TR-Fishigan Opening Day

I had gone up to Grayling Michigan to recharge batteries and see some old
friends that congregate there for the season opener. I drove through rain
and endurred a chilly night Friday after attending a gathering and awoke to
a wonderful bright and cool Saturday am. The kind of day golfers like and
fishermen hate. Between driving around looking for open water and the
conditions, there was not much happening astream. Being the season opening
weekend, there was much happening off stream.

After giving up on the Ausable I drove over to some favorite Manistee haunts
but they too were fairly crowded and wading upstream a ways didn;t really
help. I had pretty much decided to chuck it and go get an adult beverage
when I drove past the river on M-72 and the parking lot was empty! I broke
out the 8' 4wt attached a Hardy and decided to walk down to the water before
putting on waders. I wasn't using my vest, just a box of hendrickson's, some
streamers and a lanyard with tools and tippet around my neck and a dead
camera in the pocket with the fly vest (no smokes).

I couldn't believe my luck, there were sporadic hendrickson's coming off and
a few good fish doing a feeding rise and many others doing the emerger type
rises. I decided to go aheand and string up the rod there and then hurry
back to the car for waders and a box of wet flies to trail off the dry
flies. As I was about to do that, three sports, properly attired came down
the path and proceeded to enter the water in front of me. They did not reply
to my greeting but one angler, forgetting how sound carries astream, made
some comment about my attire and something to the effect that I probably
stole the rod. This kind of PO'd me, especially when one stood right in
front of me and started casting to two rises.

It was obvious the two rises were dinks and they were rising like fish
keying on rising emergers often do, coming completely out of the water. But
a foot or so behind them was another fish working periodically that I had
been spying before they appeared. I watched the fish rise again but the
angler and his buddies did not do a thing to try to catch the fish. Waders
or not, Dammit, I was there first, I walked in beside him, went upstream 10
feet or so, and then cast back downsream, which made the other anglers
stop, I dropped that fly about 25' from me and two feet upstream of my
target. One quick mend over the dinks and a 14" brown took my fly ever so
gently. I landed the fish and told the guy "his dinks would start again
shortly - and they did - and that he should tie on an emerger or soft hackle
if he wanted to catch them.

Let me tell you, the Manistee in April is cold and wading wet is not advised
but I was in and it felt like there was some Karma working that I did not
want to ruin. I waded downstreeam a few hundred yards, casting only to
rises. The first seven or eight fish I cast to all attacked the fly before I
missed on the next three strikes paying more attention to my cold and
numbing toes than I was the drifts. Walking back upstream as things started
to peter out, I passed my *buddies* and smiled, asked how they did (one fish
for the group).

Getting close to the takeout, I got out, took a seat on the grass and tried
to get some sun on my feet which was working when the water surface started
coming alive again.. I got back in and caught three more fish in the 8" to
12" range when another three anglers appeared. This time two very nice and
attrative ladies and a man. The first thing that popped into my mind was an
old Emerson, Lake,and Palmer song. We were exchanging pleasantries when I
noticed a nice rise out of the corner of my eyes. I excused my self, waded
out and up about 15' and let loose a 35' cast and a drift I make a lot only
in my dreams, the fish took softly and when I lifted the rod all hell broke
loose and the hardy began to sing it's song. But the soft action rod was up
to the challenge and not wanting to chase the fish I palmed the reel such
that fish could not run out more line, I was using 4x tippet and the rod
bent to the butt but the tippet held and the fish was on the reel. I was
rewarded with a football thick 16+" Mannistee Brown.

It's too bad my camera battery insertion technique was not as good as my
fishing skills that day as the blonde angler with the nice "accessories" and
the Winston rods was going to take my picture, alas. no hero shot.

Later that night I joined some friends at a party and there were two
attractive anglers and third genttleman talking about the fool wading wet in
the Manistee who caught a nice brown. Alas they did not call him a handome
fool . I just smiled when I heard them tell the story to my friends. .