Now I won’t go so far as to say that I’ve actually seen a version of Nessie, but I’ve seen some things.

My kids say there is no such thing as monsters.  I disagree.  Check out a tiger, a great white shark, a grizzly bear, an anaconda.  These are all monsters as far as I’m concerned.  They will all kill and eat you.

Same for crocodiles.  I saw one once.  This was an American crocodile, not known to be as vicious as their Nile or Aussie cousins.

This one was in the Flamingo Marina.  Sarah and I rented a canoe to take out into Florida Bay.  “Is that a crocodile I just saw?’ I asked the gal at the concession.  “Oh yeah, that’s Sarge, just stay away from him and he won’t bother ya.” 

Not my picture , but this is a croc at Flamingo

I’m pretty bold when it comes to approaching various creatures, but I’m going to go ahead and steer clear of the 12-foot-long friendly dinosaur living in your marina, especially when I’m in a canoe.  Sure enough, we quickly and quietly paddled by while Sarge glared at us from fifty feet away, avocado eyes and his algae covered scutes barely showing above the dark water.

Another time farther north along the Gulf Coast a giant manta ray coasted silently past, just above the bottom in the clear water where we were staked out for tarpon.  My friend John, who is as cool as they come, said in his understated way of talking “Wow man, that’s some Discovery Channel shit right there…”

A guide once told me there are no giant manta rays in Florida

The thing was as big as the boat, and I was fully puckered until it was well past us.   It looked super sinister, perhaps deserving of its nickname “Devil Ray”, but we all know they are harmless.  But what if it jumped and landed on your boat…?

Now this next sea monster isn’t so easily explained. It wasn’t exactly a monster, but could be perhaps better described as a freak of nature.  I was much farther north, on Big Boy Lake near Remer, Minnesota.  I was out with a couple of friends, mostly fishing for bass, mostly catching pike.  My friend Dan was driving his Tuffy boat from one spot to another, I’m sitting on the front deck.  He happened to be looking back at the wake when something caught his eye.  He cut the throttle and went into a hard turn. He was looking back, yelling something and pointing to where the boat has just been.  “What’s going on, what did you see?” I yelled.  “I don’t know… I think it was a…a…a…muskie?”  [He later said that what he saw was WAY too big to be a muskie, but it was the only thing he could think of at the time] That’s all I needed to hear, the boat was coasting to a stop and I had already stood up and was casting a black Eagletail in the direction he was looking.  Muskies are known to come up in a boat wake, so this isn’t unheard of.  What is unheard of is the thing that came up next to the boat.  It was a turtle.  A snapping turtle. 

We’ve all seen big snappers before, I’ve seen hundreds, maybe thousands of snappers in my life. I’ve been known to grab one on more than one occasion.  This thing was so much bigger than any other snapper I’ve ever seen, it was like a different animal.  It was over two feet across, and its head was the size of a football. It dove back out of sight almost immediately, not before we could all point and yell “AAAAIIIGGGHHHHH!!!! Look at that!!!!”.  Let me say again, all of us in the boat are very familiar with snapping turtles, and we all got a good look at this one.

Wes Prewett’s Alabama record 200 lb Alligator snapper. This is the size of what we saw that day.

If you look at a picture of a full-grown example of the common snapping turtle’s southern cousin, the alligator snapper, you get an idea of the size of this thing.  Our northern snapping turtle, called “common snapping turtles” have a max weight of 75 lbs.  Coincidentally I had a magazine back at camp that had a picture of the Minnesota state record snapper, which was around 75 lbs.  That night I dug out the magazine and we laughed–the thing we saw was easily twice the size, probably more.  Alligator snappers often achieve triple-digit weight, and reports of them up to 400 lbs. are out there.  Was what we saw a lost alligator snapper?  They are known to be as far north as Illinois.  Maybe someone transplanted one.  Or just due unknown circumstances did a common snapper greatly exceed its normal lifespan of 100 years?  I was on this lake with my kids last summer.  When we were swimming I couldn’t help but wonder if this creature was still prowling the lakebed.

To this day Dan and I will reminisce about that day and what we saw.  Ask him, his story is the same as mine.

Next sighting was even farther north.  On Lake Chauekuktuli in Alaska.  Tikchik Lodge alumni know this lake.  It’s nestled in the Taylor Mountains, 23 miles long and 900 feet deep, it is one of several big deep lakes in the headwaters of the Nuyakuk River, which feeds the Nushagak River.  It’s a 20-minute boat ride from the lodge, and is home to abundant lake trout and char.  On the day of the sighting the weather was very uncharacteristic for Alaska-bright sun, no wind, temp in the 70s.  I had two guests in the 18-foot Lund, we passed through a connecting river known as the Northwest Passage and were headed across Chauekuktuli to fish in front of the Allen River.  

Me on a different day on Lake Chauekuktuli. Look like good monster habitat?

Enjoying the glass calm boat ride, I was about half way across when I saw something come to the surface right next to the boat and immediately dive down again.  We were moving along pretty fast, and I remember thinking “Whoa, that was a big snapper”.  I can still picture what I saw—the back end of a big turtle as it dove away. The Boy Lake incident was still semi fresh in my brain, having happened just a couple years before, and as I’ve said before, seeing big snapping turtles isn’t that unusual.  This thought was quickly replaced with the fact that there are no turtles [or any reptiles] in Alaska!  I cut the throttle and circled back.  The guests wanted to know what was up, said “I don’t know, I saw something…” I circled around slow, looking for any other signs of life.  Whatever it was didn’t show itself again, so we continued towards the north side of the lake, and I looked back over the glass surface of the lake as we went, hoping to spot whatever it was re-emerging from the depths.

Back at the lodge that afternoon I cautiously told the boss about what I saw.  “Was it a seal?” he asked.  I don’t think it was a seal.  A seal would have been a hundred miles from the ocean and would have has to swim up some serious rapids to get there.  I still don’t know what it was.  A loon or an otter? I would have seen them pop up for air.  Another misplaced giant snapping turtle?  A swarm of burbot?  Or an unknown creature.  There have been sightings of large creatures in many Alaskan other lakes.

Now its going to get weird.  Or weirder.  The previous stories all could have a logical explanation.  Not this one.  Closer to home this time, I was fishing from my float tube on Little Falls Lake in Wisconsin. This is a 200-acre reservoir with a max depth of 20 feet.  Not a big lake.  At one time it was a great bass fishing lake, and I used to fish there a couple times of year, usually with friends.  On this day in May I was fishing solo, and the lake was fishing really well.  I caught a bunch of bass, and a few were five pounders or bigger.  If you don’t know, a float tube is basically an inner tube with a nylon cover and seat.  You propel yourself along with flippers on your feet. No matter how hard you try, there is no going fast.   A typical day of fishing this lake will have you starting at the access and then fish around the lake counter-clockwise.  It takes the better part of a day to fish all the way around.  I found myself straight across from the access and rather than coninue the loop all the way around I  decided to call it a day and cut scroos to the access. 

A typical Little Falls Lake bass from back in the day. No sign of a dolphin in this picture.  Or is there?

Takes about 15 minutes to go across and I was admiring how torn up my thumb was from all the bass as I slowly flippered along.  Something caught my eye in my peripheral vision.  I faced the direction I had seen it, towards the upper end of the lake and I thought how if this were on the ocean I would be certain that I had just seen a dolphin.  Now, as I am looking right at the spot, a dolphin surfaces in classic “dolphin style”—head, dorsal, back, tail, moving from right to left, about 150 yards away.  WTF.   I know what you’re thinking, and this lake does not have sturgeon.  It does not have muskies. And it definitely does not have dolphins.  So, what did I see?  Or…what happened to make me think I saw what I saw?  At the access there was a guy I knew, I told him how I had just seen a giant “fish”.  “Probably a carp” he said.  It wasn’t a carp, I’ve seen a million carp.  It was way bigger than any freshwater fish. This lake was drained a few years ago to rebuild the dam, and I’m pretty sure that if the remains of a dolphin or plesiosaur turned up on the dry lake bed it would have made the news.  I can’t explain it.  I read a lot about weird paranormal things, stuff like parallel dimensions opening up, time travel, all the crypto zoology stuff.  Let me be clear, I don’t think there was actually a dolphin or other giant creature, but for some reason my brain thinks I saw it.  When I tell someone this story, I don’t expect them to believe it, I don’t expect you to believe it now; I don’t even believe it.  But the image of that dolphin still lives in my brain.

Maybe this is why I’m not quick to dismiss when someone says they’ve seen a bigfoot, or an alien, or Jesus, or a ghost.  I wasn’t there.  Who am I to say what you saw?  Just like you were weren’t there that day on Little Falls Lake.  I’ve had two different guys tell me about muskies they’ve seen that defy explanation, they were so big.  Muskies in the 7 – 8 foot range.  These stories come from sane men that are believable in every other way, have caught a lot of what most would consider to be “big” muskies [more like 4 – footers], and would have nothing to gain by telling me their tall tales.  I wasn’t in the boat with them, I don’t know what they saw.

I was just finishing this up when there was a knock at the front door.

I open it and there’s this cute little girl scout.

And she was so adorable, with the little pig tails and all.

And she says to me, “How would you like to buy some cookies?”

And I said “Well, what kind do you have?”

She had thin mints, graham crunchy things, raisin oatmeal, and I said “We’ll take a graham crunch.

How much will that be?”

She looks at me and she says, “I need about treefiddy”.

She had me there.  “That’s true”, I said, “but this guy seems way less douchey than most, and even though I’ve never met him, we do have mutual friends…I think the guy might be a cop or something, and judging by his blog I’m pretty sure he’s harmless.  The guy is always putting up pictures of big trout, which is more than I’ve been able to do this year.  But…..if you don’t want me to go, I’m sure Gunnar would be up for going steelhead fishing this weekend…and Gunnar did say something about a new strip club opening up, we’ll probably check it out on the way home…”

Fast forward to Sunday morning at Eddie’s house.  I really needed to break this trout fishing jinx.

I had left the decision as to where we were to go up to him, which is a very odd move for me.  But I’ve seen his posts, he fishes a lot, catches plenty of above average sized trout, so I’m willing to trust his judgement.  Besides, all of my best spots have been marginal or worse this year.  He said bring a life vest in case we use a canoe, I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, but I brought one with to be sure.  I wasn’t even sure which state we would be headed towards, so I made sure all licenses were current in the five-state area, and I brought my passport just in case he had some crazy Nipigon mission in mind.  I was just hoping to get into some good trout fishing, and after a quick chat in his kitchen we had the canoe loaded up and were off.

We had a great talk on the way to his first spot, talking of places we’ve been, mutual people we know, that sort of stuff.  He’s been at the trout fishing thing for about six or seven years, and has a crazy exploratory nature. He writes a blog that I enjoy, a lot of you have probably seen it — Eddie Rivard Fly Fishing

Even when I used to fish a lot more than I do now I didn’t explore like he does.  It later occurred to me how much easier it is today to seek out new spots with all the info that can be gleaned off the internet.  It became pretty obvious early in our conversation that there were no trout spots I knew of that he hadn’t fished and probably caught an 18 incher out of.  He did make a comment about how he had not been able to figure out where “Area 51” was, even though there were power lines in a photo of me with a trout there.  “Area 51” is a Triple Secret Spot of mine that very few people know the exact location of, and I couldn’t remember even posting a picture where I named the spot, but it amused me to learn that I was not the only one that would spend hours on google Earth trying to figure out where someone’s fish picture was taken.

Our day ended up mostly being a series of what I would call “hit and run” spots—park, hit a couple of “money spots”, then back to the vehicle.  The first spot we tried had the water pretty high and muddy, not quite what I would call unfishable, but getting there.  I hooked up right away on a nice twenty-incher, which turned out to be a redhorse.  We never decided if it actually ate my streamer or just got snagged in its ample upper lip. No sign of trout, but it was cool to be fishing on water that while it may not be completely secret, it was totally off my radar.

We had a quick look at this unknown creek, Eddie couldn’t resist making a couple of casts right by the road

We bopped around and tried a few more spots, but Eddie eventually decided we would need to find some clear water.  And clear water we found.  We ended out our day on a pretty little creek with an abundant population of little trout, and even they proved to be too much for me.  Eddie assured me that he had tangled with some big fish in the creek before and I believe him—there were numerous undercuts and hidey-holes where a big trout could live, just waiting for the next fingerling trout to munch.

So the jinx continues.

I keep saying how good our local trout fishing was in the 90s.  If you weren’t around then, imagine this—The Rush is thick with fat browns, mid teen to low 20 inch fish were common.  The Upper Kinni had over 5,000 trout per mile, and the lower had great numbers of 10-16” browns, and it always seemed like there was a hatch.  And no kayakers floating over your fish. Even the Willow had a strong population of trout of all sizes, you could even expect dry fly action most evenings.  There was no internet, no Google Earth, no place to post your reports.  Maybe at the local fly shop, but that was about it.  When Eddie asked me if I had ever fished this spot or that spot, I always had to say no.  The fishing was so good on the home streams that there was no need to explore.  And every time I did go on a mission to the Eau Galle or the Trimbelle or some other similar spot I always had the same result—nice streams, there are fish to be caught, but it just didn’t make sense to drive by miles of the best trout water in the Eastern US to explore.

I keep saying that the streams will come back, and they will. But for now it appears that exploring is necessary. There are more good anglers, and less secrets.  In the 80s and 90s the vehicles I had were unpredictable at best, and more than once found me broken down somewhere.  Vehicles today are all good, I never see any beaters parked at the streams, or anywhere else for that matter.  A vehicle that is reliable and gets good gas mileage may be the best piece of trout equipment there is.  Match it up with high speed internet to access resources like Google, the USGS Streamflow Gauges, and DNR websites, there’s no good reason to not be able find somewhere to fish.  So I guess I better get busy and find me some good water to fish. I’ve got a milk run in mind, this weekend or maybe next.

And remember that even the best vehicle won’t do you any good if you run out of gas.

So Saturday morning found me and Savannah heading South on Hwy 52, hoping to put together a good day of troutin’.  Rain was threatening, but after studying the NWS radar I convinced myself that it would rain little, if at all while we were out.  Savannah has caught a bunch of trout before, but it has always been on bait.  I was hoping to take it up a level, and I had put together a small pocket box for her with a few Rapalas and Panther Martins.  The drive went quickly and any fears of the streams being blown out were for nothing as the water was clear, maybe too clear.

Savannah is a capable caster for a nine year old, but casting in a small stream is challenging, and accuracy is crucial.

  She did pretty good though, and hooked a nice fish in each of the first two spots we tried, but both came off right away.  How a fish can avoid getting caught when it bites a Rapala remains a mystery.  There were some small trout rising steadily in a couple of spots, and I was able get them to bite without too much difficulty on any small fly I showed them, but I really wanted the girl to get one.

I’ve not done much spin fishing for trout in the last 30 years, I did a lot when I was a kid, though.  I learned early on that when the Rapala/spinner bite is on, it can be ridiculous how easy it is to rack up a bunch of fish.  [Sidebar—At some point I realized that when the Rapala bite is on, the streamer bite is also on!] But when the trout are not on the Rapala program, you have to cover a lot of water for every bite.  This seemed to be the case today, and I’m sure the snow melt, while not causing the water to become muddy certainly cooled it off enough to stop the trout from being in a chasing mood.  We broke for lunch [cold pork chop for me, bagel with strawberry cream cheese for Savannah] and made a fresh attempt, this time heading upstream from the bridge.  I scored a few more on a Griffith’s gnat, and I hooked up a nice brown on Savannah’s Rapala out of a particularly narrow and snaggy run that she didn’t want to attempt casting at, and quickly handed the rod off to her.  It was about 13”, and seeing the fish renewed her interest in getting one on her own.

We decided to head back to a big corner hole we had tried in the morning, and she covered every inch of it with spinner and Rapala without a bite.  While she was doing this, the trout were rising steady at the top end, gorging themselves on some mayflies that were hatching.  I made a few casts with a dry while Savannah was changing lures, and hooked one on almost every cast.  Savannah has caught a few sunfish on flies, but we’re never tried it on trout.  It was obvious if she was going to catch a trout today it was going to be on a fly. So we repositioned ourselves at the top of the riffle, where a short cast would put the fly over many rising trout.

I told her that it was no use to try to learn how make a good and proper cast while there are trout rising almost under your rod tip.  “Just do what you can to get it out there”, I said, and that what she did.  The casting form was bad, a couple flies got snapped off, and many strikes were missed.  BUT—two trout were brought to hand, she made the cast, hooked the trout, and brought them in herself.  None were large, and they had probably spent their lives up until a few weeks ago in a DNR concrete raceway, but we didn’t dwell on that.

Here I had hoped she would catch a fish or two on spinning gear, instead she ended with a couple on flies!

It troubles me that I am going into this trout season with a genuine lack of enthusiasm.  I’m still looking forward to walking the creeks, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, but I just know the trout catching is going to be off.  For reasons I’m not going to get into here, my two favorite streams [the Upper Kinni and the Willow] are seriously hurting in the trout population department, and it’s going to be a few years before it improves.  So for catching, that leaves the Rush, or maybe the lower Kinni.  Not that these are bad—quite the contrary, these are fantastic streams with wild trout and fishy riffles and pools.  Also an abundance of trout anglers, [and %$##&@ kayaks on the Kinni] and I hate the fact that when I’m approaching a favorite access point I have to start deciding how many other vehicles I will tolerate.  More than three or four, I’m off to the next spot.  This is why the other creeks have been so dear to me, enough fish to keep me busy, and always plenty of water devoid of other anglers.   

I know my favorite streams will come back, but in the meantime I’m going to share a few times when the fishing was truly outstanding.  I’ve had a lot of great days on the local creeks, but these are some days that really stand out.  Interesting to note that my very best, most memorable days were days I was fishing alone.

The first year of the “Early Season” [the one that would start March 1] was a great year.  I really fished a lot in those days, and two extra months equated to a couple hundred more trout than before.  I was on the Upper Kinni, it was March 20 [I forced myself to remember the date], and I think 1997.  I’m working through some favorite water with the trusty UV scud tied on, when out of nowhere there is a very aggressive rise just above me—like someone threw a baseball in the water.  Not one to switch to a dry at the first sign of surface activity, I kept dredging, and was catching a few.  The big splashes continued, and were becoming a distraction.  I stopped casting to try and determine what was happening.  I had seen a couple of bugs flying around, but hadn’t really paid much attention to them.  I soon realized that they were black stoneflies—they were starting to buzz on the surface, and I spotted a few crawling on logs.  I looked up to the top of the run I was working, and here comes a stonefly buzzing down the center of the stream [they lay their eggs this way].  SPLOOSH—the bug gets chomped by a better than average trout, and I couldn’t get the nymph, shot, and cork off my leader fast enough.  As I’m cutting off my nymph rig I am taking a mental inventory of all my fly boxes, trying to picture what I have to be a suitable stonefly imitation.  Remember, this was the first year we could fish there this early, and no one was aware that the black stoneflies were such a thing on the Kinni.  A big elk hair caddis would have to do, and I greased one up with floatant after it was tied on, and after a couple of quick false casts it was drifting toward where I has seen the last fish feed.  It hadn’t floated a foot before it was eaten, and I was soon admiring the first of many trout I would catch that day.  I didn’t count them [I always lose count after 2], but by mid-afternoon I had caught more than enough and headed home early.

Since this memorable day, I always try to get over there on a warm, sunny day around March 20.  I have hit this hatch pretty good a few times since, and I have designed a very devious stonefly pattern specifically for it.  It takes about 20 minutes to tie, but it looks really good.  And it works exactly as well as an elk hair caddis that I can tie in about 3 minutes.

here’s the pattern:

Hansen’s Ovipositing Stone 

Hook:  TMC 100; Butt: Pearl Litebrite; Body: Clipped black deer hair; Hackle: Grizzly; Wing: Grizzly hackle tips

These bugs have what appears to be a glowing white egg sac on their butt when laying their eggs

Thinking about this day reminds me of another epic dry fly day on the Kinni.  This time I was headed to the lower river, and as I crossed into Wisconsin I was anticipating my hike up the canyon from County Road F.  It was midweek, so I wasn’t worried about crowds or kayaks, and I expected to have some decent nymph fishing before some mayflies would start hatching in the afternoon.  I don’t remember the date, but it was around late May/early June in the early “Oughts”.  [I’ve been dying to say that].  I’m not known to be a particularly fast driver, but my speed definitely will pick as I get closer to a stream. I was moving right along at about seventy, anticipating a great day.   I’m always hoping for a good “inspirational” rock anthem to come on the radio to really get me fired up as I approach the stream.  On this day, Rock and Roll [part 1] by Gary Glitter came on just as the old white Chevy began the descent into the valley.  I cranked it up and cheered at the right parts until I pulled into the parking lot at the bridge.  I’ve made this hike enough times to know that it involves about 45 minutes of steady hiking to get to where I start fishing.  There is a long bluff pool with a great riffle that comes in at a sharp angle at the top.   Similar to my previous story, I started out nymphing, and they were really hitting it good.  I can still remember one that ate the fly and started jumping before I was even able to set the hook.

I fished all the way to the top of the riffle, probably caught a half dozen.  I had been noticing some fish rising a bit upstream.  I was keeping an eye on them as I headed up the path, and decided to sit on a big log laying across the stream and eat a sandwich while I watched the fish rise.  There were some mayflies coming off, I think it was the light Hendrickson hatch, and as I paid closer attention I could see that the next riffle was ALIVE with rising trout.  I was grinning a grin while I ate my sandwich, watching those trout rise, thinking about how many I was about to catch.

This next riffle where the trout were making a spectacle of themselves was really nothing special to look at. A small riffle came into a little run along the right bank, there were a couple big rocks, and it was maybe three feet deep tops—definitely not a spot you would think could hold more than a few trout.  Despite the fact that it looked like a marginal spot at best, there appeared to be at least a dozen trout rising steadily.  I had re-rigged while sitting on the log, I now had a trusty comparadun on my tippet, greased up and ready to go. After stepping in, I was hooked up within a couple of casts, and then almost every couple of casts after that. I can’t remember how many I pulled out of that little run, but it seemed like for everyone I caught, two more took its place.  It really was bizarre, because it just didn’t seem possible that there could be that many trout in there, but no matter how many I caught, they just kept rising.  I finally decided to move on, and every likely spot was the same—seemingly unlimited rising trout.  They rose steady though the afternoon, and I never saw another angler.  Throughout the day I changed flies regularly [I had to, they kept getting waterlogged from all the fish!], and I tried a little bit of everything. This confirmed to me than when trout are rising to mayflies, you just can’t do better than a comparadun.  I caught some on other designs, but nothing worked better. It didn’t even seem to matter if it was the right color or size either, as long as it was a comparadun.

It was getting later in the afternoon, and I was working my way up through what we call the “Bread and Butter” run.  There were trout rising all over the place, and I was catching them steady.  I looked at my watch and it was 5:30.  I decided I would catch five more and leave.  I forced myself to keep track of the next five I caught and then I looked at my watch again.  It was now 5:40.  I made a few more casts, caught one more, then had a smoke while I watched them rising for another five minutes.  Every run and riffle that I walked by on my hike out of the canyon had trout rising in it. I have never seen a river so alive with trout. How many did I catch that day?  The rate at which I caught the last five were representative of how the action was all day, so figure conservatively 20 per hour for five or six hours.

The Willow River has long been my favorite stream.  Light pressure, easy access, and while the trout population has never that impressive as far as numbers, due to warmer water and abundant forage, the average size can be impressive.  And this was the case on a fine spring day sometime in the late 90s.  Or early Oughts, I don’t remember.  Rarely a place for good dry fly action, the Willow’s dark waters are better suited for dredging big wiggly nymphs or swinging bunny strip streamers or buggers.  I had my favorite 6 weight rigged with a clear tip line.  The clear tip is slow-sinking, and provides just the right amount of sink for the streams around here, and it allow for the use of a shorter leader for better accuracy when casting at close range around bushes and other cover.  When the streamer bite is “on”, the exact fly hardly matters—what matters is that you cover water and show your fly to as many fish as possible.  I was using a favorite pattern that is really nothing special.  I call it the “Strip Club”, it’s got a bunny strip, lead eyes and some rubber legs. I tie this fly [and many other trout streamers] on a 4x long streamer hook, size 4.  This is more important detail that what the pattern was, or what color the fly was.  This hook is just the right combination of length and wire thickness for a trout streamer. [This is a also a good fly for steelhead and smallmouth.]

The Strip Club 

Hook:  4XL streamer; Tail: Flashabou; Body: Sparkle Braid with 3-4 sets of rubber legs; Wing: Bunny strip; Throat [optional]:Contrasting marabou; Eyes:  Medium lead eyes

There are many days on this river when I might get a fish out of every 5^th spot.  This day, every big fish in the stream wanted to play, and by the time my session was done I figured I had had landed around 18 fish.  I know, not exactly insane numbers, but the funny thing is the one I remember most was the smallest one of the day, and it was a foot long.  I chuckled when I released this guy, ‘cause he was just a baby compared to most of the other ones that day.  I don’t think I had any others under 15 inches, most were 16- 18 inches, and a couple were over the 20 inch mark. These were serious, “put-’em-on-the-reel” browns that could have just as well been measured in pounds.  Not bad for a stream 30 minutes from St Paul.

I have had other great days on the creeks over there, and I hope there comes a day when it is again possible to have a “big day”.  And to be fair, I have plenty of great memories of trout fishing where the things I remember most wasn’t the fish catching.  For some reason this memory just popped in my head—I was over there with the Gunnar, we hadn’t brought any food with us [SOP in those days], so we subsisted on berries we picked along the stream.  At one point we were both sitting on the ground off the trail, chowing all the wild raspberries we could reach.  We probably caught a few trout.

EPILOGUE

I fished on the Wisconsin creeks the other day, it was pretty warm but windy.  I visited the Rush for the first time in a few years.  First thing I see is the Red Barn Cafe has turned into a Bar and Grill.  Figures.  What happened to the big metal bridge?  I guess some would have called it ugly, the cement one that took its place is sure nothing special.  And most importantly, where did all the trout go?  I know there are trout anglers more skilled than me who are catching some fish there, but seriously—I can remember being there when a hatch was on and walking right by a riffle full of rising fish if there weren’t any big heads popping up.  On this day I was “zero for zero” after nymphing through a bunch of good water that I have caught hundreds of trout out of. All I caught were a lot of memories as I walked up the canyon.  I could tell stories about every pool in this section. Stories of fish caught, of people I was with, of bugs that were hatching, of big trout seen and big trout caught. There was a guy much younger than me working a streamer through the bottom end of a deep pool.  I really wanted to tell him about the time when I was 15 and caught a 16” brown on a black ghost streamer around the boulders at the top of the pool.  I wisely just asked how he was doing as I walked by on the well-worn trail.  “No fish on the streamer, might try nymphs”.

This is the very Black Ghost streamer, my grandpa tied it in around 1980, and it has lived in my Perrine fly box since. He used jungle cock saddle hackle for the wings, the fly is about 2-1/2 inches long

I finally came to a canyon pool where there were what were obviously tiny trout rising to tiny bugs.  I looked at them dimpling, and shuddered that it might come to fishing for them.  I fished my nymph rig through the fast water at the top and then down through the meat of the run against a bluff with a few logs thrown in for good measure.  Didn’t get a bite, and since the dinks were still rising I reluctantly re-rigged with the smallest fly in the box tied on to some ancient 7x tippet.I have never been so glad to land a five inch trout as I was when I brought in the first of a half dozen or so.  At least I wasn’t skunked.  I did catch one brook trout that was maybe 10 inches, and broke of a slightly larger fish. [I was using tiny flies on a 7x tippet, and the only 7x I had in my vest was some Seaguar that I KNOW has been in my vest since the 90s.]

I left the Rush to try a favorite “hit-and-run” spot on the Kinni, caught exactly zero.  Drove to the Willow, not really planning to fish, just to “have a look”.  I took one look at the water and knew it wasn’t going to happen.  As you may know, a dam was removed last year and this released a lot of sediment.  Now the Willow, not known for great water quality anyhow, was flowing a sickly greenish grayish tan color, with less than a foot of vis.  The Willow hadn’t been fishing well for me for the past two years, I don’t know what to make of this.  It will be a while before I go back.

Don’t get the impression that I’m only concerned with numbers of fish—I enjoy steelhead and muskie fishing, neither of which is known for non-stop action, and I’ve had plenty of nice days on the trout stream where I only caught a few fish.  I’ve just become accustomed to being able to have at least steady action on these streams.  Some days, steady may have meant five or more an hour.  Other days is might mean one ever two hours.  But I am hoping for some version of “steady”.

Any of you out there that have been fishing the local creeks for more than a few years must admit–we had it good. Those streams being what they were for the last 40 years really have a lot to do with who I am.  There wouldn’t be four fly shops in the Metro Area if it weren’t for how the streams used to be.  And I know things are cyclic.  It may take a few years, but the streams will come back.

I do know that I will be learning some new trout water in Southeastern Minnesota this spring!

“Mille Lacs” is French for “1,000 lakes”.  This is a pretty accurate description, since Mille Lacs sprawls over 132,000 acres–about the same size of 1,000 small lakes, and it has been estimated than when it was at its peak in the 80’s that the walleye population was as high as 1,200 per acre, which equated to a walleye population of over 15 MILLION WALLEYES!  Fast forward to the 20-teens, and the population has dwindled to less than a tenth of that number.  No one seems to know for sure who or what is to blame for the decline.  Could it be over-fishing by sport anglers?  Maybe spearing and netting by Native Americans?  Global warming?  Mismanagement by the DNR?  Climate change? Aliens? Invasive species? Terrorists?  I think it may be a combination of all the above. Whatever the situation, there are many thousands of Minnesotans that depend of the Mille Lacs walleye fishery for their income or lifestyle, sometimes both.  And despite the fact that there are plenty of other species of fish to pursue in Mille Lacs–fish like perch, pike, muskies or bass, it is the ‘eyes that get all the attention.

And all eyes are on the DNR when it comes to an announcement of new regs for this lake.  It wasn’t that long ago when the state’s six fish limit was an obtainable goal here.  That six fish limit was changed to four, then two, then none.  Anglers out for the abbreviated ice season this winter were allowed one fish that had to be between 18 and 20 inches.  Guides, resort owners, and other local businesses are all feeling the impact of nobody out fishing the big lake.  Spring will soon be here, and many of us are awaiting what the powers at be of the DNR have in store for this year.   Carl and I met for coffee at The Zebra Mussel Diner in Isle last week, I was eager to get some insider information about the upcoming season.  Or lack thereof.  Carl and I go way back, and I knew I could count on him to bring me up to speed. I recorded our meeting, the conversation went like this:

ME:  So Carl, a lot of folks, both anglers and business owners, are nervous about how the 2016 walleye season on Mille Lacs is going to be regulated.  What can you tell me about new rules and regs for this year?

CARL:  What makes you think I’m going to tell you anything?  My phone has been ringing off the hook with calls from actual journalists.  I’m talking about calls from people like Matt Straw, Terry Tuma, Tim Lesmeister, even Ron Schara.  RON EFFING SCHARA is calling me, and you want the scoop?  You’re buying you know.

ME:  Hey, nice to see you too.  Now you know there is no one better to get the word out than me.  My blog is read by tens of anglers, some of them even claim to like it.  I’m not looking for all the details, just give me the broad strokes, you know, the highlights.  I’m hearing grumblings that there may not even be a walleye season…is that what you want me to tell everyone—that there will be no walleye season on Mille Lacs?  Oh, and your phone is ringing off the hook?  Who has their phone on a hook?

CARL:  Calm down, there absolutely will be a season. [Then there was mumbling I couldn’t understand, sounded like he was questioning my background and education] We have come up with a new plan that is bound to increase participation, increase the walleye population, and increase income and sales for many Minnesota businesses.  After long negotiations with several Minnesota companies, Mille Lacs anglers will be participating in the newest, most progressive concept in fisheries management ever thought of.

ME:  Yeah, progressive…that’s what Minnesota walleye anglers are looking for.  Why don’t you guys just stock more fish?  That seems to be a popular default answer for many of the outspoken ladies and gentlemen I see on TV.

CARL:  We are counting on Minnesota anglers being a little more open minded.  But believe it or not, stocking more fish is part of the plan.  Stocking fry or fingerling sized walleyes has never really shown any results.  But we always knew that if only we could stock the lake with “keeper” sized walleyes, like they do with trout in the streams, there would be an immediate and drastic improvement of the walleye population.  Growing walleyes to keeper size, around 14”, has always been cost prohibitive, so it’s never been done.  Until now.

ME:  Alright, this is starting to sound good.  You will be stocking walleyes, keeper walleyes, and there will be a season.  Will Mille Lacs be open for walleye fishing when the statewide fishing season starts in May?

CARL:  Yes, you will be able to um, go out on Mille Lacs when the season opens May 14.

ME:  That is great news.  What will the bag limit and size limit be?

CARL:  This is where things start to become a little more, uh, unusual…I guess you can say the limit will be five, with no size restrictions.

ME:  Really, five?  It’s been a bunch of years since you could keep five walleyes on Mille Lacs.

CARL:  Well, I never said anything about keeping five walleyes…like I said everyone needs to keep an open mind.  Getting this fishery to rebound will take some time, even with our new exciting plan.  And if the anglers are taking walleyes out at a rate faster than they are putting them in, we will be worse off than before.  The limit will be five, but you won’t be able to keep any.

ME:  So it will be what—a catch and release season where you are only allowed to catch and release five?

CARL:  Not quite.  Our statistics show that catch and release fishing, while seemingly without impact, will be too harmful to the population. We tried to come up with a plan that would allow fishing with barbless hooks, and even though our chief consultant Phillip Washington made some convincing points as to how a barbless catch and release season would work, we ultimately decided that anglers would not be able to figure it out, so we came up with something that will be fun for the anglers and still have no impact on the fishery.

ME:  So we can’t keep any fish, can’t even catch and release fish—what can we do?

CARL:  Underwater cameras have become very popular, and we decided that it would be best if anglers only viewed the walleyes with a camera, thereby eliminating all contact with the fish.  Of course, you would be free to make video recordings of the fish you see so you can enjoy them later, or even share the clips with friends on YouTube or Facebook.  Just make sure that once you have viewed five walleyes, you quit.  The limit for this season is five walleyes, any size, but they can only be seen, not caught.  DNR enforcement will be checking the recordings on your SD cards, so make sure you don’t go over your limit.

ME:  This started out sounding so good, but now that I’ve heard all the details, this sounds like a disaster.  Won’t all those “keeper-size” walleyes you guys are stocking help out right away?

CARL:  You missed one detail.  I said keeper walleyes were going to be stocked, but not by us—it is just too cost prohibitive.  It costs about $22 to grow a walleye to 14” and stock it in a lake, and we just don’t have the budget for it.  The walleyes will be stocked by all of you—the Mille Lacs anglers.  In fact it will be required that in order to fish on the Big Lake, you must bring one [or more] live walleye from a registered vendor, and release it into the lake before you launch your boat.

ME:  [blank stare]

CARL:  I’m sure you are wondering where the registered walleye vendors will be located—we have arranged for walleye vending machines to be installed at several popular bait shops surrounding the lake, and they all take credit cards.

ME: [blank stare]

CARL:  The walleye vending machines work like this—swipe your card, select the number of walleyes you want to purchase, hold your five gallon bucket under the chute, and pull the lever—instant walleye in the bucket.  Are you OK?  You’re not having a stroke or something are you?

ME:  Oh sorry, no, that just caught me by surprise, all these regs…I was thinking I would have good news for my readers, but now…well, I’m not sure what the average angler will think of this.

CARL:  I said these new regs would be progressive.  There have actually been similar plans used in Europe.

ME:  [blank stare]

CARL:  Quit doing that, it’s freaking me out.  And a blank stare can’t be heard on your little recorder.

ME:  Alright.  So for review, there will be a season, but in that season we can’t keep any walleyes.  And during that season, we can’t actually fish for walleyes, at least not with hook and line. But we can look at them on a camera, but we are only allowed to see five a day.  And we have to bring a live walleye, one we paid for, and stock it into the lake before we can launch a boat.  So the bag limit is actually negative one.

CARL:  You got it.  We think it is going to be popular.  J.C. Munchall from Nanook Underwater Cameras has already predicted record sales of their Mille Lacs Special camera—it has built in recording and has software that will calculate the length of the walleye on camera.  A software update scheduled for release this spring will also calculate the weight.  We may as well embrace the digital age.  Walleyes Unlimited have already scheduled a “Camera Only” tournament for June, and this event could get national coverage.  Now even vegans can participate in fishing tournaments!

ME: I think these new regs will be met with…resistance.  You know these fishermen will want to have some fish to bring home once in a while.  Or do you expect all the anglers on the lake to also turn vegan?

CARL:  We have thought of that, and we want everyone to be able to have a fish fry. Whenever an angler purchases a live walleye for stocking, he will get a coupon for 20 percent off of frozen tilapia fillets at any participating grocer.  Did you know tilapia are farm raised?  Eat all you want—they’ll make more!

ME:  I’m starting to hate you.  Let’s change topics…what about the muskie management of Mille Lacs, you have to admit this fishery is very popular, and continues to bring tourism to the area. It’s one of the only things still good about the lake.

CARL:  We are absolutely going to continue with the muskie program, with a few changes.  The muskies have done well in Mille Lacs, maybe too well.  There have just gotten to be too many big muskies in the lake—did you hear about the guy that caught a fifty pounder on a fly rod?  On a goddam effing fly rod!  If there are so many big muskies in the lake that even fly fishermen can catch them, it is definitely time to scale back. We are going to revert back to stocking “Shoepack” strain muskies.  They are native to Minnesota, but rarely get bigger than ten pounds.  We feel it is a much safer choice for the lake than the giant Leech Lake strain currently in there.

ME:  I’m glad you guys aren’t in charge of anywhere I regularly fish.

CARL:  Oh, and where do you fish nowadays?   ME:  You know, the usual spots like the Miss…..uh I mean…uh, Devils Lake North Dakota, yeah that’s it.  That’s where I fish now.  Devils Lake.  Now what about the smallmouth.  You have to admit that Mille Lacs is truly a world class smallmouth fishery.  I know lots of people, myself included, that have caught smallies six pounds or bigger here.  The Bassmasters are even coming here this summer for a big tournament.  Tell me you’re not going to mess with the smallmouth.

CARL:  Yeah, we’re going go ahead and do away with all smallmouth regulations.  Starting this year there will be no closed season, no size limit, and no bag limit.  It turns out all the Iowans that come up here like to eat them, and they do spend a lot of money at the casinos.  And they can’t tell the difference between a rock bass and a smallmouth, so rather than making things more confusing for them, we simplified it.

ME:  We’re done here. Check please!

 Suddenly the room started getting wavy and spinny, a doodly-doo doodly-doo doodly-do sound filled my ears…

And then I woke up in a cold sweat…it was all just a dream!

November 23, 2015

From the offices of Specialty Products International, Latrobe, Pennsylvania

For Immediate Release:

At last a truly new and unique product for the fly fishing community, and we are extending an offer to be a part of it.
Our passion for fly fishing is like a flame that cannot be extinguished—in fact it grows larger each day, no matter the weather, no matter what is happening in our personal lives, there just isn’t anything as important to us as fly fishing. And since we are already established in the business world as masters of manufacturing and procuring unique, high quality goods, it is only natural that we expand our expertise into the world of fly fishing.
Our organization, Specialty Products International, has dedicated a considerable amount of research to this, and after many days of research, interviews, and focus groups we have settled on a product that is a long time in coming. Obviously, we are active in all the forms of social media—Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and countless message boards. One thing we have noticed is that there seems to be something that fly fishermen love more than getting pictures of their fish–it is getting pictures of themselves with the cork grip of their rod clenched firmly in their mouth, and if there’s a fish in the picture, so much the better.

It’s almost like the desire to get that cork in their mouth is why they wanted to catch the fish in the first place—you know who we’re talking about, we’ve all seen the pictures. You’ve probably even thought about getting a picture like this of yourself, heck you probably done it a time or two! Well now there’s a product to make the process better, and believe us when we say that even if you have been reluctant to put cork in your mouth before, this is sure to swing you to our side.

Allow us to introduce “Cork-Soak”, a product designed to make the already enjoyable process of having cork in your mouth even better. Cork-Soak is a flavored mist, made with the finest organic ingredients in a myriad flavors, and we firmly believe it makes having that cork in your mouth even more satisfying. Flavors include Spearmint, Cool-Ice, and Wild Berry. 

We also have a new flavor in development called “Flipster” specifically designed for the fly fishing hipster. It is a lively blend of hops, coffee, tobacco and corn. All varieties are fortified with Retsyn, for longer lasting flavor.

We noticed some anglers on line that have posted dozens of fish pics, yet they had their rods tucked out of the way for all the pictures. When asked why, one of the most common reasons was that some cork just didn’t taste all that good. Saltwater anglers in particular complained that their cork often tasted of salt and sweat.  With Cork-Soak, there’s no reason not to get on the bandwagon.
Now, when you’ve got that cork in your mouth you’ll really have something to grin about.

We know you want to show off your new rod and reel, so clench your mouth around that cork and give us a big grin. Don’t be one of those posers with your rod balanced on your shoulder for a picture—not only does it look super gay but you could drop your sweet rod and reel in the river, and then no one will believe you actually caught a fish on a fly. It doesn’t matter if your cork grip is half-wells, full wells, heck it could even be Dawn Wells for that matter, a couple of quick pumps of Cork-Soak will make it better.

Even if you cant catch a fish, don’t let that stop you from enjoying Cork-Soak
Supporters of Cork-Soak can contribute $50.00 to get in on the ground level of this product’s development.  Our expert marketing ensures that Cork-Soak will become a mainstay in the fly fishing community. Your $50 gets you a Cork-Soak starter pack, including 3 bottles of Cork-Soak, a hat, our soon-to-be-a-classic “I’m a Cork-Soaker” sticker for your car, and a permanent place on the Cork-Soak Pro-Staff.

Initially we are going to offer Cork-Soak in convenient 4 oz. bottles-just right for the vest or pack. If this doesn’t sound like enough, don’t worry–guides, Spey rod enthusiasts, and others who may go through a 4 ounce bottle in a weekend, we will have Pro-Pack 20 oz. bottles very soon.

That’s almost a foot of cork!  He’s a candidate for the Pro-Pack!

We didn’t forget your favorite four-legged fishing partner, we will be offering Cork-Soak in Snausages flavor as well

This angler had a choice between a mouthful of beaver and a mouthful of cork.  We think he chose wisely.

The link for our fundraising campaign is here http://imgur.com/gallery/wb00gXP/new

Thanks for your consideration, and be sure to email us your best Cork-Soak photos!

Ron Stablehorn, Vice President of Marketing, Specialty Products International

 So there you have it…based on what I see on message boards, this is a million dollar idea!