Looking forward to the trout opener

Sometimes I enjoy big-water fishing off the beach

Michigan's trout opener hits the waterways the last Saturday in April. Grear up for another great year of fishing.
photo Dave Richey ©2012

My memories of the general-season trout opener are strung out now over 60 years, back to those days when my late twin brother George and I would have a visual race. It was to see who would be the first to spot the Sturgeon River glinting through the late-April sunlight.

Spotting the river first was as much fun as hooking a fish. We would count down the days to the opener, and in those days, a desperate anticipation overcame us. We were ready, and had been primed for the opener for many lean months.

It became a visceral thing. We could feel it coming, and each check mark on the calendar brought us one day closer to when we could fish our beloved Sturgeon River between Wolverine and Indian River in Cheboygan County.

We could sense the thrill and excitement deep in our guts

We could easily remember the first cold chill of the river current gripping our skinny little legs. We'd pick the brain of George Yontz, the steelhead guru of Hillside Camp, three miles north of Wolverine on old M-27.

We had fresh six-pound line on our reel, sharp No. 6 or 8 Eagle Claw gold hooks, and carried our treasured jars of Atlas salmon eggs. They sold for a buck a jar in those days, but salmon eggs produced better than worms or other bait.

Those early days meant a limit catch of 10 trout per day, and the Wolverine Hatchery and its hatchery truck planted fish just before the opener. It took years of catching lots of small trout in Phase 1 of our trout-fishing education before we arrived at Phase 2. That was when we'd had enough of the tiddlers and wanted more than a flip-flopping small trout.

We were primed and ready. It was an adventure for us

We wanted bigger fish, and it wasn't long before we were catching our fair share of steelhead. That phase of catching big fish stuck with us for many years before we graduated to accepting the challenge of meeting and greeting our trout in tough places where catching any trout -- large or small -- was a difficult challenge.

Many opening days have passed with the speed of an old man racing headlong through life, each year passing even faster than the previous one. To think that 60 years have gone by, and I've been out there for every opener to capture the moment with fly rod, spinning rod of camera, is a testament to my devotion to these grand game fish.

There have been a few openers where the Blue Wing Olives and Hendrickson's hatched well, but more often, the opener produced high winds, rain, and very often snow, and the fishing wasn't worth beans.

Art Neumann of Saginaw always handled the countdown

However, trout fishing isn't all about catching fish. It means meeting old friends, discussing past openers, learning who had fished around their last bend, who was ill and couldn't fish, and where the hot-spots might be later in the day.

For 23 years I covered the opener for the newspaper, and that usually meant very little fishing. Sometimes, if the action was good, I could shoot photos and write my copy, and still have time to fish for an hour or two.

Trout fishing also was George's love, and we shared so many wonderful days together on so many Michigan streams, and each one brought both of us a sense of peace and tranquility. We often didn't talk because twins know what the other is thinking. It's true in many cases, and especially for us. We didn't need to speak.

George and I could always communicate without talking

Many times I'd nod my head, George would spot the Hendrickson lift off the surface, and we both marveled at this transformation from a nymph to a flying insect. Sometimes a grunt and a look would indicate a mink running the bank or the flash of a trout under a sweeper.

We spent so many years greeting the dawn somewhere on a trout stream. We both loved the Holy Waters of the AuSable and Manistee rivers, but sometimes we would be on a steelhead stream or fishing a back-of-beyond beaver pond. Tiny cedar-shrouded jump-across creeks and brook trout were on the agenda at times, and occasionally we would fly-fish trout lakes.

Trout fishing, unlike a sport where a score is kept, was much closer to being a deeply religious experience to us. It was something we felt strongly about, and although in George's later years he would rather fly fish for bluegills than trout, he never lost his love of trout, trout fishing and the places where these game fish live.

It's up to me to carry on that tradition alone or perhaps with my son, David. But even that is out of the question this year as he heads for Florida to fish for tarpon.

I still enjoy fishing alone, do so often

It's OK, because sometimes fishing alone puts a person in a much different mood. We become more humble, easily satisfied, and we thrill to the magic of a rise, and we always are blessed to just be there for one more trout opener.

And just think, we have less than two weeks before the state-wide season opens on the last Saturday in April. I don't know where I'll be, but it will be on trout water, somewhere. Bet on it!

Choose last-minute firearm stands

It’s not likely but some opening-day bucks may be out in the open.

The forecast for the Nov. 15 firearm deer opener leaves little room for speculation about the weather. As of this writing, it seems to be waffling a bit between rain and snow. If we're unlucky, we may get both.

I seem to find myself wondering whether the weather will clear off or be nasty. If it's going to be sloppy, I want to have a ground blind close to the best bedding cover. I normally don't worry about such things, but I've always played hunches, lived by my gut instinct and wits, and with the promise of inclement weather, I'd just as soon be somewhere that it is reasonably dry.

Two spots come to mind, and both are ideal for a pop-up blind. As distasteful as it is to erect last-minute stands, a  pop-up blind can have a person hunting within five minutes. I plan to put a pop-up blind deep in a pine plantation that is owned by a friend, and it will be positioned downwind of where two major deer trails come together. The deer have to work hard to feed all night because where a standing corn field stood last year, the corn has already been cut.

Up in the air or on the ground?

I plan to be in a tree stand if it is not raining or snowing or in the pop-up blind if it is. The neat thing about a pop-up tent like mine that is made by Eastman Outdoors is that it can be carried in, set up, and a hunter is on the ground and  inside where it is reasonably dry and slightly warmer.

Another spot is in hilly country with rolling ridges. I put up the stand last week, and I eased into the area today to check things out. The tent top was stove in a bit from the wind, but all I had to do is crawl in, push the top up and it popped back up in place. It sits down below a ridge, and two trails cross below the ridge, and it provides a good commanding view of the area. It's located about 150 yards from open croplands, and the deer move through there at dawn and for an hour after.

Choose spots wisely and play the wind.

Both spots, although 10 miles apart, hold good promise and my biggest problem will be to decide which place to hunt. And, like it always happens, my decision will be a last-minute one based on the weather and wind direction. Both locations are best on a west or northwest wind, and if we have snow we'll probably have a northwest wind. If we have rain or rain mixed with snow, the wind will most likely be out of the south, southeast or southwest. This won't affect me too much, but an east wind will be a kiss of death for both spots.

If the wind comes from a southerly direction, I'll be hunting the pines and 150 yards from my friend's house. South is a perfect wind for hunting the pines in my planned area. Whatever the weather brings on Monday, I'll be out there and that's a promise.

If the firearm season is like the bow season, we’ll all need luck.

You know why, other than it being a lengthy tradition? It's the only day of the year when you can hear the sun rise.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors