Tuesday, May 28th, 2009. WiFly has decided to “hop the border” and make an excursion or two into the U.P. The Upper Peninsula of Michigan will always and ever be more than just an adjunct to Wisconsin for me, but more of an appendage: an essential component that makes the overall experience more whole. It offers the remoteness of the mountains swathed in a range of blue ribbon water fine enough to satisfy the passion of even the most particular of anglers. And all of this a mere 4 to 8 hours away depending on your final destination.

It’s Tuesday, May 28th, 2009 and I’m off to a bit of a slow start. Rain has set in and I have yet to determine my final destination. When in doubt, head to Escanaba! It’s about 230 miles and 4 ½ hours of driving (counting a couple of quick pit stops). Once I arrive and unload some gear, I drive along the banks of the Ontonagon. My brother-in-law Chuck told me about a spot below the Bony Falls reservoir, but I simply can’t find the place.   I know I’m close and may even have found it; however the dam is open and it’s a veritable torrent down through there –completely un-fishable.

I spend the evening back in Escanaba pecking away on a couple of blog entries over a few beers – aah heaven.

Wednesday, May 29th, 2009. I pour over my maps the next morning trying to decide whether I should drive another 5 hours. There is the  East Branch of a river tucked into the far northern reaches of Lower Michigan that holds some remarkable brook trout. After much debate, I decide that it’s time to get out of the FJ and get into the water. I head to an old favorite. It’s almost a 2-hour ride from Escanaba, so I still have a little bit of a drive. In fact, Iron River would make a better jumping -off point if you’re focused on rivers like the Paint, Cooks Run, and more. Crystal Falls also has some suitable digs. I set up shop in Escanaba because it is more central to my grander plan to work my way northeast on this trip as well.  The main branch of the river that I will be fishing is a fine trout stream; however I’m eager to start up in the West Branch where I recall struggling to reach some rising fish the last time I was here. They were probably brook trout. I was working the edge of a large beaver pond and the water was too deep to reach them – or my cast was too short! With the canoe in tow, I’m sure that I’ll to be able to address situations like this with more success.I stop to look things over on the main branch at one of its few crossings.

One of the Few Crossings

It’s a favorite spot and it feels good to be back here. This main section has become more and more accessible over the past dozen years or so. The first time we slogged it back in here, it took all of the muscle that our stout 4-wheeler could muster to propel ourselves through the deep ruts left behind by the logging trucks that frequent these trails. It’s still a remote piece of water, but not to the degree it used to be. In fact, I floated this stretch back in 2005. It was a trip to remember as I frayed a muscle in my rotator cuff while trying to lower/slide my canoe down a short, fast drop in the river by using a set of ropes. There are a number of drop-offs like this downstream of here – not big enough to be noted on a map, but surely big enough to respect when approaching them in a canoe. I walked the canoe down a few fast pieces of water and I dragged it around at least one. But when I came upon the boisterous remnants of an old dam, it seemed reasonable to feed the canoe down by rope and then hike/wade the edges to go below and retrieve it below. That first float ended up being more exploratory with little time devoted to fishing – especially after that injury. I look upstream from the recently repaired logging bridge – there are some nice foam lines here and a sparse mayfly hatch is already bringing up some smaller fish, probably brook trout.

Looking Upstream From Logging Train Bridgee

The hatch is slowly increasing in intensity – it is about a #12 Ephemeralla-subvaria. This mayfly is imitated so well by the much admired Hendrickson pattern. The “Hendrickson” was popularized by Roy Steenrod who named the fly for his good friend A.E. Hendrickson back around 1918 while they sat on the banks of the Beaverkill – or so the story goes. It is one of the larger mayflies and there is nothing like a big bug to bring up some fish. I’ve also come to appreciate the ability to see and track that bigger fly on the water as I have gotten older – especially when I’m casting a bit farther with a leader that’s a bit longer to take a fish that’s a bit wary!

Ephemerella subvaria (Photo by Jason Neuswanger)

This hatch occurs from about mid-May to the middle of June up here. Although the Hendrickson fly imitates a range of mayflies of the genus Ephemerella, this river’s bugs are most likely to be of the species invaria (sulphur) and subvaria (Hendrickson). These mayflies are often confused with the Mahogany Duns that hatch during the same period, which are a bit smaller (#16) and whose genus in this neck of the woods is more likely to be Paraleptophlebia, Heptagenia or Isonychia.

Isonychia – Mahogany Dun (photo by Jason Neuswanger)

These look VERY similar to the untrained eye. One clear, identifying factor is that the Ephemerella mayfly duns have three tails while the Isonychias have two. It’s a lot easier to distinguish the nymphs than it is the adults, although the nymphs both have three tails! I see some small fish rising, both above and below the bridge. I love standing well above a river like this and watching trout come out of nowhere to snatch an insect – flashing to give away their sub-surface position. These look to be smaller fish from their behavior: darting around as opposed to holding in a particular spot and steadily rising. Or is that more the nature of a brook trout, with their splashy rises? In the time it takes me to assemble my fly rod and tie on a fly, the hatch has swung into high gear – its intensity going up multiple orders of magnitude. There are hundreds and hundreds of bugs coming off steadily and the trout are fully turned on now. I’m heading downstream to have some fun.

Ephemerella Subvaria (L) and Isonychia (R) – (photoa by Jason Neuswanger)

There’s no trail here and quite a bit of undergrowth. I pick my way along being careful to watch the ground-cover for signs of a bog. A large patch of forget-me-nots is something to watch for – they are a true “bog plant” and thrive in aquatic environments.

The marsh marigolds are in full bloom. I have always been partial to them, associating them with the euphoric solitude of a spring day on the water.

Marsh Marigolds (photos by Paul Stillmank)

I sneak downstream through the woods, coming about face as I enter the river. As I get in position, I am reminded that I will need Deet tonight – the mosquitoes have arrived!

Mayfly Dun tied by Paul Stillmank

I catch and release several 7- to 8-inch, female brook trout – beautiful and delicate. The blue halos surrounding their spots seem iridescent as I lift each from the water. I’m using my biot-bodied parachute #14 that worked so well up near Cecil, Wisconsin – it is a great imitation for the Ephemerella Subvaria, although I use it is smaller sizes to imitate the Stenonema Vicarium (March Brown) as well.

I take several more small fish before stopping to examine the area for a larger target. There appears to be nothing of true size rising here. Nonetheless, I spend an hour or so before heading on.

Delicate and Beautiful

I finally arrive at the West Branch. It makes for an interesting foray up stream: I’m barely around the first bend when I come upon a beaver dam that is impassable. I almost swamp the canoe trying to get it positioned on the other side – It’s a very large dam! I paddle on, returning just before dusk…

…Well, what can I say about the West Branch?  To sum it up in one word: beavers! There are beavers here . . . there are beaver huts, and there are countless beaver dams. They block the access of the canoeist paddling upstream. They thwart the downstream canoeist with small spill ways and sticky places to work over. I read that in the mid-90’s this was a fantastic brook trout fishery. I would have thought that the Michigan DNR would have taken better care of it! Back in Escanaba, I review my maps again. Is it possible that I should have been on the East Branch? It’s nice to know that I am still putting in my time!

East Branch (L) and West Branch (R) Beavers busy making sticky places

Beavers busy making sticky places

Thursday, May 30th, 2009. I take a leisurely morning of it, reserving myself for fishing into the evening. I head out around One O’clock with my mind bent on grabbing some grub before I head east. Lo and behold as I’m driving along on Ludington Avenue, I come across a little shop called “Gram’s Pasties” – right across from the UPS store there. I remember these beef pasties from up here – they’re fantastic. I’m offered a choice of a plain beef pasty, beef with rutabaga, or beef with rutabaga & carrot. I’ll have two, thank you very much! I go with the plain beef and the rutabaga & carrot – enough for lunch and dinner today.

A drive so pretty, I could take it every day

I make my way east and north to The River. I found it several years ago and although I can’t fully remember the details, it must have really struck me back then – I took the time to secure complete topographical maps of its full length. My drive takes me north on a long forest road – a drive so beautiful that I would take it every day if I could.

When I get to the bridge crossing my choice river, it strikes me as Hemingway trout water. Unbelievable. I gear up and head upstream. I hike along a path on the southern bank. The river lies below me to the right, about a 20 foot drop. The trail is very well groomed, being five or six feet wide and clearly used by horses. I walk as far as I can while still leaving myself a few hours to fish. I can always hike out in the dark. It’s beautifully wild and mysterious here. I am going deep into a forest to fish a new trout river – extraordinary.

As I continue deeper into the forest, I am reminded that there are wild animals in the U.P. including black bear. I come across a pair of logs that are clearly broken apart and scavenged by a bear looking for insects to eat. I recognize those markings from my wanderings in Yellowstone. I remind myself to keep my eyes and ears open. Moments later, my heart is pounding at its full capacity! A white tail deer comes charging directly at me on the trail at a full gallop, veering off less than 30 feet away. I have to tell you that if it had been a bear, it would have been curtains. I scarcely had time to get my stomach back down from my throat let alone time to think about dodging off the trail or fighting! Whew! It only took a few minutes before I began to wonder why that deer was running…or what it was running from…

Flowers of the Forest Floor

This forest is rich with sights and colors – from small, fragile flowers along the ground floor to towering pines with their heady, Christmas bouquet.

At one point, the forest gives way to a small glade filled with sun before picking up again. The sunlight feels noticeably warmer than the shadowy forest. I am overwhelmed by this forest, this path, this river….and I haven’t even fished it yet!

I finally step into the river about another mile upstream and it is absolutely delightful: tannin colored water; sand, gravel, and cobblestone bottom; boulder strewn. The brook trout here are fat little square tails with very stark vermiculate markings – striking.  There are several light colored Hendrickson #12’s flitting about and there are a few caddis on the water as well.

U.P. Brook Trout Caught by the Author

The hatch picks up, but there are no fish rising. Why? This is super trout water. Perhaps an earlier, more prolific hatch occurred and the fish are gorged. I have actually experienced this first hand before. One time, my brother and I were fishing in the Two Hearted drainage and a hatch of truly large Brown Drakes came off – not Hexagenias, but Drakes. Brook trout were rising everywhere. The fishing was good. Then it all stopped. Not the hatching, but the feeding. The hatch continued for some time, but the fish stopped rising. Completely. Big bugs drifted by – a flotilla of them. The trout were down – presumed to be gorged on these big, meaty insects that continued to come off all the way back to the point where we had gotten on the water. And that was a long way!

I continue to work my way back toward the bridge and then pause there in the dark to gather my thoughts. I’ve caught a handful of brook trout – mostly on a PPB. I’m not sure where the brown trout are – I have to presume that they are out cruising the depths now, which is more their way. I had switched over to a cone-head muddler for a period of time as I tried to plummet the depths for a bigger fish; however the depth of the water had me concentrating more on staying dry than fishing. This is really deep water and even though the reading material says that it’s 85% wade-able, I’d put it closer to 50% at this time of year. I’m a bit damp, but not soaked, from working some deep spots. This absolutely merits further investigation and I’ve got to believe that this would bring up some much bigger fish during the more sizeable hatches of early summer: Hexagenia-limbata (“the Hex”) and Siphlonurus – occidentalis (Gray Drake) are reported to inhabit these waters as well. This River is nothing short of mystifying. The level of fish it holds I can only guess at.

As my eyes lift to look upstream, the soft periwinkle glow beyond the pines hints at the fact that the sun has slipped below the horizon just a short time ago. Birds call out triumphantly – perhaps exuberant in their own feast on the hatches at end of the day.  This is a river that needs to be explored in a canoe I think. Perhaps later this summer. Or perhaps during mid-June of next year at a time when the bigger hatches reign. Yes, I think I’ll return here to float this river and see what it has to offer.

Friday, June 1st, 2009. Well, I’m on my drive back to Milwaukee – very hard to leave that Indian River behind and I wonder what other undiscovered gems that I might have spent time exploring. However, I truly miss my family and my mind is bent on the weekend and our spring garden plan.

I spent last night looking for some Guinness, but never found any. I wanted a Guinness and a pizza; however when I stopped by several small pubs, they were no longer serving food as it was already past 10 p.m. In fact, it was already pushing midnight. And, of course, I wasn’t going to find a pizzeria serving Guinness. Along the many stops I made, someone referred me over to Mueller’s Pizza on Main Street – I believe that was Ludington Avenue yet – in the middle of the downtown district of Escanaba. It became a very entertaining evening once the bars started to close at 2 a.m.  People started to roll into Mueller’s. Everybody to the individual was completely drunk except for me. I had some very entertaining conversations including one with a guy named Joe (of all names) who tried to convince me to buy Mueller’s Pizza from “Nick The Greek” as he referred to the owner. He spent most of the evening coaxing me in that endearing dialect that is so much the U.P.

So I spent the wee hours chatting with those folks and rubbing elbows with the locals. It was quite good. I got back to my lodging around 4 a.m. and took a full night’s rest – packing it up before noon and getting on the road. On the drive back, I had to mull over my “challenge” for the rest of this season. I absolutely love this river, but I am already anticipating an old favorite in the Nicolet National Forest this next week. However, I realize that I have yet to wet a line on Timber Coulee Creek this year. Do I go back to St. Croix County and fish the new sections we discovered there? And what about the new tributary water we fished out that way? There were some pretty nice sized fish there. I haven’t really gotten north of Highway 10 yet either – between the Hunting River, the Prairie River and the Wolf River – and with the U.P. in the mix, it’s difficult decide where to spend this next weekend. The Bois Brule trip is coming at the end of June and I have another down weekend to spend with the family before that trip. So I have some thinking to do before deciding where to spend what looks to be one of the last weekends that I will be able to spend in the field. There’s so much water and so little time…