Cold Frame


[picture above was just after putting frame out - nothing really bursting forth yet]

[more recent pic of lettuce]

Recipe:
Two treated 2x8s recycled from dismantled deck
One storm window from KLW's pile of extras
Three brass hinges saved from door replacements at previous residence
A good number of wood screws, all found in dumpster

We've had some decent cold spells, frosts and even a couple inches of snow. Despite that, the lettuce and spinach inside the frame are doing very well. A few days after putting it out, I measured at 630 AM an air temp of 39 F, and a temp inside the cold frame of 50 F. By now it doesn't provide that differential, but apparently it's enough cover for cold-tolerant plants to flourish. I've got beets in there too - they look okay but their fate is unclear at this point. Probably pick some lettuce this weekend. Extending the season. Can use the device in spring next year too.

Walnuts

It's fall now and there's a little lull here with respect to fishing. Stream trout is over. Water is getting to be too cold for carp. Maybe one day in the coming weeks I'll look after some fall smallmouth. Not sure. So, a person turns to a little thinking and decides to share things like this following post. It may be useful for folks interested in hunting/gathering/gardening - a group that tends to intersect well the fishing population.

Our backyard is defined by a large black walnut tree - Juglans nigra. The tree poses a significant problem: it uses a natural herbicide to discourage growth of a range of plants beneath or near its crown. Some notable positives though: shade is provided for most of the day in summer; dead branches are dropped, providing kindling for bonfires; good habitat for birds and bugs; husks can be used to make dye; green branches can be made available for carving; many pounds of nuts are produced each year.

A person with a walnut tree could moan that it's messy and shady and tough on tomato plants. Staining blobs of nut husk on patio, clogging lawnmower blades and smelling funny. Always have to pick up sticks. Rake leaves. I figure though that when a person is presented with a food source in his own back yard he shouldn't complain about any related hassle or connive with some sawyer to sell his soul in the form of rough cut lumber. Rather he should work out by trial and error and research some means of making use of the protein. It would be foolish of me to go buy nuts at the store just after using my motor vehicle to collect up these offered nuts and take them to the city compost pile.

In fall of 2007 and 2008 we tinkered with the fruit of the tree a bit and ate a few. No real concerted effort was made until this year though.

I decided to let the nuts be as they were on the ground - I just herded them into a corner and allowed the wind and water (and even the fly larva) to eat away at the husks for me. This worked well - it allowed me to easily crumble away the husks in a bucket of water using no tool at all. Much preferred to the labor-intensive methods aimed at removing the husks while still green.


To avoid molding, the "residual husk" must be removed from the nut. When the husk comes off while green, this task is difficult. But it seemed to me that when the husks were degraded and disintegrated by the elements, it was pretty easy to clean them by simply agitating a mass of nuts in a five gallon bucket with some water. Just enough water to make a thick slurry to keep the nuts abrading against one another. That abrasion seemed to wear off the residual husk pretty well. I just used an old shovel handle and really got them whipping in that bucket.


I read that after cleaning, a person could set the nuts on a screen in a garage, or put them in a gas oven (only pilot light on) to dry the exterior. This step was my downfall last year - I stored them in a poorly ventilated container and they molded. So this fall I put them in my food dryer and turned it on over night. Next morning they were clean and dry, as far as I could tell.


They are now curing in burlap sacks and onion bags. It seems like popular opinion is that they should cure for ~0.5-2.0 months. I ate one the other day and it tasted pretty good. Next challenge is determing the best method for removing meat from shell. Winter task.

Some good looking nuts:

Wally the Walnut Tree:


If anyone out there has good experience and notes on black walnut harvest, do speak up.

Fall Harvest

A week or so ago the forecast called for frost, so we pulled the plug on the remainder of the gardens: ran out as night fell with Danny and proceeded to pick anything edible that was still hanging on. Many green tomatoes. Reading up now on best uses for those. Following morning the plants were droopy and sad looking - bent over their cages and stakes in despair at season's end it seemed.

Summer Harvest

Things that worked:
new location for vegetable garden - away from walnut tree
organic blood meal as fertilizer
cherry and grape tomatoes
green peppers
holy mole hot peppers [not that hot though]
moving the rhubarb
buckthorn trellises
trellising of main grapevine
lettuce & spinach

Things that were marginal/decent:
pumpkins, squash, zuke
big tomatoes
new locations for lagging grapevines
transplanted blueberry bushes
newly planted raspberry patch
green beans - good but we left many on vine too long
beets

Things that failed:
carrots (not sure why but have some ideas)
cucumbers (shaded out by tomato plants)
starting plants from seed in spring - utter failure

Informed trial and error will always work out better than the individual genius planner - someone said that just the other day and that is the mode we employ in the garden. Take notes and do better next year.

Odd as I am sure it will appear to some, I can think of no better form of personal involvement in the cure of the environment than that of gardening. A person who is growing a garden, if he is growing it organically, is improving a piece of the world. He is producing something to eat, which makes him somewhat independent of the grocery business, but he is also enlarging, for himself, the meaning of food and the pleasure of eating. The food he grows will be fresher, more nutritious, less contaminated by poisons and preservatives and dyes than what he can buy at a store. He is reducing the trash problem; a garden is not a disposable container, and it will digest and re-use its own wastes. If he enjoys working in his garden, then he is less dependent on an automobile or a merchant for his pleasure. He is involving himself directly in the work of feeding people.

- W. Berry, Think Little, ~1968

Door Closes on Stream Trout 2009

Sunday morning, September 25th I was looking for something – some appropriate act to close out the 2009 trout season. The catch and keep had been done for a while by then, and I hadn’t been out in weeks. If I remember correctly the last outing was back in mid-August: tricos. That was not to be matched and I knew that. So – no harvest and no hatch. In spite of those constraints, some little deal was necessary.
If you were to look on the blackboard in my shop, you’d see a heading that says “HIT HARD” – meaning fish a lot at these streams (listed below) in 2009. Right next to it is a heading that says “EXPLORE.” The HIT HARD list, at this point is kind of laughable. I didn’t hit anything hard. And when I did fish, I gravitated to the Root River system. The call of that river is pretty strong and its tractor beam landed on me this year. Kind of drew me in and enchanted me a bit, which was welcome and very cool. As I sit and type here, I can barely recall any outings in the Whitewater basin, save a few early deals – winter mostly. Likewise for one of my favorite streams (that I’d included on the HIT HARD LIST): before Sunday, September 25th I’d fished it half-heartedly for 2 hours. So that’s where I went. I closed out 2008 on the same stream. It offers a lot: brook trout, eater brown trout, big brown trout. My plan was to fish ~700-1100, but I found that around 1000 I had everything I’d come for: good number of fish, quite a few brook trout, a lot of fall air on my face, thoroughly numb feet, and a somewhat clear mind. So – at 1000 I walked out of the stream and drove home.
Here a few notes:
(1) Before my feet touched the water, I flipped a nymph rig into the top of a hole not more than 20 feet from my parked car. First cast brought out a pretty little brook trout.
(2) Standard nymphing was solid.
(3) Hooked one brown ~11-12” that immediately plunged deep into the pool and went unseen for ~20 seconds. It’s a reflection on the Sage 2 wt: more mystery, challenge and feeling has been added to trout fishing since I received that rig. As that fish dodged and pulled just after hooking, all kinds of images were flashing through my mind: big fish maybe. Pretty cool.
(4) Good number of brook trout were caught. Colors are amazing – nature’s canvas.
(5) As I stood nymphing one really good hole, I noticed upstream that a fish was rising fairly steadily. Not in one place – kind of roaming and violently slashing. In the air was a sparse assemblage of bugs of various species/sizes: some big crane flies, some micro sized, pale mayflies and a few in between. I had given all my high-vis tricos to my neighbor. I think those would have worked well. Instead, I pulled out a parachute ant with an orange post – thinking I’d just put a black body of ~ #16 out there. Right on. The strike was applied with conviction, and I landed what I figured would/should be my last trout of the day.
(6) Couldn’t resist swinging a bugger in a big pool on the way back downstream though. Caught one ridiculously short-mouthed, long-bodied female brown on ~third cast.

BWCA Corps of Discovery

Motley bunch indeed.

Finally finished the BWCA post below. Sorry for being a loser-blogger.

Driftless Booty

Poultry Planning

Slow Food event at a local chicken farm. Boys wanted to take chickens home that very day. More of a discussion and planning opportunity though.













Current state of the chicken run in the backyard. Everything but the chicken wire is salvage material. Figured I'd better take a pic because KLW might come down this week and knock out a good chunk and I wanted to capture progress to date.

BWCA 2009

Day One: the paddle-in, set up camp, evening fishing day:

On this day we were fortunate to find easy weather: no rain, a gentle SW wind pushing us toward camp, and moderate air temps. Can’t say for sure, but we pulled ashore sometime in the early afternoon. Notable was the absence of folks at camp sites and on the water: almost eerie to find the lake so empty. We liked it though. Almost hit a 24 hour period of seeing not a soul. This was somewhat of a surprise to us, as we figured, being around a holiday weekend, we’d see significant traffic. So we got the “best” site on the lake and proceeded to frame up our existence for the coming days. This first outing always provides the prelude to the hard core fishing: a short evening bit in pursuit of dinner. We paddled out to the same water that we’ve been fishing for years (some (one) of us for 25 years) and proceeded to bump quite a few fish. The bait guys caught numerous walleyes. I caught one fish (which is the approximate expectation), in a fashion to be appreciated: saw some fleeing little whiney baitfish skitting around on the water surface… positioned canoe and plopped this black and yellow bit on the exact spot… pictured smallie came out and folded on it just as it hit the water. Audience applause. Taped at ~16.5”. Great start, and enough for me. Moon came up and pushed the sun down on the other side. Home to our first shore lunch.



Day Two: a numbers deal:

Up early in the mornin’, dressed in black. Someone said that once and it was roughly what we were up to: early birds after some worms or fish, etc. Number one rule: no breakfast. You don’t stand around sipping while the fishing is good. I suggested this be our camp rule and the guys complied. Fish 615-900 and eat your breakfast later. Rule. Take your time on the consumption part later on when other folks are getting sunburn and no fish.

First pics are view from bed: cool night allowed a person to skip the tent. Nice viewscape on rising from a decent slumber.

So, first to the big bay, bigger fish water – hoping to get into just a few. On this morning the bait guys did very well: one got a limit of walleyes, and all in all they busted quite a few fish. Made a meal (speaking of meal fish, I forgot to mention in Day One write up that the first fish I caught was a walleye that we kept and ate – that was to be 50% of my meager contribution to the food supply). I waded the shore in pursuit of the athletic denizens. Got two great takes on poppers right away – the teenager fish – the 14-15 inchers… jumping and leaping and grabbing and folding on the popper. Outstanding. Once the sun came over the trees, switched to clouser and got one beauty fish. Stalked the shore further (quite a bit of time between fish in some cases) and later got another on a black leech. These smallies hit the streamers as they are sinking – right away – they don’t eat them in mid-retrieve. Stopped there: four smallies. In to eat. Then, after significant lounging and enjoyment of some peace, hiked back to the “numbers bay” – where a guy can find great action with the 12-15” crowd. And that was the case: three LMB and 12-15 SMB I think, nearly all on poppers. Most were ~12-13” but a handful were around 15”. Brought a bamboo rod back there to mix things up a bit. Interesting to note that the smaller poppers were clearly more productive than the bigger models. Back to the big bay – can’t recall for sure as I’m typing here, but I am 99% sure I got skunked in the evening – safe to say, because evening fishing sukked all around, and particularly for me. No big deal though, the day was what it was: good.








Day Three: relaxed mode starts at 8:04 CST

No, no the big one, big one! – Meriadoc Brandybuck

This day started out like the previous – guys busting fish with worms, and me taking a smallie or two on poppers, wading the shore. Fine morning. Then, as the sun crept a little higher it entered my mind that a person should gravitate toward those areas of water that are still in shadow. I left the oft-fished location then, and threw some casts in another part of the bay. After a short time I was lulled into carelessness… and I missed a nice take in the shallows. Few more minutes went by and I got bored… thinking the morning had petered out, so I figured I’d try some different popper patterns – big, small, deer, foam, etc. Out of my shallow-bay box I pulled a little red and white popper with a black buck tail. It’s an old fly – been given to me by a coworker, who had inherited a tackle/fly box from her father. Try it out was the thought. Sticking with the subtle approach. Beautiful casts – absolute joy to cast those little things because they don’t foul you up at all – casting the line only and the grace is apparent. I could shoot that thing to the point of using nearly all the line (didn’t do that too often though because at that distance it can be hard to put a good hookset on a fish). Anyway, right around 8:04 AM I put that little popper out in front of me – casted out into deeper water – right where I figured the depth ranged from 8-10 feet. Used the much-written-about approach of plopping, sitting, sitting, twitching, waiting, sitting. After a long spell of sitting, a mouth appeared at the water’s surface and sipped that popper. Much like a trout would sip a fly. Gently sipped it. I set the hook. Right now I distinctly remember wondering what size of fish had taken the popper. Kind of cool because on the crashing takes you get a glimpse at the outset. In this case though, no glance. Mystery and I liked that. Didn’t last long though because after a few seconds the fish catapulted through the atmosphere and I saw a big head and big gills flared. About then I got excited and started shouting a lot: Jes** this and Mary Joseph that, etc. Got pretty excited, but played that fish to hand with my mates laughing at me and looking on. I think the fish jumped 2-3 times and staged a good battle over all. Near the end, she ran into my tangle of fly line and actually went between my legs. For a second I feared it was over – I imagined the popper rubbed off on my waders and the fish disappeared. Horsed her out of there though, and reached my thumb into that big ol’ mouth. Believe it or not this fish was actually difficult to hold onto – even after grasping in the “paralyzed bass” vertical grip she gave some solid shakes and I almost dropped her a time or two. Took a few photos and measured on my canoe paddle. On that paddle I have exact demarcation for 12”, 18” and 20”. Here is the description of the measurement: I laid the fish on the paddle, holding by the bottom lip. The tail, without pinching together, clearly flopped past the 20” mark. A rough extrapolation suggested 20.5”. My boat mate figured maybe that, given the tail wasn’t pinched and I was holding the lip a bit in front of the paddle, it was 21”. Not sure, but my three-part conclusion is this: (1) longer than 20”, (2) rounded to the nearest inch 21”, (3) could have been 21”. A lot of text about one fish is what we have here, but it approximates the level of fascination achieved by catching and holding a fish of such note. You see the scar in the pic – there was a symmetric mark on the other side: figuring an eagle tried to pick up this fish, only to find the mass a little too much maybe. Not sure. Don’t see many herons up there though.

So, after that – it was relaxation mode. By 8:04 AM on the second day of fishing I’d already caught more fish on poppers than I did over the entire 2008 trip, and I’d caught the biggest smallie I’ve ever held… also the largest smallie KLW has seen come out of that lake in 25 years of fishing it. Icing from that point on is what I figured. So for the middle of the day we walked back to a small lake and caught a few smallies… lounged at a campsite and putzed a bit. Eagle hung out in camp and took a walleye corpse. Night came when it was supposed to and closed the curtain on a memorable day.

It's sometimes hard to capture the essence of a fish in a picture. Here is the visual reference: look above at the 14-15" taken early in the morning, and note human hand as comparison - thumb in mouth, fish mouth size, etc. Now look down at the big fish and note the same visuals. Here is my response on making this comparison: pffffft, holy shi*t man!










Day Four: Solid Numbers

The delay in finishing this post has clouded my memory a bit on the precise details of each day. This I recall though was a normal morning: catch 1-3 fish on poppers on the big lake. Very good. Leisurely late morning - probably whittling a bit. Maybe took a swim this day. Then back to my favorite shallow bay for some solid numbers fishing: run a little circuit and catch a bunch of 12-15" fish on poppers; sit on shore for a while while the circuit resets; run it again. Got a visit from a couple of campmates - that was cool. They saw some solid topwater action and I think they had good conversation between the two of them. Bait guys did fine on walleyes, as normal. Safe to say we ate a lot of fish.

Note background in the one pic below - catching fish in a shallow, vegetated bay. Best action is where the mouth of the bay opens up into deeper water.








Day Five: Loafing

The mornings were pretty much clockwork - never got blanked on topwater (as opposed to the evenings, which were generally poor). So this final full day of fishing began with that: nice fish on standard poppers. Early morning light didn't make for a good photo I see now. I walked around for the body of the day - feeling like I ought to fish, but not really wanting to... I figure most things regarding fishing had been done and the drive was a little lacking. I think on this day we made a lot of tinder by way of whittling and we may have staged some good discussion there in camp. When night got on, we paddled up into a place I'd not really explored much and saw some interesting sights: pike holding, turtles sunning and Mr. Murray catching a good number of fish, including several LMB and a chub (odd). We targeted northern pike, and I got a good take on a popper that I know was a pike, but she came unbuttoned after just a few seconds. I couldn't get really excited about esox for some reason. Obligated to fish for them though it seems. At least for a bit.




Day Six: The Exit

Being that we have families and folks that we miss, we decided we ought to leave and make our way home. As ceremony has taken place in past years - we caught some fish in the early AM, made a final breakfast of pancakes, and proceeded to break camp. For the clouser minnow the trip ended well: one each of smallie, wallie (accidents happen) and northern pike (baby). As we had for the entire trip, we found favorable paddling conditions on this day, and we powered our way out with no incident.

The walleye pictured below had the misfortune of being caught on this day - meaning his fillets would keep for the paddle out, until ice could be applied. The fish, along with another generously offered by Mr. Murray, was later eaten by my family. Young James replied, when asked how's the fish?: It's splendid.


Summary: Misc Pics and Notes

Loved the case. It was good to have all flies in one enclosure, as opposed to smallie box, pike box, topwater box. It fits well in a day pack too, which is cool.

Ultralight: flies in hat, lanyard, rod in hand. Stalking mode - very cool.

Four tents we had, for six guys.

This cup, through the course of the trip, contained water, milk, beer, coffee, hot chocolate. Solid contribution for a good piece of gear.


[this last photo courtesy of A. Murray]

A few notes, in no order:

(1) Don't be bound to a boat when fishing the BWCA. Stalking the shore, IMO, is much better. Cover more water, maintain better control over casting radius, and flat out cast better with your feet on the ground.
(2) Overline all fly rods you bring up there. Much better casting and shooting those big flies.
(3) Don't underestimate the value of small poppers.
(4) Don't eat breakfast or have coffe before fishing. Get up and go out. Come back around 8 or 9 AM with a good start to the day under your belt.
(5) You need three flies: poppers, clousers and leeches. A guy should bring more than that (all boxes that make the trip should be full), but you can do really well with those three patterns alone.
(6) Fly reels are not necessary in the BWCA beyond the duty of holding line. There are no fish that make runs. The main reel I used was an old Okuma given to me by John Montana - the drag leaves something to be desired. Didn't matter. If you have a nice reel, bring it. Don't go out of your way though.
(7) In low-light conditions, you can raise smallies to poppers even in 8-10 feet of water.
(8) When in the BWCA, fish, but take time to let things be for a while too.

Thanks to the good gentlemen who made this another memorable trip; thanks especially to The Director. And I love you Micropterus dolomieu.

Just In Case







With all those flies, you'd think that smallies were likely to eat 30 different forage species. It's actually more like 2-3. The poppers and the clousers will be worked hard and they'll come back with ranks thoroughly decimated if not completely eliminated. As for the others - the philosophy there is that once you have the case in the pack, it makes sense to fill it up.

What I like about this is that so many folks have their hands in the deal: WFF, John Montana, my neighbor MB [flies], my family [tying materials], The Roughfisher [flies and the case]. So when I look down at that plethorical selection I see all of that and when a mouth closes on one of these deceptions all that will play out just right. So thanks folks.

A final technical review note: the case is sweet - thanks to Roughfisher for passing that on as an undeserved bonus.

BWCA. Anti-un-disembark on the morrow. Back soon.

One Fine Day

This past weekend was partitioned into fairly distinct segments: (1) Saturday: the family day – parties, BBQ, etc., (2) Sunday: guys day out at the Steele County Fair (all day with the boys: 9:00 AM to 8:30 PM observing their delight at the various spectacles to be found at a fair), (3) Monday: fishermen’s day on the water. The latter-most item is of most concern in this forum, and therefore items #1 and #2 will be left to imagination until further notice.

Monday was a planned split: morning trout and afternoon carp. Those were the goals. The gentlemen engaged on this day included Winona Fly Factory and The Roughfisher. Good company. Following is a brief recounting of the day’s happenings.

The Morning

The literature suggests that as evenings cool, the trico activity shifts forward in time with respect to a day’s worth of hours. Meaning, while Canning Chronicles and I found great action starting at 7:30 AM a few weeks ago, a person should now expect to find bugs in the air later on… “Late morning” maybe. That was our figuring, according to what we’d heard and read – primary sources being the Midwest Fly Fishing Journal and the local TU forum. I believe I noted somewhere that an air temp of 75 F was a pivot point for the tricos – that air temp may signal the males (that have hatched the night previous) to congregate in a cloud over the stream and wait for their prospective mates to make an appearance. Somebody check me if I’m wrong there, but I believe that is the case. So we’ve got males waiting around for the females to hatch and join them… and literally join them… then mating in the air… to be followed by death and corpses of bugs floating on the water. It seems that the trout key on a few different things throughout this fairly short affair. Our observation has been that the best action has been during the spinner fall. That’s what we were looking for here. To err on the early side when fishing is acceptable… while to be late is the making of regret and a bad work week spent thinking about how you should have been somewhere that you weren’t at a given time. So, even while we suspected we’d be well ahead of the primary action, we left around 5:30 AM and had boots wet at maybe 6:30 or 6:45. We were greeted by occasional rises, but no bugs in the air. Suspicion was that maybe the fish were eating hatching females, but who really knows. The air was blank. We stood there by the bank on one stretch – waiting. Checking rocks for bugs, WFF tracking water temp… I was tracking air temp… we had a little coffee and indeed found that we had to wait for a good couple hours before things really got going. Sure enough, a cloud of tricos built at an exponential rate above the stream. Air temp was in the 70s when the fish started rising pretty steadily. At that point the cloud of bugs was almost comically extreme. The first spinners on the water roughly signaled the start of the fishing. I took a pic of the first trout caught, to record a time stamp: 9:19 AM. So it was somewhat of a wait. Granted, we could have nymphed up a load of fish or ripped streamers around before the action started… But we were both content to watch this all unfold. And once it had unfolded, it became a matter of a simple equation: right fly + feeding fish + decent presentation = guaranteed take. We made good on that equation for a couple hours – taking turns in a nice fishermen’s rhythm. We used primarily a #22 CDC winged spinner pattern with an orange post. It was eaten very readily. We tried a poly wing pattern and that was decent but it seemed maybe it sat too high on the water: these corpses are all beat to hell – in fact “spent” is the descriptor – the CDC seemed to drift in the film better. That’s the story. There are a few notable notes:

(1) The first bug corpses I saw on the water were in fact a pair: male and female bound together in the film. I gave a little shout to WFF to “check it out” – being a bug guy, he proceeded to scoop them up for a closer look. While in hand, the female trico deposited eggs on WFF’s finger. That’s about as good as it gets for anybody who wants to fully observe this life cycle. We manged some pics.
(2) Early on we were catching a lot of ~7” fish. About half way through the action, this shifted and every fish was ~11” long. Of those, we kept our share. This is likely the last catch and keep outing for me this year… another trout meal or two was in my plan.
(3) We swapped rods for this outing – so I got to fish a new Sage Flight 3 wt. Very cool rod. It was remarkable to me how much more power it has than the 2 wt rig I’ve been fishing (in part due to the overloading with 4 wt line). It layed out really well and I enjoyed fishing it.
(4) We both got one brookie on the #22 trico pattern. Cool.
(5) I don’t know how many fish we caught, but it was a lot.
(6) USGS site at SF Zumbro says air temp hit 75 around noon on Monday. This seems to agree with the thermometer I was using – said we were in low 70s during the best action, leading up to noon.
(7) After my last “turn” I broke down my rig and watched WFF attempt one more hook up. By that time, the bug cloud had disappeared and the action was waning. Still occasional rises though, so the one-more-fish-syndrome was intact. I sat down on the river bank, with the 11:30 sun coming full on. I drank the last of the coffee and watched this guy cast at fish. After an experience like that – watching the cycle unfold and then horning in there with your own creations and ideas and tactics… It’s just so damn sappy to write all this stuff but a guy has to try: it’s a feeling of fulfillment. And the fulfillment is clearly not to be gained simply by catching the fish. That last act is not the act. And it is for that reason that the method and the approach are so important. We didn’t come to this place to “catch a fish” or catch a big fish at whatever cost, using whatever method. We were called to this reach of river by a fascinating occurrence: a hatch and subsequent mating of a bug that neither of us really knows much about but is surely part of a history of this landscape that goes back thousands of years. It’s for that reason that we didn’t use a single nymph, split shot or indicator. “Results” were not the result we were pursuing. I guess that’s enough on that – sap is getting deep here and I’m sure if you know what I mean… you know what I mean. In closing – I sat there on that bank – full-on grinning. A satisfied grin. I didn’t feel “victorious.” That’s the wrong word. I felt fortunate – that’s the best way to put it. I had exclaimed to no one in particular on multiple occasions how fascinating this place is… and that was what I was thinking as WFF broke down his rod and we walked out.

Waiting and looking...

Egg-laying... wow:



Typical of the fish we were catching...

Check the cloud:











The Afternoon

Being the thoughtless bastards that we are, we were an hour late meeting The Roughfisher on a major warmwater system up north somewhere. The prose will be somewhat lacking here, in accordance with the quality of interaction we had with the fish we were seeking. The short story is that we couldn’t connect. We nymphed a dam that is typically a lock for a good mixed bag of fish… Roughfisher managed a handful of fish and WFF and I got blanked. Immediately after the dam, we sought out some sight fishing, only to find the pond – the first stop – drained. Ha! Some sort of theme was developing and we recorded a second strike. On to some more stop-and-go sight fishing – we saw a fair number of carp, now that I think back on it… but none were in really good position and none were exhibiting strong feeding behavior. Finally, at our last stop Roughfisher connected with a carp, only to suffer a pop-off. WFF and I picked up a few fish – pesky walleye and bullheads… and finally we just called it. Enough was enough. The highlight of this deal wasn’t the fishing, but rather the company. Good to hang out with a couple of devoted fisherman. WFF and Roughfisher completed some shady transactions regarding various paraphernalia. Mr. Roughfisher flat out gave me a streamer suit case for use during the coming BWCA trip… geez, man. He left a few of his quality streamers in there too. Geez. It was cool to look at all his gear. He was fishing a two-handed rod – interesting to observe that technique. So hell – WFF and I were riding a high all day, provided by the morning. We couldn’t channel that on to the third guy in our party though: Roughfisher was not guided to any caught-carp by we locals. Second time he’s come around and I’ve lead him to dogmeat. He’s a good sport about the whole deal though. Next time.

Best thing about the dam we fished: leaving...



These guys can tie. And they deal flies... One of those suitcases is now in my basement (thanks again).