Wolfgang
September 22nd, 2005, 01:30 AM
Technically, the second week in September isn't Autumn.....and 95 degree (F)
temperatures do nothing to foster the illusion that it is. But the fall
colors come early to the trees and the brookies of the U.P. And 48 degrees
on driving back from the stream to the trailer at 7:00 p.m. on Wednesday
evening and frost bitten plants on Thursday morning did much
to restore faith in seasons and latitude in the great northwoods.
Earlier.....
John, having successfully (if narrowly) escaped the sucking black hole that
is Chicago rush hour traffic, arrived around seven the previous Thursday.
Keeping pleasantries and libations to a bare minimum, we managed to get to
bed early (and undamaged) enough to drag all my **** from its various hiding
places and hit the road before 8:30. I had planned a scenic route to show
John the wonders of the Lake Michigan shore, but he was having none of
it....."northwoods fishing or bust." Nonetheless, we did make a couple of
stops....gas and groceries in Sheboygan.....pasties in Niagara (John's
first....and he liked it, Jeff!).....sunglasses and fishing licenses in Iron
Mountain, finally arriving at the Sturgeon River campground in the Ottawa
National Forest in the late afternoon. Setting up the trailer took about
half an hour. The river was low.....very low.....ominous! :(
Disclaimer: From this point on, no warrantee (express or implied) is made
as to the accuracy of either timeline or historical
detail.......um......things got kinda foggy sometimes.
I thought it would be nice for John to begin his U.P. fishing adventure near
where he had left off after our steelheading venture 4 years ago, in a
magnificent swirling pool at the foot of Agate falls near Bruce Crossing.
As I was sure that water levels would be low, I suggested that we head over
toward Fisher's shack and work our way up the middle branch of the
Ontonagon, a section of stream that fishes well under low, clear water
conditions.....a fairly rare set of circumstances due to controlled outflow
from the dam at Bond falls and high intervening clay banks that cause the
water to cloud up nearly instantly after even the slightest rain. We
stopped en route at Bret's trailer, adjacent to which he is building a fine
new house, to pay our respects. Worked out well for us because he offered
the use of his four wheel ATV to ease the pain....the CONSIDERABLE
pain....of hiking down and, especially, back up the gas line right of way
leading to the river. This is water I've fished many times before. On
numerous occasions it has produced fish in such profusion as to leave one
bored after a while. Such was not to be the case on this outing.....or at
any time during the following week for that matter. But, we caught a few
fish, despite the amazing and annoying heat. Plainly though, we weren't
going to slay them there in the middle of a sunny day in what was for all
practical purposes mid-summer.
After returning Bret's vehicle we headed over to Agate, assured that if we
weren't likely to catch many fish, we would at least stay cool in the
perpetual mist at the bottom of the deep gorge. Approaching the base of the
falls on the steep and ever more badly eroded trail, I could tell just from
the sound that there was a lot more water than I had expected. The drought
that has held the upper Great Lakes region all summer hit the U.P. hard and
Upper Peninsula Power Company which controls the outflow (much of the water
is diverted via a 20+ mile ditch to the hydroelectric dam at Victoria on the
west branch) has historically been stingy with what it allows to flow on the
middle branch. The Bond flowage (the reservoir from which the west branch
and the diversion both get their water) has been low for several years and
I'd already been told that it is now exceptionally low. Unless some new
legislation has forced a greater release on the middle branch.....and I've
heard nothing to indicate that such has happened.....the relatively high
volume is inexplicable. Whatever. We were there and so was the water and,
as I knew from experience, so were the fish. The fished remained.....mostly
undisturbed. After half an hour or so, John, admirably pliant, agreed to my
suggestion that we should hike upstream for a quarter mile, a plan devised
to show him how radically the nature of the stream changes above the falls.
I promptly proceeded to scale the rock face at the edge of the falls and,
looking back, saw that John, despite a rather dubious countenance, soon
followed.
Inspired by success in a similar situation on a stream in North Carolina,
John paused about half way up the falls to walk out and fish a pool on a
shelf. Anyone looking from downstream would have been convinced that we
were absolutely crazy (as well as some sort of supermen) cavorting in the
middle of a 40 foot wall of cascading water. In fact, the ledge is a good
40 feet wide and at least fifteen deep. From the bottom it is clear that
this is really a series of falls rather than a single unimpeded plummet but
, the view being foreshortened, it looks as if the water merely touches
briefly on small lips on the way down. Not so. Did John catch a fish? Not
so.
We hiked up along the river for a bit. John managed to refrain from fishing
here. Not surprisingly and not unusual at the top of a waterfall, the
streambed here is all bedrock with very few boulders and virtually nothing
smaller on the bottom, everything being flushed out periodically in the
spring runoff and after heavy rainfalls. A quarter mile up, at the end of
the roadside park that boarders the river, the character of the bed suddenly
changes. Lots of rocks, gravel, and sand. The banks are lined with a
tangle of alders that reach out five feet or more over both banks. There
are lots of brookies in here. Come at the right time, and they ooze out
from under the alders to take just about anything that is offered. We were
there at the wrong time.
Back in camp, we began to make plans for the next day.....explore the
Sturgeon!
Wolfgang
temperatures do nothing to foster the illusion that it is. But the fall
colors come early to the trees and the brookies of the U.P. And 48 degrees
on driving back from the stream to the trailer at 7:00 p.m. on Wednesday
evening and frost bitten plants on Thursday morning did much
to restore faith in seasons and latitude in the great northwoods.
Earlier.....
John, having successfully (if narrowly) escaped the sucking black hole that
is Chicago rush hour traffic, arrived around seven the previous Thursday.
Keeping pleasantries and libations to a bare minimum, we managed to get to
bed early (and undamaged) enough to drag all my **** from its various hiding
places and hit the road before 8:30. I had planned a scenic route to show
John the wonders of the Lake Michigan shore, but he was having none of
it....."northwoods fishing or bust." Nonetheless, we did make a couple of
stops....gas and groceries in Sheboygan.....pasties in Niagara (John's
first....and he liked it, Jeff!).....sunglasses and fishing licenses in Iron
Mountain, finally arriving at the Sturgeon River campground in the Ottawa
National Forest in the late afternoon. Setting up the trailer took about
half an hour. The river was low.....very low.....ominous! :(
Disclaimer: From this point on, no warrantee (express or implied) is made
as to the accuracy of either timeline or historical
detail.......um......things got kinda foggy sometimes.
I thought it would be nice for John to begin his U.P. fishing adventure near
where he had left off after our steelheading venture 4 years ago, in a
magnificent swirling pool at the foot of Agate falls near Bruce Crossing.
As I was sure that water levels would be low, I suggested that we head over
toward Fisher's shack and work our way up the middle branch of the
Ontonagon, a section of stream that fishes well under low, clear water
conditions.....a fairly rare set of circumstances due to controlled outflow
from the dam at Bond falls and high intervening clay banks that cause the
water to cloud up nearly instantly after even the slightest rain. We
stopped en route at Bret's trailer, adjacent to which he is building a fine
new house, to pay our respects. Worked out well for us because he offered
the use of his four wheel ATV to ease the pain....the CONSIDERABLE
pain....of hiking down and, especially, back up the gas line right of way
leading to the river. This is water I've fished many times before. On
numerous occasions it has produced fish in such profusion as to leave one
bored after a while. Such was not to be the case on this outing.....or at
any time during the following week for that matter. But, we caught a few
fish, despite the amazing and annoying heat. Plainly though, we weren't
going to slay them there in the middle of a sunny day in what was for all
practical purposes mid-summer.
After returning Bret's vehicle we headed over to Agate, assured that if we
weren't likely to catch many fish, we would at least stay cool in the
perpetual mist at the bottom of the deep gorge. Approaching the base of the
falls on the steep and ever more badly eroded trail, I could tell just from
the sound that there was a lot more water than I had expected. The drought
that has held the upper Great Lakes region all summer hit the U.P. hard and
Upper Peninsula Power Company which controls the outflow (much of the water
is diverted via a 20+ mile ditch to the hydroelectric dam at Victoria on the
west branch) has historically been stingy with what it allows to flow on the
middle branch. The Bond flowage (the reservoir from which the west branch
and the diversion both get their water) has been low for several years and
I'd already been told that it is now exceptionally low. Unless some new
legislation has forced a greater release on the middle branch.....and I've
heard nothing to indicate that such has happened.....the relatively high
volume is inexplicable. Whatever. We were there and so was the water and,
as I knew from experience, so were the fish. The fished remained.....mostly
undisturbed. After half an hour or so, John, admirably pliant, agreed to my
suggestion that we should hike upstream for a quarter mile, a plan devised
to show him how radically the nature of the stream changes above the falls.
I promptly proceeded to scale the rock face at the edge of the falls and,
looking back, saw that John, despite a rather dubious countenance, soon
followed.
Inspired by success in a similar situation on a stream in North Carolina,
John paused about half way up the falls to walk out and fish a pool on a
shelf. Anyone looking from downstream would have been convinced that we
were absolutely crazy (as well as some sort of supermen) cavorting in the
middle of a 40 foot wall of cascading water. In fact, the ledge is a good
40 feet wide and at least fifteen deep. From the bottom it is clear that
this is really a series of falls rather than a single unimpeded plummet but
, the view being foreshortened, it looks as if the water merely touches
briefly on small lips on the way down. Not so. Did John catch a fish? Not
so.
We hiked up along the river for a bit. John managed to refrain from fishing
here. Not surprisingly and not unusual at the top of a waterfall, the
streambed here is all bedrock with very few boulders and virtually nothing
smaller on the bottom, everything being flushed out periodically in the
spring runoff and after heavy rainfalls. A quarter mile up, at the end of
the roadside park that boarders the river, the character of the bed suddenly
changes. Lots of rocks, gravel, and sand. The banks are lined with a
tangle of alders that reach out five feet or more over both banks. There
are lots of brookies in here. Come at the right time, and they ooze out
from under the alders to take just about anything that is offered. We were
there at the wrong time.
Back in camp, we began to make plans for the next day.....explore the
Sturgeon!
Wolfgang