Fichigan

Small Stream Trout fishing in Michigan

Archive for the month “July, 2017”

The Middle Branch

The Middle Branch and the Little South meet up at “The Forks” to create the main branch of the Pere Marquette River. I remember going up The Middle Branch so many years ago at dawn with Jake Lucas, my grandpa, and right off the bat he caught a 19 inch brown trout. Minutes later caught another the same size. We hadn’t gone 50 yards! I was about ten years old, tagging along to see how it’s done. He was using something I hadn’t seen him use before, a lead-head jig with white horse hair. He called it a doll fly. About all you can do with something like that is toss it like a spinner and let it drop to the bottom, bounce it along, and hope for a strike. I’ve tried jig fishing for stream trout a few times over the years but never had any luck with it. In the hands of a master is all I can figure.

I had an errand to run in White Cloud last weekend so I packed my waders figuring it’s only another half hour north to the Middle Branch. Might as well try for a dinner trout or two. I checked the Little South and the Middle Branch. The water was clear, it was mid-afternoon, the exact wrong time to hit a trout stream. Still, worth a try.

The Middle Branch is a very interesting stream. It’s loaded with trout but difficult to wade and cast. Half the time you are in waist high water, sometimes on tip toes. That adds another dimension to the underhand flip cast I use for 90% of my casting. To cast in chest deep water I use what might be called a revolver cast where, with arm up high, I swing the rod tip in a circle to launch the lure. Hard to explain, tricky to do. The other problem is the stream is so overgrown that getting out to get around a deep hole is treacherous, and dangerous. My older brother ran into some poison ivy on this stream few years back.

About a 100 yards up from the forks I came to the first bend, veering to the left. At the bottom end there’s a sunken log all the way across the stream and I moved up to about ten feet of it and laid a cast up past the log into some cover on the outside bank. A sudden hit and I knew it was a decent fish. Unfortunately the trout headed downstream and went under the sunken log so my line was wrapped around it. I stopped him and watched him zig zag next to me. In this situation you can try to net the fish and cut your line, or move up to the log and try to horse him forward in front of the log, which I did. The other possibility is feed your rod and reel over the top and under the log and that’s fair play too.

But I netted it reaching over the log. Nice fish. I decided right then to keep it for Sunday dinner and it’s a good thing because I didn’t catch another one. Saw a few but with the sun out and clear water it was tough fishing.

She measured 18 inches. I fried the fillets up with cajun fish mix, made rice pilaf with fresh mushrooms as a side, and my wife threw together a fruit salad. We washed it down with an icy Corona with lime. I should have taken a picture of the whole meal. Now that was a photo!

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George and Deb

I took my brother-in-law George to a secret fishing spot on the Pigeon River one time even though it was a crazy thing to do. George was an expert at anything fishing including the fine art of spin fishing brown trout streams. George fished fast, wading quickly upstream and tossing lures with precision. I could hardly keep up. When Feral and I fish together we are like old men, casting every hole at various angles and never in a hurry, so this was the expressway of trout fishing.

George caught several trout though I can’t recall the number or size. At some point we talked about my Grandpa, Jake Lucas, and George’s feeling like he was never really accepted by Grandpa as a member of the family. I was surprised by this, though had to admit Grandpa had his own peculiar way of seeing things. So George felt like an outcast, making the sharing of this fishing spot appreciated a bit more that it’s real value. George married my little sister, Deb, and my guess is Grandpa figured no man was good enough for her, but he was wrong in that thinking.

As it turned out my sister married a man of great character and strength. A kind man that adored her and supported her in sickness and health, a trial that took strength I can’t imagine. Deb had early onset Alzheimer and George contracted liver cancer while taking care of her. George passed away this week, within a month of Deb’s passing. Our whole family, and their many friends, are still trying to understand this tragedy.

Just after Debby passed I asked George if he found comfort in his faith, knowing he was raised a Catholic. He said over the years his faith had a lot more to do with spending time camping and enjoying the outdoors with Deb rather than formal religion. I could see the truth of this. They were always off camping somewhere, kayaking, hunting, fishing, morel mushroom hunting.. if it was a fun outdoor adventure, they had a story. Feral and I ran into them once in a while at campgrounds. Up at Silver Creek up by the Pine River, and at a couple different campgrounds in the Pigeon River state game area. It was always fun to see them. They’d invite us to supper, usually wild game like venison stew as in the photo below. They would load up a dutch oven and set it on coals, bingo, dinner ready later in the day.

I wish I would have spent more time with them but receive some comfort knowing they led the life that mattered to them, raised a wonderful family, and had many friends. They were loved and will be missed.

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