Fichigan

The Last Stretch in October

The last couple of years I met the guys up at Burnt Clutch, a remote camp spot up near the Pigeon River. It has been tents instead of trailers and lasted a weekend. I kept hoping for the perfect tenting weekend but it didn’t happen this year. Cold and rain seemed to blow in every weekend. I did want to take one more shot at the Pigeon so I drove up there yesterday. When I arrived the sun was out, the temps in the sixties, and when I drove by burnt clutch camp on the way to the river I had a moment of regret – it seemed like perfect camping weather.

I parked at the end of a long trail and walked about a half mile to the get-in spot. The sun was out and that helped me keep my direction through some thick cedars and swamp to the stream. The stream was muddied up just a bit but very wadable. I started with a Walleye-pattern Rapala, then a #3 gold Mepps spinner, then a 3-hook Silver minnow. I worked that first grassy stretch slowly, placing good casts, switching lures, and seeing nothing. Not even a flash. In the course of ten minutes, the sky clouded up and darkened. I heard some rumble of thunder and within a few more minutes it started sprinkling. Perfect. Rain usually means more trout. I hadn’t bothered with my rain jacket. I figured if it rained it was in the sixties and I would stay warm enough.

I had a good fish on almost immediately. It might have gone twenty inches and I watched it shake off the lure right in front of me. It headed downstream. Moments later I hooked a small brown, maybe 14 inches, off the left bank. I caught one other small brown further up. On this stretch of the Pigeon you can only keep rainbow trout after the regular season. I had a rainbow on briefly and that is a guess – it was silver and flashed like chrome in the water. It hit my lure twice. I didn’t see the familiar rainbow coloring.

When I reached the normal get-out spot for this stretch I heard a lot of thunder but wasn’t seeing lightning. Still, a little disconcerting, like a warning. Plus, I was soaked, so rather than push upstream further I headed back to the truck. The whole stretch was no more than two hours. I drove three and a half hours to fish it and had the same drive back home. I know. Pretty crazy. I was tempted to get a hotel room in Gaylord and fish more in the morning but figured if it kept raining the river would flood and that meant difficult wading and less chance of a fish seeing my lure. So I headed home.

Natch is talking “November Camp.” It will be a first for the Fichigan crew if it happens. The Pigeon will be open yet and I think small game season too, so we will see. A sad note, Natch’s father passed away this month. From everything Natch has told me he was a remarkable man and great dad. I hope he followed this blog… he would have been proud to see his son catch so many nice trout.

Fall Trout Camp 2023

Natch, Jake, Feral, and I met up at Pickerel Lake for our annual fall trout camp. Natch and I fished the Sturgeon and the Pigeon. Fishing was tough. The streams were low and clear and we didn’t see a drop of rain. I caught a fourteen-inch Brook trout on the Pigeon using a spinner. I didn’t keep it. We see so few of them we always turn them back.

Natch saw a couple decent browns on the Sturgeon. We fished one afternoon stretch and two evening stretches. I lost a nice brown trout under the horse bridge in the valley during the day. That night we dropped in near the Ford property and I fished downstream a bend, just curious to see what was down there. The land is private but the water is public. Natch took off upstream and there was no way to catch him. Later, waiting for him to come back downstream, I watched the sun drop below the treeline. (cover photo) It was late and I was a bit nervous…we had to navigate some thick woods and make a steep climb to get out of there. We did get out before nightfall.

Jake and Feral hunted for pats and woodcock and never did fish. They walked five to seven miles a day in areas where they had seen birds before but managed only a couple shots. They hunt without a bird dog which puts the odds against them in the thick cover bird habitat. They both had new shotguns, vintage units with swap out rifle barrels for deer hunting.

Denny and his wife Lorraine stopped by camp a couple times. They wanted to see the possibles boxes (see last post). Denny brought a guitar, another of his hand-made Martin copies, so we jammed out a couple songs one night around the campfire. Denny has a band, Down Yonder, that played at the Calder Arts Festival the last two years. They also do some entertaining/music at old folks homes. I video taped that for them once – it was so appreciated by the residents! After the show one of the staff tried to check Denny into a room. I wish I’d have gotten that on tape. 🙂

My sister’s youngest son Dan stopped in and camped two nights. That was a nice surprise. He plays guitar but I couldn’t talk him into playing. He was happy to hang loose, take photos (a very good photographer), and add stories to our round table.

All told, we had great camping and fantastic weather. Zero trout for dinner and Zero birds for the spit, but it didn’t matter. We had fun. We have one more trip in October. We’ll hunt and fish then too, enjoy the fall colors, close out another year.

The Possibles Box Challenge

About two months ago I proposed a challenge to my fishing buddies to come up with a hand made box to store camping, fishing, hunting miscellaneous items. I called it a “possibles” box after the possibles bags carried by mountain men into the wilderness. We had our show and tell at our fall trout camp. (I’ll do separate post on that.)

From left to right: Natch made two boxes, the first entirely from a wood crate. It has a custom latch and a smaller box with a matching latch. The rope handles are a nice touch and the workmanship was stellar. He also made the darker box alongside which features a custom trout engraved on the top and a magnetic latch. I like how the front has a lighter scrubbed area with the words possibles box. Each box includes a bottle opener. Nice work Natch!
The next box, in front, was made by Jake. I expected great things from him and he delivered. The box is made from a thick sled runner we found half buried in the Sturgeon River back in 2015. (see photo below) He had to slice the runner up into small usable pieces and assemble from there. Further, he made the custom hinge by hand (he’s a blacksmith and professional jeweler). The knob to open the box is made from a spike in the runner. The finished box assembly is amazing – every joint and seam fits down to a few thousandths inch. Incredible workmanship, design, colors, a really spectacular box.
Feral built the box with the caramel finish. He took design and utility to a new level. The top cover is removed in the photo – it can be used as a tray. On the right side you can see a built in coffee grinder. If you lift that section, below the grinder is an attached mason jar lid so you can screw a jar onto it to catch the grounds. His box is dedicated to cooking and he has various cookware and utensils stored inside. Top marks for creativity go to Feral. His workmanship is stellar too.
My box (Luther) is on the right. I went with 1800’s pioneer theme. My thought was make the box look like something that fell off a covered wagon. The lid has a US map from the late 1700’s with the names and general locations of North American Indian Tribes. I did this and the other illustrations with ink lines and watercolor paint, then a coat of clear matte varnish. The very front has a bison and a grizzly bear measuring each other up for a fight. The right side has a ox-drawn wagon and two rough looking characters, and a lower panel with a 50 caliber Hawken rifle with flame maple stock. The opposite side has two illustrations, a Crow Indian camp, and a Cherokee tomahawk pipe, both drawn from archived Smithsonian photos.
I called it this a challenge, not a competition, because I knew declaring a winner would be impossible and was pointless. These guys are artists. Each box is completely original, hand-made, and unique. I congratulate and applaud their efforts.

Small Stream/Giant Trout

A new report from Jake: Feral and I went to the tube stretch that we like on the Pine and worked up through pretty slowly. The water was high but still in the banks with plenty of color. Lots of clouds kept the day dark and it misted the whole time we were in the water but never got us wet enough to feel like rain. First cast I picked up a 10 inch brown and considered keeping but decided to throw back. Second cast I got one about 12-13” right up to the bank before he spat out the lure and swam away. It was feeling like a good day to fish. We worked up through some nice looking water. Lots of logs and undercut banks that made us wonder why we didn’t have a trout on the line with every cast but the more we fished the less action we saw. Feral had small ones follow his lure out of some deep holes and even had one or two on briefly but managed to discreetly shake them off almost before I noticed.

When we arrived at the real premium deep hole Feral was in the lead and he was casting in all the right places. We knew there had to be a fish under the far bank. This was one of the spots we specifically cleared out some overhanging brush earlier in the year so we could get the lures back into the shadows. After a moment he got quiet and stepped back to me saying he had seen a big swirl like a sizable fish taking a bug off the surface. He crept back up and cast up and down the bank and we both knew there could be a fish on at any second. After several casts and no luck he motioned for me to give it a shot. I made some long casts up stream and then a few into the grassy bank area and it wasn’t long before something big down in the deep dark water decided to come out and play.

My tackle is pretty light for fighting big trout so when a monster goes for my lure it makes my rod look like it might snap in half. This was the case when I felt the hit, saying “there he is” and positioned myself for the fight. I could tell right away it was a nice trout. And it was a good fight. The fish stayed deep and tried again and again to get back down under the bank but I kept the pressure on to bring him out. He went downstream and back up and then back down. I kept plenty of tension on the line but had to give when he took off for fear of breaking my line. After what seemed like several minutes he began to tire and I handed my rod off to Feral and swooped down with the net to land the beast. A 20 incher. This was my first time carrying a net and I was glad I had it. It’s going to be part of permanent kit now.

We didn’t see much for the rest of the trip. It was a nice day though and it felt like fall as we walked back to the truck. Tonight we will make trout tacos.

A Fishless Day

It rained on Sunday but there was no way of telling if my favorite streams 100 miles north saw any of it. Monday I woke at four in the morning and rather than try to go back to sleep I decided to drive up there and take a chance fishing. We’ve had a bit of a drought so I hoped the streams were up a little and carrying a little stain.. but no such luck. I fished the Pine River (Lake County) for about an hour and didn’t see a fish. The Pine was as low as I have ever seen it. I drove south to the Little South (branch of the Pere Marquette) and took a look. It too was very low, maybe the lowest water level I’ve seen on that stream. So a lot of driving, no fish, but did discover my waders leak. Not the best news to cap off a fishless day:)

Preston Arendson in Copemish

About two months ago I proposed a get-together / possible jam session with former members of the Preston Arendson band. Scott Zylstra, the lead guitarist, hosted it it up at his home in Copemish. He has a beautiful old farmhouse with ancient wood floors and vintage furnishings. I felt like I was stepping back in time which is not far from the truth. Jack Grant, the bass player, and Bill Voss, our sound technician, arrived ahead of me. When I walked into the living room four chairs were set up in a circle and Jack was already set up with his bass and amp. I recognized the bass, a Fender Precision he bought back when we first started playing out. Vintage! Bill brought a new model Taylor guitar from his vast collection of very high end acoustics and electrics. Scott just retrieved his Martin D-18 from a guitar shop. They had it for over a year for a re-fret job so I think he was ready to test it out. It sounded incredible. I brought my OOO-16 cutaway Martin acoustic.

We talked for a bit about old bands from the 70’s, concerts we saw back then, mostly music topics. I brought my vintage pellet pistol knowing Bill is interested in old firearms. Turns out Jack has some knowledge on the subject too. Frankly I was a little nervous, under-practiced, and didn’t know how this would all go down.

Highlights for me: Scott goofing on his guitar between songs playing killer riffs and short progressions. I could have listened to Scott do that for fifteen minutes and called it a great day. I kept thinking I really need a recording of his jams. Maybe I could write some lyrics and melodies around them if he was up for a project. Then listening to Jack on the bass. A master. When I say master I mean subtle and solid progressions that don’t call attention to his playing. Supporting the song. And then he slides in with harmonies that are so dead on, and beautiful, you can’t hardly separate them from the melodies. Bill sounded great singing old Ozark Mountain Daredevils tunes and spurring memories of songs I completely forgot! We started playing around 11:00 in the morning and suddenly Jack said he had to get going. Scott mentioned it was 5:30. I swear, time has not moved that fast for me in the last 20 years. I wished I’d have been more prepared and forthright about jumping in with songs. Truthfully, I was just glad to be there and listen. I really needed that. It was something.

Found this photo from the late 70s… Feral with a pipe on the left, Jack on bass, me with my D-35, Scott tuning a 12 string, Abe on the right. Not sure who took the photo but wish I had more photos from back then.

Fall Trout Camp Challenge

My trout fishing buddies enjoy a challenge. A year or two ago I picked up a crate box with a hinged lid that I use to store all manner of camping and fishing goods. Things like binoculars, fishing line, extra reels, knives, flashlights and small lanterns, walkie-talkies, bug spray, you name it. My buddies all liked my crate box so I proposed a challenge for trout camp this fall: Make a wood “possibles’ box (taken from “possibles bag” mountain men carried into the wilderness). It can have a hinged lid, carry handles if it makes sense, a latch or lock, use imagination to make it practical. It can have a pull out tray or drawers. Bonus points if it looks vintage. Must be macho. Can have wood burning letters, design or illustration. It should have the word possibles or possibles box somewhere on it.

At fall trout camp we’ll have a show and tell / unveiling. Should be interesting. These guys are artists. I’ll do a post with pictures sometime late September.

Pine River, Alcona County

There are eight Pine Rivers in Michigan… I had to look that up. Normally my posts refer to the one in Lake county, but Feral and Jake also fish the one in Alcona County. It’s smaller water but has nice brown trout and brook trout depending on which stretch. Jake and Feral sent me photos and some background on a recent trip. According to Jake:

It was looking like a stormy day. Feral and I had been itching to fish the stretch we cleared out. We had gone through a month or so ago and trimmed the pesky branches out of the prime casting locations. In my opinion this stretch from the bridge up to the pine river campground is the most beautiful trout stream there is. Lots of small meadows along the stretch give dynamic views with the perfect mix of trees. I’m already looking forward to getting back through there.

The rain kept up the whole time we fished. The stream was up but not too muddy or deep. Wading was comfortably easy. We both lost decent size fish early on and we each caught several small keepers but let them go. I kept two trout for dinner. One was about 17” and the other as around 13”. Ended up soaking wet by the time we finished but it was a great day.

Feral cooked up the big trout with some asparagus and baked beans that evening and it was excellent. The perfect meal after a day of fishing. I gave the smaller trout to a friend who likes it when I drop one off every now and then. Lots of fun.

One Night at Pickerel Lake

Just hang and forget life’s complications. That was my reason to suggest a one night camping trip to Vanderbilt. I arrived first and set up my backpack tent and put my camping chair in the shade. Looking into the canopy of trees surrounding the campsite it seemed like time was standing still. There was no wind. A million leaves and none fluttered. No mosquitoes. I sat there for a long time. Time stood still while years rolled by.

Feral and Jake showed up mid-afternoon. They set up Jake’s tent camper and then it was time to consider fishing. We knew the streams would be low and clear. It’s hard to buy a trout in broad daylight under those conditions. Feral and Jake took off for a stretch we call Fontinalis and I headed for the gravel pits. You drive a two-track though a gravel pit to get to a dead end turnaround, then walk down a long steep path to a field (cover photo) that has a bend in the Sturgeon river. The river actually looked pretty good for fishing. I didn’t fish long. Good casts were unanswered.

Jake and Feral did slightly better if one small trout counts. They relayed pretty much the same story – good casts unanswered. But the stream looked okay meaning the water level was higher than any of us expected.

The day before we figured out this camping trip I went to a garage sale and bought a BB pistol for twenty four dollars. I thought if we camped in one of our remote dispersed camps we could set up a couple beer cans and have a competition. It’s a model 188 Daisy from the 1970s. It has a single-pump lever to cock the cylinder. I brought it along to show Jake and Feral, both hunters and gun knowledgeable.

Jake sent me the second photo. The pistol on the left is Feral’s Hy Score .22 caliber single shot pellet gun made between 1948 and 1961. The one on the right is Jake’s Webley & Scott Mark One single shot pellet gun in .177 caliber made from 1924 to 1935. Both are air powered by lever. My understanding is the Daisy 188 shot both .177 pellets and BBs when introduced, but later just BBs like the one I purchased. We are set for plinkin’. Can I compete? They have to reload after every shot so a timed competition for the number of cans hit in a minute works well for me 🙂

I picked up a bundle of firewood in Vanderbilt on the way in and started a fire in the fire pit. I have a couple garage sale forked hot dog sticks. We loaded three brats on each and had a hot meal around seven (the time we should have been on the stream if we really wanted to catch trout.) Feral nursed a couple large cans of Bud and I knocked down some cold Coronas. Jake doesn’t drink that I know of. We talked till dusk and were surprised it was still light at 10:00. We really should have waited much later to fish.

It was a fast trip considering it took a three hour drive both ways for me but the ride was nice. My new used 2013 4runner has a CD player and I listened to some good music both directions. Pickin’ on Modest Mouse (Iron Horse, bluegrass versions of Modest Mouse songs). The best of Simon and Garfunkel. Some various live stuff pulled off youtube. Anyway, a nice cruise with good jams in both directions. Natch didn’t make this trip but we’re looking for a couple days in a row when we can all get together.

Shortly after posting this Natch texted us and said he was going to camp up at Pickerel next weekend – any takers? After all that driving I was slow to respond but both Feral and Jake chimed in right away saying they would camp too. I said count me in. I met Natch on Friday and Feral and Jake came over from Alpena area on Saturday. That gave Natch and I a chance to fish the Cornwall stretch of the Pigeon on Friday evening. We figured “the later the better” for fishing and were on the water at 7:30 PM. Natch took the lead and I suffered watching him sling his lure right next to the bank and drawing out a couple decent fish. Seriously, Natch is turning into a tough water vacuum cleaner. He caught three keepers to my one.

I brought my camper this time and found a shady spot to set up. Shady until about noon that is. It was another sunny, scorcher weekend. I need a neon sign that says “Diner Open.” I made camp breakfast both days. Natch handled dinner.

Two ways to enjoy the lake, in the water or in the shade. Photos by Natch and Jake.

Last Winter

Too many movies, not enough mandolin.