TR: In the land of bitey things.

Saturday - The bluegills bite....HUZZAH!

After much dithering about, finding canoes, paddles, PFDs, anchors, fishing
gear, loading boats on vehicles, stopping for licenses, ice, beverages,
munchies, and driving, seven of us finally gathered together at the boat
launch on a small lake about fifteen miles west of Watersmeet......and
dithered for a while longer getting everything set up.

A brisk headwind would have meant a hard paddle across the lake to get to
the desired fishing hole for those of us in the two canoes, but the 25 horse
motor on Bret's boat was more than enough to pull both in tandem behind it.
We fanned out and began fishing......the three in the big boat using various
baits and the four of us in the canoes fishing with flies. I had 17 year
old Marshall in the bow of my canoe. Ordinarily, the prospect of spending
the better part of a day in a canoe with an untried 17 year old and several
hundred dollars worth of fishing gear is not one I relish. However, a
couple hours in his company while we all got ready did much to allay my
fears. Were this an ordinary fish tale, you could all write what happened
next.....right? Well, nothing happened. He turned out to be an excellent
companion, a hard and regular paddler, an avid (if not yet very proficient)
fly fisher, amiable, cheerful, blah, blah. Go figure.

Failing to find a Pass Lake in the first fly box I opened, I
uncharacteristically opted to use something else......a black woolly worm.
It turned out to be the right choice. The bluegills were on the
beds.....and hungry.....and aggressive. The first cast netted one fish beg
enough for the basket. Two more went in while Marshall finished tying on a
classic Catskill Adams. In the next five minutes, seeing how the day was
going to go, I decided to devote myself to keeping the canoe in position and
properly oriented for Marshall to cast and fish myself only when a snarled
line or other problem put him out of commission for a while......or when a
momentary lull in the breeze made it possible for both of us to fish at the
same time. I got plenty of fishing in.

Periodic checks with the other boats confirmed that everyone was doing well.
Between us, Marshall and I caught at least 150 fish in three hours or so.
Would have been a lot more if he'd been able to keep his bug on the water
more. I finished the day with the same bug I started with. Approaching
thunder drove us off the lake at about 5:00 in the afternoon. After a hairy
ride in Bret's wake (Marshall had us snubbed up pretty close this
time.....we were riding bow high on the edge of the towboat's wake and
nearly swamped) we all gathered together back at the boat launch and headed
back to camp. It took four of us a bit over an hour to fillet 80 fish. It
took Bret about as long to cook them. It took seven of us considerably less
time to eat them.

Sunday - The flies (oh Lord, the flies!) bite.

Jay and Patty and I started out on a scouting venture in mid morning. The
object was to find some new trout water......something we'd never seen
before. Neither Jay nor I had ever fished the Silver river so we headed off
in that direction. I found a waterfall on a small feeder on the map; looked
like a half mile walk along the stream at the end of a mile long jeep
trail......just right! We didn't make it to the end of the jeep trail in
the jeep. The beavers had gotten there ahead of us. We could see the trail
continuing at the other end of the beaver dam. Okay, we hike over the dam
and continue on foot. As we geared up, the deer flies came out. And then
more came out. And more. And more. We pressed on. Eventually we crossed
a tiny rivulet far beyond where the map said the waterfall should be. We
dove into the woods and followed it downstream to a swamp. The flies
followed us......chewing all the while.

What with the heat (90 degrees F.) and the humidity, and the bright sun, and
the flies, conditions were not such that we spent a lot of time fishing.
The flies continued to get worse and we decided to retreat. It took us
nearly two hours of beating through thick brush, sliding around in mud,
swatting at flies, and progressively more colorful cursing to get back to
the jeep and get the hell out of Dodge. But, in the meantime, we had found
what promises to be a fabulous spot for big brookies in more clement
weather.....say, around September, with no sign that even Bubba has been
there!

The late afternoon was better. On the way into L'Anse to get a bite to eat
we crossed a bridge over the Falls river. Lo and behold.....there were
falls. We'd crossed this bridge before and never noticed them. After
eating we went back for a closer look. Very nice looking water all the way
from the harbor back up beyond the bridge. Jay and Patty started up near
the bridge....I elected to go in at the mouth of the stream. Caught three
tiny rainbows before coming to the plunge pool at the base of the lowest set
of falls. Hooked up a twenty inch rainbow and quickly lost it......two
pound tippet just won't do for some things.

Jay and Patty discovered that the various pools in the Falls river are a
favorite hot weather hangout for local teenagers. Oh well.....another time.

Wolfgang