A Jungle in There
Memorial Day was my only shot at trout fishing this week. I drove up to my favorite creek and the banks were overgrown like a tropical jungle. I found wader boot tracks and brush broken alongside the creek but with so many logs and trees down it was a miracle I didn’t punch holes in my waders. I could get in for small stretches but most of my casting was from the bank lobbing a Rapala between logs. I ran into a bait fisherman who said he had caught 4 or 5 six-inch browns and one decent one, about sixteen, that he let go. I caught a couple twelve-inchers and released them, regrettably. I should have kept those for dinner.
Busting through the jungle to get back out to the road was bad, but could have been worse. The temp was only about 60 degrees which must have freaked out the mosquitoes – I didn’t see one. And no ticks. I had sprayed a camo shirt with permethrin so I’m sure that helped.
I took my wife trout fishing on this creek right after we married. Her wader boots got stuck in some muck and mosquitoes carried her off. I never saw her on a trout stream after that. I’m still weighing the pros and cons. 🙂
Fichigan 