Fichigan

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.

2019 Trout Opener

Natch with a surprise Rainbow on the Little South

The trout opener is “new years day” to most fishermen in Michigan. From here on you can add short hops to a local stream or try to organize some adventure with your buddies. Feral and Natch are always game for a long weekend we can call trout camp and this last weekend we met up at Big Leverentz for that purpose. We could have waited another week to help our morel mushroom search but still managed enough for a small skillet. We topped that off with some brown trout from the Little South Branch of the P.M.

A small skillet of Morels

Feral concentrated on Big Leverentz for pike but fishing was tough. After a couple laps around the lake Feral went to a bait shop and bought some new lures hoping to find something that might work. On the last day he had a strike on a jointed gold Rapala that was about eight inches in length – a huge lure with lots of flash. I bet he dropped a ten spot on that lure. Unfortunately the pike missed the hooks. Normally Big Leverentz gives up some big pike in the spring. I suspect the cold front blowing in from the east was the problem.

Big Leverentz

We had a good campfire all three nights and some interesting jam sessions with Feral on mandolin, Natch on bongos and me on guitar. I played some new stuff (for us): Tennessee Whiskey (Chris Stapleton), The Boys of Summer (Don Henley), and Go Your Own Way (Fleetwood Mac). Feral played some Tom Waits songs and Buenos Tardes Amigo by Ween. We started out pretty tight and in tune and I can’t say where we ended up other than happy to be sitting around a warm campfire joking about ridiculous stuff.

So this is it, the new years for old trout fishermen.

Spring Trout Camp 2018

Our minds elsewhere. The things we hope for like plentiful trout, pike, and morel mushrooms fell together better than we could imagine. The streams were up and stained. Feral, Natch and I caught around ten trout each. We fished the Little South Branch and Feral made one trip to the Baldwin River. We usually hope for a downpour but the fish cooperated anyway. Browns up to seventeen inches. Might have seen a few larger.

One of Natch’s nicer brown trout

The pike were biting too. Feral caught a record 7 pike on one trip around Big Leverentz in his new fishing kayak, a sit on top model. Feral has some serious mojo on pike. Natch and I struggled on the lake even though I was throwing the exact same lure as Feral. The lake was beautiful as ever.

Mushrooms were not really up but we still managed 3 skillets on 3 nights, fried crispy in “I can’t believe it’s butter.” Not sure why I didn’t grab a stick of real butter. I forgot a list of things I normally remember to bring to trout camp. Gloves to break branches for the fire. My coffee cup, a yeti from my daughter. My sandals. Other stuff. Natch brought some moonshine that went down smooth the first night. Remarkable since it was his first batch and only two days old. Mason jar moonshine. We came up with a couple marketing names but darned if I can remember.

We had the campground to ourselves. We set up on site one on the big lake. Feral pitched a new Cabellas backpack tent and I had my ’61 Apache Chief. Natch brought his ’64 Apache

As I said at the beginning.. our minds were elsewhere. Mike, a trout camp regular, an older brother of Feral and I, was in hospice care. Liver cancer. At first, there seemed to be some hope of beating it. I wrote an earlier post called “Mike” hoping he would read the post and understand my respect for him as a person. Don’t know if he read it but I tried to let him know my thoughts about him on my visits.

Mike passed away early Sunday morning, May 6, 2018. I was startled awake that night. I don’t remember a dream, only a sudden intense fear of death. Woke me up. It was dark in the tent. I managed to get back to sleep. I got the call that morning.

Even when you expect news like that it is hard to face the emotions. Happy it was over for him because he endured a lot of pain. Very sad for his wife and kids and grand-kids. A loss for myself of someone I could always turn to. Sad for Denny, his best fishing buddy. Sad for all the other people he touched in his selfless life.

Natch proposed a toast to Mike on the last night at camp. I thank Natch for that. Up to that point we were knocking down beers, making stupid jokes and conversation, our normal routine. Not sure Mike would approve of so much beer but he would have fit right in, laughing and joking with the rest of us.

October Camp

October may be the best time to camp in Michigan. The fall colors are spectacular. Weather can be good or bad but if you pick your weekend it can be dry, seasonal jacket weather which is great for fishing, hunting, trail walking, kayaking, whatever calls.

Feral and I are trout fishing addicts and usually call it quits at the end of the regular fishing season, the last Saturday in September. Upon closer review of the rules and regulations I noticed one of our favorite streams, the Pigeon, has a section that stays open all year for rainbow trout. We decided to give try. I met Feral up at the Pigeon River State Forest Campground on Sturgeon Valley Road last weekend. The stream is closed there, but we knew some spots on the open water further downstream that hold good trout, down toward Tin Bridge.

It helps to have a 4WD vehicle to get back in there. I upgraded my trout car this year to a 2000 Lexus RX300, a short wheelbase, good clearance vehicle with 4WD or AWD, there is some confusion about which, but we had no problem getting to Tin Bridge, and also explored some other old two-tracks that were even more remote and less drivable. A Lexus trout car? Don’t laugh.

We hiked downstream from Tin Bridge and I must say the walk in is brutal. We followed the stream but there is no trail to speak of, so a lot of branch busting and detours away from the stream. We found some giant mushroom balls on the way. Feral said they are edible if you catch them at the right time, but these were past due.

We arrived at a nice sweeping bend with a deep undercut bank. No luck there but before long we were catching (and releasing) some decent brown trout, nothing huge, but up to about 16 or 17 inches. We didn’t catch a rainbow trout. The browns were all very dark colored, possibly due to the black silt problem from the dam spillage a few years ago.

On the second day we hit a remote spot accessible off of the Shingle Mill Pathway. We ran into a group of young backpackers with small dogs. The dogs had saddle bags! I guess they had to carry their weight, no slackers in that group. We followed the trail downstream and cut in east to intersect the river. There’s a nice mix of gravel and sandy areas including some deep bends. On one of those Feral was up ahead and had a huge trout, possibly a steelhead, follow his lure back, but the fish didn’t strike.

Scene of the crime

He motioned for me to cast up above him with my lure, thinking the fish might spot him if he moved. I made the long cast and sure enough, it slammed my lure, rolled on the surface, and broke off. (I had just put new 10lb test line.) Lost my favorite lure, but mainly felt bad for the fish. We both guessed it was a two footer, a brown. Hopefully he was able to dislodge the lure.

We caught more trout as we moved up the stream, or I should say Feral did. I held back, overthinking the loss of the big one. Feral was sticking his lure into pretty tight spots and taking fish. Again no rainbows, but decent browns which he released since they were not in season.

Back at camp we had campfires both nights. We usually scavenge for wood but I found a good deal on split logs just outside of Vanderbilt. Five buck for a nice load that lasted hours. We played guitar and mandolin the first night, running though a lot of classic Dylan, John Prine, as well as some newer songs that are good jams. The second night we talked for hours just staying up enjoying the fire. October Camp is on the calendar for next year. The woods were almost hypnotic with bright colors. Fishing was good but a rainbow trout for dinner would have been nice.

Cold Beer on Cold Openers

Natch with 2 beers

We used to do our trout opener up on the Pine River in Northern Lake County. There’s quite a lot of state land up there and you can pick up permits at any DNR station for remote camping. The river was at the bottom of a very steep hill and we would do some bait fishing on the slope because of a deep hole that held a lot of promise. It was a tricky climb down and a worse climb out so we would make sure to take several beers because there were no volunteers to make beer runs.

Temperatures on the opener, the last Saturday in April, are all over the place, but usually cold. We, Natch, Feral and I, and any other regulars, would cut some sapling forks and lob big crawlers with sinkers into the dark pool and then crack a beer. Funny what you remember but I recall the sound of bottles clanking in our pockets as we made our way down the hill.

A cold beer and expectation of a giant trout latching on to the crawlers was all we needed. We’d sip our beer and stare at the rod tips which slowly swayed with the pull of the current. If a trout picked up the crawler the rod tip would jerk slightly and then it was a gamble on the best way to set the hook. I would usually pick up the rod slowly and lightly feel the line for a familiar tap tap – then rear back.

We caught very few trout and could have learned a lesson from Jake Lucas, who used to go up small streams with a fly rod and 1810 Shakespeare reel, constantly moving and dipping a crawler in front of logs and other cover. As kids, Jake took Feral and I up mosquito infected feeder creeks and watched as he would limit out with crawlers in an hour. So we know how to do it proper, but bank fishing a deep hole with a cold beer has it’s own magic. A couple buddies hanging out knocking down a cold beer on a cold evening. You know you are alive. A good trout is a bonus.

Remote Camp on the Pine River

2016 Trout Season Closer

I met Feral, Natch, and special guest Chopper up at Pickerel Lake for the trout season closer and on the way up it threatened rain. I would have been happy to set up in a downpour if it would have muddied the rivers. No such luck but the clear steams did give up a few keepers and one lunker. Feral and I did a stretch on the Sturgeon late Friday afternoon and he popped several keepers while I nailed sunken logs. I finally realized I didn’t have my polaroids. Pretty critical error. Helps to see into the water!

Feral with Polaroids

Natch arrived too late on Friday to fish but we had a pretty good jam around the campfire, Natch on bongos, Feral on mandolin and I had my guitar. Pretty diverse song set ranging from Pink Floyd to Ween to Bruce Hornsby. A Nuclear Chili Dog night.

On Saturday morning Natch and I headed over to the valley to fish the Sturgeon. I headed up to the horse bridge and he headed down the big hill by the Ford property. I heard a shout and next thing I saw was him running back up the hill. He had come face to face with a badger loping up the path. We went back down to check it out and found the badger den right on the foot path.

Been great to get a photo …or not. We really didn’t want to see a badger charge out of the hole.

So I went upstream and Natch fished the lower section. The stream was clear and the fishing was slow. I had one about 16 inches bat my lure but I couldn’t get him to strike again. Saw a few smaller fish. Normally at this time of year the huge browns move upstream to spawn and this is a chance at two foot lunkers but I can only guess the season is messed up this year by global warming. So I walked the river back downstream to meet Natch and talked to a couple guys backpack camping by the bridge. They had seen some nice fish, including losing a big one. I mention the stream gives up some nice trout in the fall but it helps to have a flooded or muddy river. I mention fichigan saying they could find pictures and it turns out they had seen the website – it comes up searches in for Sturgeon River. I could kick myself for not getting a picture of the two of them by their camp. Feral and I have talked about camping in the valley for years but never got around to it.

I followed the river until I found Natch and he had a good story but no fish. A two footer broke him off. He was using some pretty light line, 6 lb test, and a new fishing rod designed for ice fishing (my first impression). The odds were against him. I felt bad for him but at least this was an indication big fish were in the river and heading upstream. So we went back to the valley again on Sunday and he fished the same stretch. I was going to fish with him, trading off the lead like I do with Feral, but decided to head back up river on my own.

Natch fishing the valley, Sturgeon River

I had a pretty unremarkable trip. Saw some small ones. Walked the shore up to the bridge thinking I could get the photo of the backpackers but they had broke camp. Headed back to meet Natch and this time his story was a little different. He caught the lunker he lost on Saturday! He made the exact same cast to the same piece of cover and the fish slammed his lure again. He released the fish but took a photo. Strangely, it is a rainbow, not a brown. I have no explanation. I have caught tiny rainbows on the Sturgeon, years ago, but figured the browns ( and brook trout, upstream) had taken over. While Natch and I fished the valley, Feral went to the upper Sturgeon and pulled out a couple decent dinner trout so in the grand scheme of things, it is good that my buddies caught some decent fish even though my reputation took a hit. Great camping though, and for the record, no ticks and no mosquitoes.

Natch’s rainbow on the Sturgeon

Fish Camp turned Trout Camp

Feral on Big Leverentz

When fishing is not just bad but so bad there is speculation about whether a lake has been poisoned off I often get called in as a consultant. I received a desperate call from Feral and Natch begging me to come up to Leverentz Lake because they had made multiple trips around the lake, tossing their best pike lures, without a glimpse of a pike. I don’t normally do pro-bono work but I made the drive knowing how much they respect my ability and opinion.

The situation was even more desperate than I thought. Feral, who’s usually game for a  beer or two on a hot evening fish was going out cold sober. I thought that in itself might throw off his game. Natch had gray hair which was surprising because only last fall it was brown. As I listened to their plight I noticed a group of adults and kids, about twenty total, heading from the fishing dock to the parking lot. Feral yelled, “Any luck?” The whole group looked slightly dazed and zombie like. One man turned to yell back, “One perch,” indicating with his fingers a length of 3 to 4 inches.

That was not a good sign but my normal position in a case like this is: the fish are there. They are momentarily turned off. Time to pull out my bag of tricks and show how it’s done. I encourage Feral and Natch to give it another try but Natch threw his hands up and said,”No way.” To my and Feral’s amusement Natch said he was going trout fishing. To set that scene it hadn’t rained for maybe a week. The streams were low and clear. The sun was out. It was hot. Add those up and it is almost comical to hit a trout steam. Not impossible to catch a fish, but an extreme challenge.

So Feral and I took the kayaks out on Big Leverentz and tossed every lure in our arsenal that might begin to entice some action. Spinner baits, crank baits, top-waters, plastic worms, spoons, rooster tails. Lures with a reputation and history of catching northern pike. We worked the drop-offs, the flats, the cove, we were determined not to leave the lake without a pike. Eventually the sun started sinking along with our resolve. Time to re-group back at camp.

Natch’s Steelhead

Call it divine intervention? A deal with the devil? Fate? The jury’s out but Natch came back with a trout story we had to accept because it was backed up, wisely, with cell phone photos in my email. On a stretch of the Baldwin river he caught a twenty-something steelhead along with multiple brown trout from small to sixteen inches. He said the browns were all over his minnow bait from the moment he stepped in the stream.

I don’t know if it was depression, lake burn-out, or what, but Feral for the first time ever crashed out early and forgot to lock his beer cooler in his van. Natch and I built a campfire and stayed up to about 1:00 ignoring Feral’s cooler as best we could.