Time to Panic

I'm sweating, just a little. My fellow Michiganders who don't fish don't get it. They think it is still hard-core, hard-assed mid-winter. They are wrong- dead wrong. Spring is here, has sprung, and needs to be mopped up a bit. This is it. Next weekend is March. Winter's back is broken, and all the snow, all the wind, and all the cold are just the last gasps, the last spasms, the last dying breaths of this Great Dragon Winter. Snow all you want Smaug, but when the sun pops out your heart bleeds white blood back into the earth.

If you fish a lot, if you're a steelheader, if the snow and ice doesn't scare you then you know what I mean. The urge to spawn is building in the steelhead. Every 34 degree day, every bit of sunshine, every up-tick in stream flow only makes that urge more maddening. Some fish have been in the rivers all winter, but fresh ones are pushing up almost every day now.

In March it gets serious. The days are longer, the storms are fierce, and the great mythological battle between the cold northern dragon and the hot southern one heats up. In like a lion, out like a pussy cat with a hairball. Once April rolls around it is full on steelhead time, with tons of bright fish moving up the rivers. If you don't spend every spare hour on the river you are crazy.

After that it's over. February will have seemed to be a luxury; March a first love, April more ardent, more urgent. Then it is May, with it's fly hatches,spring peepers, mosquitoes and that first touch of humidity after an early spring storm, by which I mean thunder storm. Then it's June, at which point summer is over. Hex me this and Hex me that.

July is an afterthought, August a mirage, and life only gets serious again, just a little, in September. Call this an ode to frivolity, but let the frolicking begin.

If I've lost you on this then you don't fish enough. I have no time now. Neither do you, but you don't know it.

Let it begin.

Gravity- That Insane Pull that is the Tug and Not the Drug

Gravity at work on a gray day. Thomas Menas photo

We tumbled down the banks, Tom and I. We tumbled down because we had to. It's gravity, pure and simple, and this most elemental of laws is what had brought us here- gravity, downward flow, the lowest common denominator; finding our center, being grounded.

Winter is enough to drive you insane, but doubly so in this modern era of Global Something. There's nothing to rely on- no cold, no snow, no -30 mornings, nothing anymore except gravity. It pulls me and Tom down hill even as it pulls the water downstream. Gravity is what pulls steelhead upstream- we hope. Fishing can probably be measured by the same forces as flight. Lift vs. gravity, thrust vs. drag. Lift is my attitude when approaching a river vs. the ever downward flow of the river, and the odds that I may not catch fish; thrust is the tail of a steelhead vs. my drag.

So Tom and I tumbled inexorably down hill like the waters themselves, propelled onward by unreasonable optimism, and checked by the drag of no fish to be found, hitting our heads against the stonewall reality of midwinter blah and such. Gray skies, an east wind, and nothing to show for our efforts.

We regrouped a bit later, discussed what was wrong. The kids on the hill opposite us hailed us repeatedly. I answered them in a mocking voice, and they either didn't pick up on my sarcasm or chose to ignore it. They called out over and over again, their voices echoing off the valley walls, while one dutiful adult supervised the dragging of sleds, and presumably the wiping of noses, gravity again to blame on both counts.

Gravity is our friend and nemesis. It keeps the rivers flowing and the steelhead pointed upstream. It keeps me headed to the rivers and fights me when I try to leave. Perhaps it's the reason I hate to leave a river- it's just too much damn work. Every river has an escape velocity. Fly fishing has an escape velocity, an unknown number, incalculable. Fly tying is a black hole, measured only by the X-rays escaping its event horizon. Fly casting is ruled by physics and quantum theory. Carp fishing is measured in nanometers. Night time browns are measured in cricket chirps, coyote howls and "Hexes". Dead Rodents is also an acceptable answer.

Tom and I banged our heads against the cosmic constant; we fought gravity and the current and lost, while the fish, with their snouts pointed bravely into the current, ignored us. So we fought gravity, and deep snow, thick swamp, spring seeps and steep banks; we found our escape velocity of that moment, freed ourselves from the river, the rain, and the ever-growing gray of a storm in February. We re-grouped, discussed our options, discussed our futures in this brave world of fly fishing- we fought gravity, that ever downward force, the beckoning mediocrity that says "get a real job, be responsible; dreams are just that".

my buddy Tom, fighting gravity

There is no pull greater than the reality of our lives. We get one shot at this. If you're not out there experiencing this planet you are just another satellite circling the globe, passively exchanging information, until gravity disrupts your orbit. At least you'll go out in a blaze of glory, and if you're lucky you'll make a pock-mark in the Saharan sands. Me, I'm circling this globe, searching for my center, hoping for escape velocity. Fly fishing is the center of my world, my black hole. I hope I never escape.

Gear Review- Redington SubZero Waders

Alex Cerveniak photo

The winter fishing season is upon us, which for me means chasing steelhead. I have been making my standard breathable waders work up until now by piling on the layers and wearing an old cut-off pair of neoprene booties inside my wader booties. While this keeps my feet warm, they are always cramped up and I feel like the Michelin Man. Winter steelheading is one of my absolute favorite pursuits, part of what makes the winters here more bearable, so imagine my response when Kara Armano in association with Redington asked if I would like to test Redington’s new SubZero waders for them.

I’m a practical guy, and for me to spend money on a product it has to be a substantial improvement over what I already own. I guess I should throw in the disclaimer now that Redington provided these waders gratis for me to test and review. What I can say, is that they are a substantial improvement to my former winter fishing outfit, and definitely worth the money. If you are a dedicated winter fisherman, or want to be but don’t like being cold, these waders are worth serious consideration.

A weekend in mid-January was the perfect opportunity to test these waders and see how I liked them. The forecast for Saturday was 35 degrees with snow and rain. The forecast for Sunday was 14 degrees with high winds and snow. I would be testing two different situations- a moderate day more akin to early spring fishing, and a cold winter day with brutal Northern Michigan conditions.

With warm (35 degree) weather on tap for Saturday my test for these waders was this- could I wear a light thermal layer and street clothes and be comfortable?

The answer was a resounding yes. I wore light wool socks, one layer of long underwear and blue jeans and a fleece. I wore a raincoat later in the day when it began to rain, and to help block the wind. At its very worst my feet were cool but not cold after hours spent standing hip-deep in frigid water, and I was never uncomfortable. I became uncomfortable walking the banks and walking out- I became way too warm.

With markedly colder temperatures on tap for Sunday my question was “Can I stay comfortable and fish for any length of time at all?”

The answer again was yes. I fished for 4 hours. Because of the harsh conditions (14 degrees, high winds, heavy snow) I dressed more appropriately. I wore the same base layer as Saturday with fleece pants over that, and a performance shirt and wool sweater on top, with a fleece hat and wool fingerless gloves. I wore a heavy wool coat over the top of all that. 14 degrees is 14 degrees. I wore a single pair of heavy wool socks.

I kicked the Sunday test off right by leaving my wet waders and boots in my car overnight. My boots were frozen so solid I had to bring them inside, kick on my furnace and let them thaw a little so I could put them on.

The result again was cool but not cold feet. What surprised me was that as the day wore on, my feet got warmer and warmer. My fishing this day involved less walking and so I never became uncomfortably hot, but I was never cold or remotely uncomfortable. I have never fished at that temperature without getting cold, and I typically won’t fish when it is below 20 degrees out. 25 is better. At one point I was wading (stupidly) well past my waist and well past what would be considered safe. I never felt the water, but the thought of what a swim in this kind of cold would do made me turn back.

It’s not just that the SubZeros kept me warm. They are very comfortable to wear and are cut on the roomy side to accommodate a heavy coat. I wore my wool jacket on the outside and was able to very comfortably stow my 35 mm DSLR camera down the front of them.

Alex Cerveniak photo

Some nice features include internal and external storage pockets, and a roomy and very cleverly  designed hand warmer pocket with a unique closure that allows easy access while retaining heat. The SubZeros are a hybrid design, meaning that the legs are 3mm and the feet are 5mm neoprene, while the upper is breathable material. This results in a comfortable wader. The seams are heavily taped, the crotch gusseted, and key areas such as the knees have a special coating for abrasion and puncture resistance. A surprising design feature is that the neoprene extends well past the waist line in the back, but the crotch is breathable material (remember the two hottest areas of the human body from survival class?). Again, the result is a balance of comfort and warmth.

This review is a touch premature- I have worn them a total of 2 times, but for my purposes I had only 2 questions- Are they comfortable, and will they keep me warm. The answer to both is yes. I may update this later on the question of durability and features, but I do know this- the SubZeros are going to be my go-to waders for the rest of the winter and I will be fishing more because I know I can fish colder temperatures comfortably. This is going to be one short winter.

SubZero waders retail for $299.95. Be sure and check them out at www.redington.com and get ready for some good winter fishing.

Numero Uno

I went fishing today, my first outing of the year, numero uno. According to the Jealousy Counter (now re-set) I fished 95 times last year. I went today for the usual reasons- I needed to get out of the house, I needed some air, I needed a horizon. I wanted to catch a fish. There were plenty of reasons not to go. There's always more house- and paperwork to do, I have articles to finish, emails to answer, research to do, dinner won't cook itself; or the fear that the cold and damp will blanch my features until I am another faceless dot in the pointillist human landscape.

You can always tell how my winter fishing trips went by the pictures I take- if it went well there will be pictures of fish. If I'm taking pictures of cool ice formations the fishing stunk. Today I took pictures of ice. I'm really not sure why I do this. Perhaps its the notion that if the river isn't going to give me fish than I am going to take something- I can't go home empty handed. Trophy icicle anyone? Sure, ice can be beautiful. It can also be dull, gray, a cold reminder, the epitome of the harshness of the season.

The water was low, the biggest pool on this stretch of river was nearly iced over, leaving me only pocket water to fish. This isn't really a river; it is more of a creek. When the water is up you can fish it out in a couple of hours time, and it's never worth fishing two days in a row- if you had a good day those fish are on to you, you're better off resting them. I fish this creek for the same reasons I fish a lot of my spots- no one lives here year-round, and very few people fish here at all. Sure, there's a handful of local geezers who dunk spawn at the lamprey weir, but it's rare to see them mid-winter. It hosts just enough fish to keep me coming back, but not enough that anyone would drive an hour to get there. Usually it's just me and the eagles. Last time I was there I saw two immature bald eagles winging slowly by. You can always tell the immature ones- they laugh at fart jokes.

So, the fishing was unspectacular, the skies were gray and I was shunned by fish and eagles alike, but I am on the board.

Numero uno.

2012, We Hardly Knew Ye. . .

It all seems like such a blur now. I don't keep a journal, so all I can do is look at my year in photos and say "Oh wow, I forgot about THAT." It's amazing how quickly a year seems to fly by, yet we manage to pack so much into it. Before I get too far into this, Troutrageous! laid out the ground rules for these kind of posts, so I'm going to go check the regs and come back.

Okay, according to him the first rule is:

1. No lengthy videos or photo slideshows of all of the fish you caught. In keeping with this I'll only be sharing a handful of pictures scattered throughout this post. This shot below is one of my favorites, of Alex Cerveniak casting on a remote brook trout stream on a foggy morning in late summer. We didn't catch a lot of fish, but it was a great day spent on the water with a good friend and the lighting and detail are perfect. I met Alex in March and he has quickly become on of my favorite companions on the water, especially if I want to do an all day remote bushwhack in search of some lost grail.

This leads us to Troutrageous! rule #2 (also known as taking a #2)

2. Don't write too much. I blew off a dinner invitation from Tom Hazleton in order to interview April Vokey. Tom is such a good guy, that not only did he forgive me this slight, we have gone on to become great friends. Being that Tom is a customer service rep for Scientific Anglers and I'm a fly fishing blogger it could be easy to assume I have ulterior motives. My answer to such assumptions is a resounding "No!" Tom is the real deal- he grew up in northern Minnesota fishing the same kind of small backcountry brook trout streams that I did. Among our trips we went camping, night fished while listening to elk bugle, got turned around in the backcountry traveling from stream to stream, caught smallies and carp on the flats, and waded down a fast moving stream by moonlight to swing streamers for king salmon. Tom recently got married to his long-time sweetheart, but I sense we still have many adventures ahead of us. The photo below is of Tom out on the vast carp flats on what was a memorable weekend of camping, catching big browns at night during the Hex hatch, and stalking bronzebacks and carp in the afternoon. Easily the best weekend of summer.

Tom between a rock and the blue sky.

T! rule #3. No lamenting over your blog's future... Okay, I've already done this elsewhere, but I will state some new rules. No more posting just to post- either I mean it and feel it or it doesn't happen. This means that Monday Morning Coffee will continue to fade away. If it has been an interesting week and I have several unrelated items worth sharing then maybe, but don't look for it each Monday (I'm sure you aren't since I've let it slide for several months now). Also- No giveaways or other gimmicks to drive traffic. My blog revolves around my writing and photography. If that doesn't cut the mustard I'm not going to bribe you with freebies. Not saying I'll never do giveaways but I think you get the picture.


T! rule #4. Insert a stupid pop culture reference in your post, even if it makes no sense. This was the year that Brandon Robinson (onebugisfake.com) moved to Michigan. Brandon's Facebook post is the reason I woke myself up with coffee and Gangnam Style all those mornings this year. Curses Mr. Robinson. Rather than share some photo or video of Psy I believe this shot of Brandon riding a pink flamingo in someone's front yard says so much more. Giddy up!

T! rule #5. Five is the magic number. All right Mr. 'Rageous! you get your wish. Here are my top five fishing trips this year in no particular order.

1. Fishing the Pere Marquette river in March with Alex Cerveniak. We drove several hours through the worst snow storm of the year. We didn't catch fish, but took some great photos. We stopped at BBT in Baldwin and bought copies of the new Drake issue with his work in it (how often does that happen?). It was the start of a great friendship.

2. Camping and fishing the trico hatch (which didn't happen) with Mike Schmidt of Angler's Choice flies. Mike is a great guy to share a campfire or a river with. We were especially proud of this trophy log he caught on a 0 weight- it took both of us to land it. You don't get many moments like these on the river.

3. Fishing for brook trout with Alex Cerveniak and Jim Stuard. Alex mocked me for my choice of location, and the fishing was slow but the photo below is of Alex hooked on a twenty inch brook trout right before it broke him off. 'nuff said.

4. Camping and fishing with Tom Hazleton in June. I've already mentioned it above, but it was a fish bum weekend that I will long remember.

5. My solo trip to the UP on July 4 after brook trout. You can read about here on MidCurrent.com if you haven't already. It was an epic trip- 3 streams, withering heat, beautiful fish, and a personal pilgrimage.

Beaver Island in June ranks up there as well, but I had some tough choices to make.

This finally brings me to Fish of the Year:

This was one of two 5 pound smallmouth I caught on Grand Traverse Bay in the spring. They were equally memorable but I had to pick one. Smallmouth in general were the fish of the year- I fished for them a lot, caught well over 100 of them and they vastly expanded and changed how I look at fly fishing. I've already started tying for next spring.

I especially want to thank all the good people (besides the ones mentioned) I shared the water with this year- Jeff Kennedy, Ethan Smith, Becca Schlaff, Ethan Winchester, Don Mapes, Zach Ginop, Tom Menas, Steve Martinez, Brian Kozminski, and Greg Walz. You all were a pleasure to fish with, and it made the season that much more rewarding and interesting. If I left anyone out I apologize.

 According to the Jealousy Counter (top right on this blog) I fished 95 times this year. Will I beat that in 2013? Who knows and who cares. I still live in Northern Michigan, there are still many miles of stream and dozens of lakes I've never fished yet. Au revoir 2012 and welcome 2013. I wish you all the best and tight lines.

Existencia

I wrote this a few weeks ago when there had been a lapse of a couple of months between posts, but I still felt it was worth sharing.

It's kind of amazing to come back here, look around, run a finger through the dust on the shelves. That line tells a tale, more so than the smudge on my finger tip, a lesson in contrast. Mortenson has been questioning my blogger cred.

I suppose he has good reason.

Have you ever asked the question "Who am I; why am I here?"? That's a bit dual pronged, but certainly related. In fly-speak we'd call it "an articulated question".

I've been wondering why I do this, and where it is going. Is there a reason for me to post every Monday morning, even if I have nothing noteworthy to say, or worse, haven't given it the effort that you my readers deserve? Does the fact that I have "pro" status with several companies make me an industry person, or am I still an independent voice? Do I have to become a guide?

Other questions bother me. Sure, I fish a lot and catch a lot of fish, but does that make me an expert? Hardly. I can barely cast, my tying is rudimentary at best, my knowledge of riparian entomology is sketchy, and honestly I am an outsider to fly fishing culture. I've spent too much time fishing on my own. Fly fishing for me has always been a solitary pursuit, not a social one. I went to the rivers for solitude and solace, and I specifically avoided fishing at times and places that drew crowds. Loneliness on a river was comforting and welcome, in stark contrast to the feeling of loneliness at home.

And so I fished a lot. 5 days a week for a couple of years. I got to know my rivers here better than anyone except Zach Ginop, who is a better angler and tyer than me by a long shot, and also 20 years my junior. It's a good thing he can't write. He's one of the best people you could ever spend a day on the river with. He's been voted (by me) Most Likely to Get His Flies Into the Orvis Catalog.

Whatever you do don't fish with this guy- Zach in action.

I left private life at about the same time as most of you. I am of course referring to the current Facebook era. In pretty much one fell swoop I got a Facebook account and then started blogging. I never thought anyone besides a couple of my close personal friends and family would ever follow anything I did, but these days they are a small minority of my followers. I'm getting a kick out of the current rash of "privacy" and "copyright" posts on Facebook. All of you- this is the internet era. I can copy and paste anything you post. I can download your pictures. When you clicked "I Agree" on Facebook's (and every other online social media) terms you gave them permission to pimp what you're posting, and never mind the fact that it allows me to download and use it, right or wrong. If you don't want to share it, don't post it. Sharing means exactly that- you are splitting your cookies n milk with me. Thank you.

Sharing my solitary pursuit on social media resulted in a schizophrenic split- this is what I do alone, for all of you to see. Blogging exacerbated the chasm- this is what I do alone, please follow me. I am still exploring this rent in my psyche. I've tried hard not to give up river names and places, but at one point I fished a favorite spot that, judging by the untracked snow had not been fished in several days. I did a small blog and social media post on my successful fishing, only to find 6 cars there the next day. Coincidence? Possibly, but it still was an odd feeling.

At the end of this day I still feel it is worth doing. I'll continue to hold everyone at arms length even as I continue to share my adventures. I'll continue to write. I have some fresh inspiration. Writers will always be lost and questioning souls. If you're wondering what Limbo is like, become a writer. It's not so bad- at least we have an outlet.

Review- Redington Form Practice Rod

Let's say you're a salesman. A good salesman. You live in an Austin suburb, own a comfortable house, have a lovely wife and 1.7 children.  You're trapped in the soulless hell of plugging your company's widget business to business and are on yet another business trip. You have a golf handicap, fashion sense, are quick with a joke, and you bury your colleagues when it comes to what matters- selling.

What your coworkers don't know, is that you're a closet fly fisherman. That's right, several times a year you take a long weekend or even a week, tell your colleagues you're heading out to visit family or going camping or whatever, when really you're taking the long rod to your favorite waters to fish your species of choice. Up until recently you've spent the first half day of such trips re-learning how to cast. But you're a good guy with impeccable taste and married the perfect woman. How perfect? She bought you the Redington Form practice rod as a gift. And here you are on a business trip, you've flogged your product successfully for the umpteemth time and now you are actually excited to return to your hotel room. Why? Because you  get to spend the evening casting your Form rod at Wolf Blitzer's forehead. Just remember he deserves it.

Part of me thinks that the Form is just a devilishly ingenious way to play with cats and small terriers. Imagine perfecting your casting form while Fluffy and Kibbles chase the orange yarn fly- that's right, your Persian could make you a better fly caster. That Yorkie could make you stop your back-cast on a dime.

My snarky sense of humor aside, one of my biggest gripes each spring used to be that I had gotten rusty at my casting and would spend the first outing or two thrashing around like a walrus trying to haul out on the ice. It would have been nice to have one back then. The Form is compact enough that you can cast it indoors- it's all of 50 inches long with a thirty foot long Rio custom line and a yarn "fly" attached. One of it's ingenious features is that there is no attachment point for the line. This let's you hold the line with your rod hand, performing a normal cast OR you can hold the line with your free hand and guess what? Pretty soon you're double hauling like a pro. The Redington Form rod is a two-piece rod with a nice carrying case that has some rather ingenious casting instructions on the side ( Did you ever think the phrase "Answer the phone" would make you a better caster?). It even has one of those nifty QR codes on the side that will direct you to Redington's site for instructional videos etc.

those ingenious instructions

I have to say that even though I struggle less and fish more than I used to I still play around with this thing as it is a lot of fun to cast. I even got out my three weight line and threaded it up, just to see if it would cast a real fly line. I got fifty feet out of it. Next spring my buddy Zach and I are going to take it out for brook trout. There's no reel seat but trust me- we'll figure it out.

The Redington Form rod retails for $39.95 and makes an excellent gift for the fly angler in your life.

Or maybe for your Yorkie.