June Camping at Pickerel lake
I passed through Mancelona on my way to Pickerel Lake up by Vanderbilt, Michigan and stopped at the jailhouse in case my fishing buddy, Natch, was there, but he was already at camp. He brought his ice fishing tent and it had rained Friday night. Turns out fishing shelters are not really meant for rain. He was drying out his cot and bedding when I arrived. I set up my Eureka backpack tent in the shade. It was the start of a memorable weekend of trout fishing and camping.
We normally pick the worst time of day to fish, mid-afternoon, because evening is meant for relaxing and elk viewing, and early morning means breakfast – usually at a restaurant if we are tenting it. We still caught trout. Years of experience, the right gear, and understanding where to fish (the best stretches of water) increase our chances even when the sunny conditions and clear streams mean tough fishing.
This brown trout, about 16 inches, was taken with a short cast in a shady spot right in front of me on the Sturgeon River. I’m still using the vintage Shakespeare 1755 reel from the opener including the light line (6 lb. Test ?) which I hate to change because it casts like shooting arrows with a long bow. I am not exaggerating, or bragging, when I say I can drop the lure anywhere I want within twenty feet. That’s how you catch a brown trout when the stream (water) is clear and the sun’s out.
I wish I had a photo of this: Natch and I were sitting at camp about noon and we heard a vehicle in the campground approaching. It was a small truck with the window down. I saw a bb gun appear in the widow and heard the plumbth sound of a shot. Feral did a drive by shooting. He had threatened to do this in a text message when I proposed a camping trip. He stopped for a half hour to talk, but was on a schedule and needed to get home for family business.
When Natch and I get together – driving around is part of the fun. We stopped at Burnt Clutch, one of our remote (dispersed) camping spots. It was open, no surprise, but we noticed someone had tacked a bit of cardboard below what looked like haunted eyes on a tree (right out of Lord of the Ring). There was a gift tacked to the tree for the next campers, left by someone. (Not us.)
Fichigan 