Fichigan

Small Stream Trout fishing in Michigan

Parade

Parade by Bruce McCombs

A short while back, in a post about King Kong, I mentioned that I would like to donate a Bruce McCombs’ etching to the Kentwood Library. It took a bit of doing but thanks to some very helpful library staff it now hangs in the children’s area on the first floor, exactly where I had hoped it would go. This etching has something for everyone: kids, teens, adults and seniors. It depicts, in amazing detail, a downtown parade with giant cartoon character balloons. Photos do not do it justice. It must be seen in order to appreciate what the artist accomplished. Hopefully it will inspire kids and teens to take up art.

October on the Pigeon

There’s a section of the Pigeon River up near Vanderbilt that stays open year round but with some restrictions for keeping trout. The Pigeon winds through some very remote country with a a great mix of gravel bottom and sand bottom areas. In the late fall large brown trout move upstream to spawn and it is a chance to catch (and release in my case) a trophy fish. I rose early Monday morning and made the four hour drive.

I could see from weather reports and the DNR daily report on stream conditions (right hand column) that the river was going to be high. I thought by the time I was up there the stream water level would drop. Instead, the river was very high and carrying a lot of mud making it resemble a moving, watery vanilla milkshake. I had never seen a river look quite like this.

When I dipped my lure in the water in totally disappeared six inches down. So, not good. It would be nearly impossible for fish to see the lure. I put on my biggest, flashiest #13 silver minnow and started casting. There’s a good sandy stretch that Feral, Natch and I have all caught good fish and that was my destination.

I managed to get into the stream just above a beaver dam but crossing to the other side where I could place a few critical casts was impossible and dangerous. If I was not alone I might have chanced it.  So I backtracked out and went up to a spot upstream where I knew I could makes some casts along the bank. I managed to get into the stream and fish a good bend. Long story short – I never saw a fish, not even a strike. But that’s OK. Just needed to get away for a day. Take one more shot. It’s a long time before trout season comes around again.

Coincidence

I often wake in the middle of the night and invariably check the clock. Two nights ago I woke at 3:21. I have been harboring a suspicion for years that numbers may solve the riddle of the universe and was curious enough about 321 to ponder it at 3:21AM. For starters, was it a prime number? (a number only divisible by itself and 1) I quickly saw that it is the sum of 3×107. Not prime. So then I thought how about 432, the next set of descending numbers. No, not prime, it is the sum of 4×108. The relationship of 3×107 and 4×108 compared to 321 and 432 was interesting. So of course I thought about 543, the next sequence.  That broke the strange new rule. Not to be dissuaded I thought of the next descending sequence, 654 and saw it was the sum of 6×109. So that was interesting again. Not sure if there is any truth to prime numbers pointing to a theory of the universe but that is the kind of question I may ponder in the middle of a sleepless night.

The coincidence occurred the next day while reading “A Gentleman In Moscow” by Amor Towles. The main character, Count Rostov, has made the acquaintance of a young girl, Nina, working on mathematics for school. She has taken it on herself to figure out all of the prime numbers. There is a stack of papers next to her filled with numbers, some circled. The count picks up a sheet and tells her this one is not a prime number. She looks at the number (1,173) and asks how does he know? He replies, “If a number’s individual digits sum to a number that is divisible by 3, then it too is divisible by 3. Nina says, “Better hand me that stack of papers.” Don’t let this small description of a passage turn you off to the book. The book is really a delight capturing the human spirit.

Next time I wake at 3:21 my plan is to roll over and go back to sleep. With Einsteins help I did attempt to solve the big mystery in an earlier post: The Fisherman’s Theory of Relativity. If that sounds interesting type Einstein in the search engine in the right hand column…

2019 Fall Trout Camp

Pickerel lake Campground

I met Natch and Feral up at Pickerel lake, Pigeon River State Game Area. We had our vintage Apache and JC Higgins campers so camp was comfortable. Natch cut a load of beech firewood which sustained us for four nights. It was chilly but too early for fall colors. When the sun came out it felt ten degrees warmer.

Fishing was good the first two days. The the rivers were dirty and high. Natch caught a 22 inch brown trout on the Sturgeon and I pulled a couple out of the Pigeon, 20 and 21.5 inches. I fished a stretch on the upper Sturgeon with Feral. He had a huge brown making passes and suggested I tossed my lure from the other side of the river. I hooked him for a moment but that’s the last we saw of him. We did catch some small keepers including on the Pigeon so it seems like the Pigeon is making a comeback after the disastrous dam overflow/silt problem a few years back.

Natch’s 22 incher from the Sturgeon

Luther’s 21.5 from the Pigeon

We had an interesting jam the first night, Feral on mandolin, Natch on bongos, and me on electric, then acoustic guitar. Think Jethro Tull/Locomotive Breath and Pink Floyd/Welcome to the Machine. Not our normal folly. I ran out of words quickly on the Floyd song but when I looked over at Feral and Natch they were focused on jamming so I kept playing. There were no witnesses so I can safely say we sounded good.


I fished a stretch of the lower Pigeon with Natch on the last day. I had seen a monster brown there earlier and when we approached the spot Natch insisted I make the same cast. I tossed a variety of lures while he waited patiently. It was getting embarrassing by the time I finally gave up and told him to go for it. That giant fish was probably deep into the undercut bank and never saw a lure. Maybe he heard us in spite of our efforts to be quiet. So.. Maybe next year I will see that fish again. It may have pushed 30 inches.

“Lil” Storm

My youngest daughter Lisa and her husband Brantley were blessed with a daughter eight weeks ago. Lillian is happy, healthy and and beautiful. Her middle name is Storm. Her mom and dad are world travelers and adventurers and Lillian will be right in the middle of it all. Lisa is an outdoor biology teacher turned yoga instructor turned mom, and Brant is a Navy pilot turned dad. The entire family on both sides are so happy and excited. As a first time grandpa I am so proud.

 

Twenty Four Inchers

So a spin fisherman sees a fly fishermen at a good bend in the river and asks how he is doing. The fly fisherman is excited. “Twenty Four Inchers.”
Spin fisherman: “That’s funny, I caught four twenty inchers.”
– Feral Tweed humor.

I should point out that Feral is an expert fly fisherman also, not just spinning gear.

So Feral and I decided to go trout fishing when no sane trout fisherman bothers. No rain for a week. Low clear river. Around 11:00 in the morning to make sure the trout were deep into cover. Sun was out and bright. We ate a giant breakfast in Tustin with too much coffee. We fished one of the most popular stretches of the Pine River in Lake County. We tried to stack the odds against us but it didn’t work. We caught trout anyway. Feral kept three for dinner. Good pan fryers. I would like to say we really killed it but we didn’t see any lunkers and fishing was spotty. Good casting saved the day – zinging lures into tight cover and really doing the dying minnow action with floating minnows. We had to drop the lures right on their noses to get them to strike.

Feral field dressing trout.

We fished a couple hours, changed lead a dozen times, talked about the trout closer in September. Hoping for bad weather and giant brown trout.  Twenty-four inchers.

King Kong

I purchased the etching The Making of King Kong by Bruce McCombs, a Michigan artist, at the Cascade Art Gallery going out of business sale. McCombs is famous for his etchings which hang in galleries and museums around the world (including the Smithsonian). King Kong and I go way back to 1960’s late night TV. When I saw the etching… I had to have it. The image is totally fabricated by McCombs imagination: a full size mechanical King Kong robot on a movie set. Clearly, this might be considered his most creative, whimsical etching.

It turns out there’s a book of the same name: The Making of King Kong, by Goldner and Turner. I checked on Amazon to see about buying it and there were several copies all going for 80 dollars. Price fixing? Seemed high for a used book. So I checked the Kent District Library on-line catalog hoping to find it. No Luck until I mentioned the book to the circulation manager at the Kentwood Library. She was able to find and order it through a system that scans outside of Kent County. (Thank you!) The book is filled with movie stills and anecdotes from the actors and the production team. A fascinating read if you are a fan of the original 1934 movie.

I purchased three other Bruce McComb etchings at the art sale including one called Parade that shows a downtown city parade with giant cartoon character balloons. It’s spectacular. I have been thinking about donating it to the library. It is artwork that kids, teens and adults would all find very interesting. Might inspire young people to pick up a pencil.

Reeds Lake, August Night

I fished another Reeds Lake bass tournament with Mid-Week Therapy GR group. It was a cool evening with wind blowing out of the east which made it tricky keeping the boat in place with the trolling motor. I caught the first bass with my the second cast at Rose’s Restaurant docks. So I knew I had to work the docks for a while even though I told myself to explore the lake. (Last tournament I couldn’t start the outboard because of a bad battery. This week I was ready.) Still, the docks have fish. There’s a nice drop-off in site of the docks near a small stream inlet but every time I looked over there there was a boat parked on it. So I didn’t fire up the outboard. I did OK though, four bass for 10.94 lbs. Another bass, large, may have helped but probably not enough – there are some seriously good fishermen in this group. Figure five fish / 18 lbs to finish in the money.

The moon was up for the 9:15 finish and weigh-in. I pulled in a couple minutes early so I could get a spot right next to the dock. Fishing alone has it’s challenges including loading the boat. Most teams have one guy back the trailer in while the other guy motors on which is quick and easy. I back the trailer in then need to wrangle the boat around the dock and onto the trailer. I hate to slow things down but if I can park right on the outside of the dock it works pretty smooth. My one complaint is the city turns off the flood light at the boat launch as soon as it is dark. We need that light to load up! It helps to see the docks when backing up. Maybe I can write to the city park commission about that. If they left it on till 10:00 it would be a great help to fishermen (and pleasure boaters). That said, it was a great night for fishing. What a fishery.

Estate Sale Pottery Art

I know, not trout fishing, but I thought a few readers might be interested in the strange piece of art I picked up last week. It’s about the size of a volleyball and hollow. I have been trying to research the artist online, Meg Scott, hoping for some information. I found two other examples of the artists work: A vase with a raised flower with the exact same signature. A second piece, a blue ceramic plate with a raised orchid with no signature visible but attributed to Meg Scott. Both pretty tame compared to this haunting, apocalyptic piece. I am sure my daughters will be fighting over this.. Not.

Baldwin River

A week ago Feral called to report the Baldwin River was not just over the banks, but over the roads. They had ten inches of rain which put a real damper on the Trout-o-rama festival including blocked roads into and out of town. But that was a little over a week ago. I had the morning off so I drove up there with the idea of fishing the Baldwin if it was wadable. The weather report said possible rain and that was actually a bonus, not to raise the river more, but to get the trout actively feeding. Add rain, double your trout.

It rained but five minutes so it didn’t help. I caught one nice trout, about 17 inches, on the stretch below Bray Creek Campground. There’s a poorly marked walking trail which follows the hillside and drops down to the river in two places. I went as far downstream as I could figuring that would have the least overall fishing traffic. I would post a photo of the trout except the lens of my camera phone must have been wet so I have three fuzzy photos of a large blob surrounded by green stuff.

I didn’t see many trout. The stretch is mostly gravel and shallow. Casting the cover takes some patience and skill because the river is more like a creek, overgrown with lots of blowdowns. Still, if you can zing the lure into tight spots it can produce trout.

Feral and I have been threatening to go camping and trout fishing since the opener but this is the year where bad weather (clear skies and 90 degree temps) or various commitments keep sidetracking plans. I’m afraid to blink: the trout season closer will be upon us.

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: