve chocolate twist ice cream cone.  Make it a double.  Go on, enjoy August.  It is fully as brief as the other months.

The Run-Up to Nipigon- Gear

My big trip to Nipigon Ontario, in search of giant brook trout (Salvelinus fontinalis) is fast approaching. We leave August 20.  I've had several gear needs develop over the last weeks and months, as well as some wants.

Last fall I bought some Frogg Toggs waders for $100, then immediately put 30 miles of dry hiking on them and generally thrashed them ever since.  I also bought $60 wading boots at the same time that left a lot to be desired.  The side walls started blowing out a couple of weeks ago, and I know they're not long for this world. The waders have leaked since May.
So, when I got rained out of work today, I made my way down to The Northern Angler fly shop in Traverse City to get some gear.  I'll have to admit that I almost ordered stuff online, but thought better of it.  For one thing, I would have been just guessing at the sizing, and spending that much money on stuff I hadn't tried on made me nervous.  I also like to support local businesses whenever I can, and I love what Brian Pitser is doing at TNA.

First the boots- the side walls on my current cheap pair started blowing out a couple of weeks ago, and have proceeded to decline at a rapid pace.  My buddy Tim got a pair of Korkers with the aircraft cable lacing system and swears by them.  I ended up getting the Simms RiverTek BOA boots with the Vibram sole.  I've heard a lot of back and forth about felt versus the Vibram sole, especially now that Simms has decided to bring felt back into the fold, but several of my friends swear by the Vibram and so I took a leap of faith.  I love the BOA lacing system, and the support in this boot feels amazing.

Then, the waders- I've been fighting this leak in my Frogg Toggs since early spring.  I think for the price they were excellent waders, but not up to the abuse I put them through.  I fish way too much, and bushwhack way too much.  I was interested in a set of Redington Sonic Pro waders, but they didn't have them in my size.  These Simms Freestone stockingfoots are very popular, and I wore them aroung the shop for about a half hour.  They're incredibly comfortable, the fit was just right, and I loved the fact that the features of the waders are made to mesh with the boots.   I did try on the Redington Sonic Pro pants but the clip on the gravel guards doesnt work well with the loop on the Simms boots, and so I gave up on that option.  I'm really happy with my choice- they were $50 cheaper than the Redington's, and they are designed to work with the boots, which I like.  I should add that Brian threw in a Simms Taco gear bag for buying boots and waders, which will provide great storage for travel.

Next- Water shoes.  I have this pair of Teva open toe sandals that I've had for years, and continue to use for sentimental reasons, but it seems like every time I go out, I hurt my feet somehow.  Sunday's kayaking trip was the last straw- I slipped on something in the river and jammed something sharp under a toenail.  The ensuing infection..... I'll stop there, suffice it to say that I decided it was time to get water shoes.  I need more protection, especially for my kayaking, and for walking the flats on those slick rocks up at Sturgeon Bay.  I was going to head to Dunham's Sports after I left The Northern Angler, but then these Simm's Stream Tread sandals caught my eye.  They have the Stream Tread Vibram sole, a hard toe that should offer lots of protection, and at $90 the price was right.

Finally- the rod.  I have three 8 weight rods.  One is an old glass heirloom.  One is a Redington Crosswater that I use for chuck 'n' duck for salmon and steelhead, and the last is my Flextec.  I've broken the tip off of it twice and just glued a new one on each time.  I don't really want to pay to mail a $100 rod back to England to have it fixed in the middle of steelhead season.  To its credit, I've learned to double haul with it, I caught my first carp, loads of steelhead and salmon, and that giant brown on it.  But this trip is all about streamer fishing, and I'll be working a rod harder than I ever have.  I'll be fishing for brook trout in the 3-9 pound range- fish as big as the browns I fish at home.  The Nipigon river is another consideration- it is big and deep, with loads of boulder structure, and a heavy current.  I'll be fishing a 350 grain Streamer Express line and 4-6 inch streamers all day long.  I want need a cannon.  My buddy Phil has a 6 weight Temple Fork Outfitters TiCRX streamer rod.  I've fished it a lot and can tell you it is a dream to cast.  I ordered an 8 weight TiCRX from Brian and can't wait to use it. CANNON!
And lastly (does that come after Finally?)- tying materials.  I loaded up on some gaps in the supply.  The vise is going with me on this trip.  I'm going to throw everything I know and have at these fish.  Also, I lost my entire smallmouth/carp box in June, and so stocked up on brown and rusty colors.  I don't know how much of that kind of fishing I'll get in from here on out, but I want to be prepared.

I spent more money than I like to at one time, but it was just the way it worked out.  If my old waders and boots weren't on their way out, I wouldn't have gotten new just for a big trip. But with fall salmon, steelhead and brown trout fishing coming up fast I need to be ready.  I feel like a walking Simm's advertisement now, but that's just the way it worked out.  I have no affiliations with Simm's and I'm not endorsed by them in any way.  I've long been aware that they make quality products.

I'd like to thank Brian Pitser and the crew at The Northern Angler for their helpfulness.  Brian's pricing is competitive, they are very knowledgeable about their products, his store is always well stocked, and they'll spend all the time with you that you need to make a decision and feel comfortable with your purchases.  You might think that I would have wanted to save the $50 on gas I spent driving to Traverse City and just order the stuff online, but it was too much money being spent to just order this stuff sight unseen, and my shopping experience at TNA reaffirmed the role of the local fly shop in my mind.

Pigeon River, Kayaking in August

I went kayaking on the Pigeon river yesterday.  I went with my friends the Stark brothers, Glenn and Keith.  Keith you'll remember from my Floating Away story.  Also along was Brandon, who I don't know very well, but was a welcome addition, and a new friend from Denver, Tim.  If there is one thing that sets me free, lifts my spirits, it's kayaking.  I love fly fishing, I really really do, but kayaking says "freedom" to me like nothing else.  Incidentally, all of my rods fit conveniently under the bungees on the fore and aft decks of my Wilderness Systems Tsunami 125.  But to get out on the river, float, drift with the current, power through rapids, portage the bones, talk with your friends, splash, paddle, mock, jest, pee in the bushes, fight the current, part your way through downed trees, snack on the shore, mock your friends some more- priceless.

The Pigeon River is a much embattled river about 30 minutes from my house.  It flows through the Pigeon River State Forest, from the high interior moraine of central Michigan near Gaylord into Mullet lake in Cheboygan county, about 60 river miles.  I say much embattled, because a few years back there was an accidental discharge of sediment into the river from the only dam on it at the Song of the Morning Ranch, a yoga retreat.  This was the third such discharge on the river, the second in my lifetime, and only recently has a judge affirmed that said dam must be completely removed, a victory for the river, the fish, Trout Unlimited, and everyone who uses the river.  I don't fish this river often, but it is always dynamite.  The fish are starting to come back, and it gets solid runs of fall/winter/spring steelhead and lake run browns.  While the sediment discharge killed a lot of fish, it did not get them all, and numbers are starting to rebound.  The potadromous runs of steelhead and browns ensure that rainbows and browns will always be available.

We postponed the start of our kayak journey as lightning was cracking overhead, rattling the windows, and setting our teeth on edge.  We didn't wait long though, and conditions on the river were perfect.  Here's the cast and crew.

Keith "The Enforcer"

K

Glenn "Mr. Fitness"

Tim "Urban Warfare"

Brandon "No Fear"  aka "Go Lite"

We hadn't gone far before we got to this huge downed willow tree totally blocking the river.  I'm not at liberty to discuss, but it was totally Lord of the Rings in there.  Complete with spiders.

We donked around after that, and came to this rapid in front of a cabin.  For some reason the guys got it in their heads to fight the current and  work this class II little boil over and over.  I was happy to sit back and shoot.

After that I couldn't take it any longer, this is after all, a blue ribbon trout stream.  I got the 8'6" 3 weight Redington Classic Trout out and flexed it a little.  The trout came quickly, and I was really pleased to get this gorgeous brook trout.

We floated past a seawall piled with lumber and made a long portage, but soon came to a high bank.  Some high-jinks ensued.  Brandon got it into his head that this bank would make for some ultimate hillbilly kayaking.  It did, and what resulted was photo and video gold.

This was a perfect day on the water, with overcast and humid conditions, and an incredibly fun group of guys to go with.  It sounds like we'll be doing a weekend kayak camping trip in September in the Upper Peninsula.  It should be great.

Monday Morning Coffee- August 8

Aaaauauuuuughghgauauuuughhgghhh!!!.  Good morning!  Monday again?  Let's have some joe.  I still haven't  gone through with my threats to order coffee from all over the place so I'm still drinking Starbuck's for the most part.  I'll have to start my coffee tour soon.

Well, it was another busy week.  One might think that with having recently caught a giant brown trout that I would be hitting the rivers even harder, but I haven't night fished since then.  Too busy, and my deadlines have been too tight.

One thing that has made my deadlines even tighter is my upcoming trip to Nipigon, Ontario.  I've read about Nipigon since childhood.  The Nipigon river is where the world record brook trout was caught, 14 pounds.  About 9 years ago I came across something about the giant brook trout there, and have been planning to go ever since.  One thing or another has always interfered, but this summer I decided it was time to make it happen.  My brother Sam is going with me which will be great.  Where I live in Northern Michigan is kind of a boundary between civilization and wilderness.  What that means is that it's possible to make a living and live a middle class life here, but it's also very wild.  It is very wild here, the winters are harsh, and the back country can be unforgiving.  It still breeds the type of woodsmen and outdoors people that you might have thought had gone extinct.  They're not, and my brother Sam is one of them.  I'm very happy he's going on this trip, because when I think of Sam one word comes to mind- tough.  He's a big strong guy, quiet and reserved if you don't know him, he's worked as a logger, but owns an auto body business now, he's an incredibly talented guitarist.  He's married to a beautiful wife and has two lovely daughters.  He lives about an hour away and so I don't see him very often.  I gave him one of my 5 weight rods this year, which he has been using and catching some fish, so I'm really looking forward to getting up there and fly fishing with him for these giant brook trout.  I've read that the fish average 3-5 pounds, and it's only a nine hour drive from my house.  You might be catching on to the fact that I'm as amped about spending time with my brother as I am about the fishing.  Fish or no fish, it's going to be a great trip.  I will, of course, be shooting reams of pictures, taking notes, and writing, writing, writing.  I'll try to hit a wi-fi spot somewhere to get a post or two up, but I've noticed the difficulties a lot of other bloggers have had with so-called "live" blogging, and so won't make any promises.

Sunrise in Harbor Springs, MI

I did manage to get out Saturday morning with Phil, his dad Phil, and Phil's nephew Luke.  We were trolling Lake Michigan for salmon and lake trout.  We got three lakers to the boat, but none were keepers (they have to be 24") and the salmon were a no-show.  Still, it was a gorgeous morning, Luke is a very nice young man, and I hope he'll take to the outdoors like his uncle.

Sunday afternoon I went kayaking with some buddies on the Pigeon river, and took my Redington Classic Trout 3 weight to swing some soft hackles for rainbows.  It's tough to do when you're kayaking with a group, but it was just an excuse to dink around.  I never did get together a big multi-day kayaking trip this year, and with the trips I have planned it probably won't happen.  I'll definitely have to amend that next year.  What I would really like to do is plan a multi-day trip on the upper Missouri river in Montana, or the Dolores river in Colorado.  That canyon country in southwest Colorado is little visited, incredibly beautiful, and I hear the fishing isn't bad either.  Things that make you say hmmmmmm.....   If anyone of you out there have any suggestions for wild rivers in the US that would support multi-day floats through back country, please pass them on.  This was a crazy group of guys and I think this kayak outing will have to make it into a post this week.  It included this....

seems like something bad is about to happen...

I did manage a couple of fish yesterday including this beautiful little brook trout, so I was well pleased with my weekend.  It was great spending time with so many friends, and I'm looking forward to a busy week.

Let's get after it.....

Jaundice

I'm ready.  It's time.  There's dirt in my boots, the result of my brothers crazy sense of humor.  I got up this morning, drank my coffee and ate three tasteless eggs with toast.   That's the end of the butter, so I guess it's cereal and boiled tasteless eggs tomorrow.  I went to work and stripped four decks before the rain and thunder, and the fear of walking on a rain-slicked shake roof made me stop for the day.  I drove north, bought some ice cream at DQ and took it to my brother.  He's sweat soaked, wearing a fedora, talking jovially with a neighbor while the excavator sits idling, waiting for them to finish.  He's covered in sand.  It's later, while shoveling sand away from the foundation of the new home he's building, that he throws a scoop of sand down each of my boots, to remind me that he's my little brother, that he's always going to pick on me, get me to laugh or fight him.  I laugh this time.

My attitude has jaundiced seriously, it happens every summer that I work this hard.  I'm ready.  Ready to sort it out, pack it up, load the truck and point it north.  I'm ready to go bamboo, as Bourdain likes to say, disappear into the bush, not tell anyone where I'm going, vanish.  I want to forget that there's internet, email, Facebook, faxing, chat, or texting.  I want to forget I even have a blog.  I hope my iPhone doesn't work where I'm going.  When you reach the point where all your local waters seem mundane it's time to go.

Today wasn't completely without it's redeeming moments- the little girl playing in the sand two feet from the back hoe, the skein of geese passing 30 feet overhead, a test flight before the fall.  The ice cream.  But I feel deep inside this need, to go Away.  To see something new, fish some new waters.  I want to get bitten by different bugs.

I have two and a half weeks to get this job done, sort my gear, and tie a pile of streamers.  I need to order another rod, some wading boots and some waders.  We need to line up a boat and make sure all the service is done on the truck.  Then, my other brother and I are headed to Nipigon.  Google it.  No you can't come.  My brother- let's just call him Sam, is ten years younger than me, 4 inches taller, strong as an ox, and fearless.  He'll be a great traveling companion.  He's just learning to fly fish.
We're going to pack too much stuff, buy too much food and spend too much money.  We might catch fish.  I'm going to take my vise and not use it.  The kayak definitely goes.  I'm taking three 8 gig cards for the camera.  We'll focus on the Nipigon river for giant brook trout, fish measured in pounds, not inches.  I'll also poke around for big pike and muskie, and explore some other rivers for trout.  I want to see my friend Al in Thunder Bay, then go see the Sleeping Giant.

It's time.