Surf fishing is good now

If there is anything that turns me on, it is prowling a secluded Lake Michigan beach and casting bait or lures over the edge of the first drop off. The results of that one cast can be explosive.

This is the time of year when most of the coho or Chinook salmon have moved upstream but some stragglers may be caught from shore. The occasional brown trout or steelhead is also a possibility although the steelies are about ready to move upstream to follow the spawning salmon.

Of these two species, the brown trout are most unpredictable. Brown trout numbers have dwindled in recent years, and it would be nice if the DNR planted some fish.

Fishing such spots can be a hit-or-miss fishery.

Rivermouth fishing can pay off from now through times when it is too brutally cold to fish. Many anglers can be seen fishing off a mouth as the wind gusts and drives bone-chilling cold rain or snow into your face. Sometimes the action is good enough to make fishermen fight the cold weather until they limit out on steelhead or browns.

However, most of the time, the fishing will be strictly for steelhead. A brown trout is a bonus. Anglers must learn to read a rivermouth in order to know where to fish.

Watch to see where the river current meets the lake water, and the current flow often depends to a arge degree on wind direction and wave action. Often, a sand bar can build off a river mouth, and the current will curve one way or the other around the sand bar.

I remember once when me and a dozen other fishermen found a school of fall steelhead and a few browns off the Platte river mouth pm a foggy day. The fish could be seen swimming only 10 yards away, and every fish seemed to weigh six to 10 pounds. A few of the browns were even larger.

We used spawnbags tied with orange or yellow mesh material, and we added one or two tiny Styrofoam kernels to the egg sack. This helped the bait to float up just off bottom.

Bait produces mostly steelhead while spoons work best for brown trout,

Our fishing rig was simple. We ran our 6-pound line through a 1/4-oz. egg sinker and tied the line to one end of a barrel swivel, We then tied in a four-foot length of 4-pound leader, tied on a hook, baited up, and cast into the water where the river current and lake water met.

The bait would roll along bottom, and usually it may roll only a few feet before we felt the tap-tap-tap strike as a steelhead picked up the bait. We'd give the fish a bit of slack, let the line come tight again, set the hook, and then watch the explosive jumps of an angry and wild fish.

We hooked a few brown trout that day, but most of the catch were steelhead. If a spot stopped producing, we'd move 50 to 100 yards down the shoreline as we continued to fish the river current flowing into the lake.

Often, the fish would hold on the deep-water side of a drop off. Deep is a relative thing. Where we were hooking fish that day was only five or six feet deep, but the fish were on one side of the sand bar and we were on the opposite side. They couldn't see us, and they seemed to act like an outfielder camped under a high fly ball waiting for the bait to fall down to them.

Once the bait hit the water the fish would grab the spawnbag. We didn't get a hit on every cast, but rarely did we make three casts without hooking a fish.

Try casting spoons in the same areas.

We also experimented with casting 1.4-oz. Devle Dogs or Little Cleos with a silver, silver-blue, silver-green, silver-orange or pearl-colored spoon. The lures would be cast out past the fish, allowed to sink, and retrieved just fast enough to bring out the best action. It seemed to work best on the brown trout in that school.

Timing this event is a crap-shoot. It often happens sometime after early October. Either develop a local and reliable contact in your favorite fishing area, or try it on weekends.

A river mouth can get crowded, and if your neighbor hooks a fish, it's important to get the bait or lure in fast to avoid a serious tangle. Two or three lines tangled by one fish creates a great deal of wasted time for everyone concerned.

Fishing the surf is fun. Lots of fresh air, usually a good group of guys who are willing to help each other, and if one hits the right day, it can be some of the most exciting and spectacular light-line action of the year.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

Doubting anglers just dont understand

A friend stopped by the other day with a buddy of his. The other gent wanted to meet me, and have a discussion about steelhead fishing.

The chat began mildly enough when we shook hands, and we made small talk for a few minutes. Then, in a burst of what seemed like pent-up anger, he questioned me about my past steelhead fishing.

"You've written that you have caught 100 steelhead in one day, and another time you wrote that you'd probably landed nearly 10,000 steelhead in your life," he said. "I think both statements are a crock. No one can catch that many steelhead these days.

The guest who wanted to argue his views in my home.

Mind you, this dude was a guest in my home. I don't take kindly to insults, and statements that I might be lying.

I agreed that he was probably right. It would be most difficult, if not impossible, these days to catch 10,000 steelhead in a lifetime. I also added that he must have missed something from both stories he’d read. I learned years ago that people read what they want to in a story, and then wish to argue their mistakes when they are wrong.

"First of all, Bud, I wrote that two of us caught 100 steelhead in one day, and will gladly introduce you to the other man who has a much shorter fuse than mine," I said in an even voice. " Call him or me a liar, and you'll find yourself with a rocky future."

"But ... but," he stammered. And I then told him it's not polite to interrupt someone when they are speaking. He quickly shut up.

I told him he should go back and re-read each story before mouthing off.

I explained that the 100-fish day happened over 25 years ago, on a cold and snowy day with lots of wind, and most steelhead fishermen were home or working. We happened to find a big school of fish, and it seemed as if none had eaten in a month. Almost every orange-colored fly we pitched to them resulted in a strike.

We quit fishing once with nearly 60 fish that we had caught and released unharmed. We went for breakfast, checked another stream, and headed back to the hotspot for a second round. We were up to about 85 fish when my buddy tripped and fell, got soaking wet and headed for the car and some  welcome heat.

I stuck with it, caught what it took to hit 100 fish, and kept only one small male steelie that had inhaled a fly through his mouth and was hooked in the gills from the inside. The fish was bleeding heavily and would die so I kept it. My hand on 10 Bibles on that one.

And then, the case of approximately 10,000 steelhead. I'm 71 now, and began steelhead fishing at age 11. By the time I was 15, I was catching between 100 and 200 steelies each year, and that was from the Sturgeon River between Indian River and Wolverine. Mind you, that was back in the early 1950s.

My steelhead fishing career now spans 60 years.

By the time I was 18 in 1957, I was fishing even more often, and the fish numbers shot up to about 300 steelhead per year. Some of those fish were caught during a "temperature run" during the summer months, which caused these Burt Lake fish to seek comfort in the cold river water. Competition? There wasn't any.

By my mid-20s, I was fishing steelhead along the Lake Michigan shoreline. Favorite streams were the Betsie, Little Manistee and Platte rivers, and those rivers held lots of fish and very few anglers.

It was really amazing, and seldom would I keep a fish. I would have six or eight 30-fish days each year, and always put the fish back. A quick, hard fight, and a swift release and no harm to the fish.

I began guiding salmon fishermen in 1967 when the spawning runs first began, and most of my clients cared nothing about steelhead. Everyone wanted salmon, so I'd give them lessons and once they learned how to cast, I'd "go check for other hotspots." I always carried my Black Beauty fly rod, and I always looked for steelhead holding downstream of spawning salmon where they gobbled free-drifting salmon eggs and were suckers for an orange fly.

Those fish were always caught and released, and I'd return in a few minutes to check on my people and lead them to new batches of salmon. I guided for 10 years, spring and fall, and not once did my clients go home without a limit of fish. Not only was I the first fly-fishing wading guide in the state for anadromous browns, salmon and steelhead, but I pioneered this fishing and developed many of the tactics in common use today.

Whenever I had a free day, I would check rivers to keep track of the runs, and the best way to do that was to fish. There were countless days, especially in November and December when the rivers were full of steelhead and everyone else was deer hunting, working or at home, close to some heat. Those months can be brutal on a steelhead stream but it doesn’t bother the fish.

I could easily say I personally landed 400 to 500 steelhead each year during my guiding years, which would mean 4,000 to 5,000 fish during those 10 years. One also must remember the limit back then was five fish daily, and seldom would I not catch my limit. Again, more than 99 percent of those fish were released.

One also must remember that the big push by the Michigan Steelheaders really didn't get underway until the mid-1970s. Back then, people who had caught three or four steelhead in a lifetime were introducing their friends to the sport.

Years ago there were more steelhead than anglers to fish for them.

High steelhead numbers held through the early 1980s, and although I no longer was guiding, I was still fishing hard in the spring and fall. It was great: I'd fish for steelhead in the morning, and bow hunt for whitetails in the afternoon and early evening. It was great fun.

Do I know precisely how many steelhead I've landed? I had caught over 8,000 steelhead by 1976 when I quit guiding. I know I've caught well over 2,000 fish since then, and if it hasn't reached 10,000 by now, I'd be very surprised.

I'd consider myself a fish hog and a poacher if I'd kept everything I caught, but nearly all fish were released after a fast, spirited fight. Most spring steelhead are soft-fleshed and not tasty, and they don't freeze well. I only fished for male steelies in the spring, and never bothered fishing for the females. I avoided hooking the hens, and that kept the males near the females.

Nowadays, with my vision problems, I don't fish steelies as hard or nearly as often as I once did, and that is a good thing. Bowlers become expert by rolling 20 games or more each week, and steelhead fishermen become better anglers by fishing daily.

I courteously ushered the head-shaking gent to the door and on his way. I don't know whether he believed any of this or not, and it really didn't matter if he did or didn’t. All I know is that for many years the numbers of river steelhead caught far outnumbered the anglers who were qualified to fish for and catch them.

Those who could, did. Those who couldn't, bad-mouthed the hot sticks. There's nothing new about jealousy among anglers.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors

A Platte Bay Reunion

The waterspout dipped down out of a nasty looking storm cloud over East Platte Bay  that day, and we watched the water-borne tornado for two minutes before it lifted off the water and disappeared back into the black clouds.

"Neat," said Jack Duffy of Leland. "I've seen a fair number of them while chartering out of Leland for lake trout and salmon, but I've never seen one on Platte Bay."

The waterspout was the spice that comes from spending time with a good friend, outdoors at a location that we both truly love, and we were there ostensibly to fish for steelhead off the Platte River mouth. Actually, fishing for steelhead was just an excuse for the two of us to get together to spend part of a day at a place that holds many dear memories for both of us. This episode happened two or three years ago, and I just remembered it.

Late-fall can be a good or bad time for steelhead off the Platte River.

Duffy and I have been friends for more than 40 years, and we pioneered brown trout fishing back in the late 1960s and early 1970s when he lived in Midland and I lived in Clio. We fished those brown trout hard, and caught hundreds of fish to 20 pounds at a time when no one knew they existed, and then one day Lady Luck smiled and he caught a 31 1/2-pound brown that set a state record.

He was the only guy I know who  has caught a coaster brook trout off the Platte River mouth, and it weighed about five pounds. We've seen the Platte Bay fishery rise and fall over all of these years, and whenever we return to fish, we are really returning to a place where some great fishing dreams once came true. Granted, that doesn't mean that new dreams can't be realized but the  fish simply are not there in heavy numbers as they once were.

Duffy had two lines out with spawnbags fished just off bottom in the river current. It's a technique we've used all these years to catch steelhead, but the fish seemed conspicuous by their absence. They lay out there drifting with the river current, and nothing bothered them. He was using an old Shakespeare rod that he used to catch his former state-record brown trout in an attempt to relive some of his old memories.

Casting small spoons sometimes pays off but not on this day.

I cast Devle Dogs in several colors by wading out into the lake and casting into deep water. Enough casts were made to make my shoulder sore, and there were no hits, no runs and I made no errors. The steelhead, if any were present, were not interested in our offerings.

We discussed the places we fished in Platte Bay for browns, and noted that the Lombardi poplars that once lined the shoreline of  East Platte Bay are mostly gone now. They provided great landmarks at a time when landmarks played an important role in fishing. Duffy, like me, has aged and those memories of long ago are important to both of us. We discussed, in depth, the many brown trout we'd caught trolling on the bay.

We'd wade  into the surf, and I'd cast my lures  while he checked his spawnbags and replaced them with a new one. My lures were switched, and fan-casting them and varying retrieval speeds and sinking times were tried. The steelhead ignored our offerings as if there wasn't a fish in the area.

Our stories were told, we caught up on each others families, and discussed his chartering business and my writing business,  and decided that we are both fortunate to have a vocation and avocation that is the same: fishing. Duffy pulled his first line, and we were wrapping things up. We had shared yet another precious memory from this hallowed spot by seeing the waterspout.

He grabbed the other rod, and felt a slight pull, and I heard that old familiar squeaky voice I remember from nearly four decades ago: "There's a fish  hitting this spawnbag," he squeaked, giving the fish a bit of line. "He's taking more line out. Watch out there when I set the hook."

The rod tip came back, and the fish was hooked. We then talked about how many last-minute fish he and I have caught while fishing together, and it's a large number. The fish ripped off a bunch of six-pound line, jumped twice, all bright silver and glittery in the pale sunlight. Again the fish jumped, and he began working the fish back only to have it take out more line.

Slowly, and gradually with a minimum of pressure, the mint-silver steelhead started to lose the battle. Duffy played the fish gently, and led the fish up to the beach to a gentle landing. It was a hen steelhead with a small head and bright silvery flanks, and little did she know but this fish was the climax to another in a long line of unforgettable days we've shared.

A typical Lake Michigan brown trout like this were common may years ago.

Really, what can top a morning of fishing the surf of Platte Bay, remembering my brother George getting hooked in the head by an angler who only knew how to cast sidearm. We removed the hooks, and the wound bled hard, but it finally stopped, and we continued fishing. We discussed the big browns we once caught like they were hatchery trout, and we recalled those days, like today, when we had the whole area to ourselves.

We recalled. with great relish, that there is much more to fishing than catching fish. That one steelhead was about six pounds but it was the capstone to a wonderful day filled with great camaraderie, grand memories of other earlier times, and one nice fish. Seeing the waterspout was simply a bonus.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors