Avoid high temperatures, and fish at night

Hexagenia limbata (giant Michigan mayfly) produce heavy trout feeding patterns
llustration (HexMoon Glow) courtesy Les Booth ©2012

It must be something in my genes. I’m apparently wired different than most people.

Michigan has four seasons -- spring, summer, fall and winter. It’s not that I dislike summer; it’s that I hate summer!

Now, hate is a pretty nasty word when used in any form.

Sadly, I can think of no better way to sum up my feelings. Granted, I could probably find something to do after sundown, like fish for big brown trout in the
AuSable or Manistee rivers. It can help take my mind off the constant heat.

I’ve done that for many years during other brutally hot summers. It was OK, but I actively dislike that sticky feeling when I perspire too much. And, there-in lies part of my problem. I don’t perspire like most people.

Sometimes hot days produce hot fishing at night

Very little perspiration comes off my head. Nor does my underarms dampen my shirt.  It comes out in other places too delicate for a family oriented blog to discuss.

The higher the temperature, the higher my frustration level, and the more noxious insects try to bore holes in my body to suck my blood.

I’ve learned not to swat at flying insects, day or night. It moves the air, makes me even hotter than before and all the bugs whistle up their buddies to come and join the feast.

It’s at this time of year when many major fly hatches come off. The sun goes down, and insects that have spent the day maturing in stream-side foliage, decide to reproduce their kind in a mating dance over the river. It begins with a soft audible hum before becoming a full-blown hatch.

Mayflies land on nose, ears and hands, and balance delicately on the brim of my cap. I look out over the river. Clouds of insects hover over the river, and above the audible hum of thousands of insect wings, comes the sound of trout rising from narrow seams of flowing water.

There are the splashy slurps of small trout. Experienced anglers have learned to determine locations by their sound, and from that comes the knowledge of about how far away the fish is feeding, and then we extrapolate that into making a cast that positions our fly upstream from the fish. Big browns sip flies off the surface without much noise.

There is a science to locating big fish at night; You listen for them feeding

We then determine the length of time between when the trout rises to take a fly and the next time he rises to feed. We count the seconds “one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two, one-thousand-three” until he rises again.

We make our cast at the “one-thousand-two” count. This gives us a narrow window to make the cast; at the “one-thousand-two” count; and allowing that final second for the cast, and drift, of the fly over the feeding trout.

That’s the way it’s supposed to work. Often a rising trout will sip a natural insect off the surface, and by chance take one of the many that surround your fly. It doesn’t always work.

Often they ignore our offering, and anglers can switch fly patterns or sizes, and that may make a difference. Sometimes when a blanket hatch occurs, there are simply two many insects on the water. The trout can swim with their mouth open and fill their belly fast.

The odd thing about a hot night and a good hatch is we often forget about the oppressive heat. We false-cast once or twice to dry the fly, and keep trying for that one fish that continues to rise, but a blanket hatch soon puts the fish down. They’ve ate their fill, and retire to a quiet spot in the water to rest.

In the distance, a tree of heat lightning flickers across the sky, and one can easily determine its line of travel as it flickers again. Slowly, a calm settles over the water, and it’s possible to hear other night sounds.

Learn to listen for feeding fish, and to tell big fish from small ones

Owls hoot, night hawks boom, and frogs croak near shore. Suddenly, one becomes aware that the awesome heat of the day has lessened and we drift the river slowly casting dry flies or casting and stripping line fast to work a big streamer through deep holes and runs near shore. This latter method, if done on a nonstop basis, may produce a big fish but all of the effort will set you to sweating again.

One must chose their poison. I had a heat stroke once while changing a car tire, and since that time, I conveniently find something to do inside my air conditioned office.

So, if you are like me, I choose to stay in when we have three-digit temperatures occur during mid-day, and if I choose to fish at night, I wait until two hours after sun down before I head out. It may limit my catch at times, but it does allow me to fish in some semblance of comfort.

Troubled times and the written word

Dave Richey looks through book files for a certain book
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Folks, no one needs to tell us that these are troubled times.

Many jobs are in peril. Job security is questionable or even doubtful. Many folks are out of work, and homes have been foreclosed on and lost.

Management in some areas don’t worry about the worker. Insurance rates are rising, as are prescription drugs, and many wonder how long they can hang on to their job.

Amid all these worries is the desire to fish and hunt more, and spend time outdoors. The cost of travel has skyrocketed with $3.75-per-gallon (or more) gas, and fuel prices don't show any sign of going down soon. Jobs are leaving this state daily, and billions of dollars go overseas while our workers wonder about their future.

Sportsmen want to fish and hunt more. We find it difficult to justify a trip north for a two- or three-day fishing or hunting trip because we'll easily spend $150 or more for gas, another  $100-175 for a motel for one night, add another $75-100 for food, and suddenly the
price of fishing and hunting becomes very expensive.

A wealth of knowledge is just waiting for you to discover it

What can anglers and hunters do to take the edge off their outdoor cravings. It's simple, and much like my need for a fishing or hunting fix when as a kid. If a round-the-world trip cost only $10, I couldn't get out of Clio, my hometown.

Each year I managed to squirrel away money to pay for subscriptions to Field & Stream, Outdoor Life and Sports Afield magazines. I devoured every word, and then as my meager job paid a bit more money or I took a second job, I joined the now-defunct Outdoor Life Book Club. Once a month would come a notice about an upcoming book, and if I thought I'd like it, the book would be ordered.

Mind you, being entertained in your mind through the magic of the written word and a wonderful photograph isn't quite the same as actually fishing or hunting, but it provided an escape for those of us who couldn't shake loose $200 or more for a weekend fishing or hunting trip.

Books can provide that mental escape we need to visit another world, to a place where fish bite and where big bucks are abundant. It can take us to places where big browns sip flies off the surface, where grouse and woodcock inhabit tag alder runs and dogwood thickets, to places where rooster pheasants cackle in mid-air, and a wedge of bluebills skim the tops of white-flecked waves under a pewter-grey sky.

It was an inexpensive way to escape the humdrum of an era 55 years ago when the economy was shaky. Car sales were poor, and I lived in Clio, a bedroom community north of Flint. Most people worked for General Motors in Flint, and many people were out of work.

Books carried me along on a voyage of discovery, to a place where vicariously, we fished alongside Ernie Schwiebert, listened to the tales of Robert Ruark's Old Man talking to the boy. Now, because of books, we can learn about Louis Spray and the meanderings of his life, to the Green Hills of Africa with Ernest Hemingway, to the wonderfully written books of the incomparable George Bird Evans and William H. Foster.

Some literary giants wrote fishing-hunting stories

We can read and inherit the love of hunting from the late Jack O'Connor, whose books are steadily increasing in value. O'Connor has almost as many fans now as he did 50 years ago, and his skill at writing hunting stories was legendary. He was the real thing, and not a young wanna-be outdoor writer trying to sell his wares today.

Book catalogs that deal with fishing and hunting titles are wondrous things and I get a few every month.  Name the genre, and there are books out there to fit the wallet of every sportsman. Muskie fishing and turkey hunting are my two passions, and I spend time looking for those books on these topics that I don't have or simply can't afford.

I maintain lists of books I need. Some books are author signed, and many are not. Some books I need are low-priced and common and a few are expensive. Books allow people who can't afford a fishing or hunting trip to pour themselves into a good book and come out the other side knowing they've experienced something grand and wonderful while learning something they didn't know before.

Most of you know I buy and sell fishing and hunting books. I still read, everything from a cereal box to a mystery to a nonfiction fishing or hunting book. Some people don't know what they want, and they contact me and we discuss it by email.

Books are the gift that keeps on giving. Christmas is a long way off but a good book can be read over and over again, and instead of a goofy power tie for work, take Dad’s mind off work worries with a book on a topic of interest to him. Buying gifts now removes the panic that sets in if you forget to shop.

Forget TV; Books energize the mind; eMail me for help.

Take a look at my books on Scoop's Books.  On the Landing Page, scroll down and click on Scoop's Books Catalog, and take a look around.

If you need a specific title that isn't listed, email and ask if I have it. If you are thinking of selling fishing or hunting books, contact me. I buy books all the time, and you may have what I'm looking for, especially if it is on turkey hunting.

If you need help with a certain book purchase, contact me for assistance. Reading a good book may not be quite as exciting as actually catching a fish or taking a big buck with a bow, but when travel to do these things become almost cost-prohibitive in these economic doldrums, reading about fishing and hunting beats whatever else comes in second-best.

Bears in the berry patches

A black bear feeding on summer berries is still alert to danger.
photo courtesy Dave Richey Outdoors ©2012

Several days ago, while visiting an archery shop, I heard the first reference to picking berries. The word was some early raspberries were out, but we needed more rain.

So, we had two rain showers. I don't know whether we've had enough rain to do the berries much good, but I plan to get out and check it soon. I'm thinking red and black raspberries and blueberries next month. I love them on my breakfast cereal. The larger blackberries pop out this month and next,

I love all kinds of summer berries. I can get red and black raspberries near home but have to travel to some remote locations for the others. The travel doesn't bother me, but in these remote locations there are others critters that love wild berries.

They are called black bears. Several of the areas where I pick black raspberries and blue berries are areas frequented by bears.

Two things of major important occur in July and August. We reach the point when female bears come into estrus, and male bears are cruising in search of females. Most of the breeding is done by adult boars, but  since they like berries, it's not all that unlikely that a bruin could be feeding in a berry patch.

Be aware of bear habits and habitats

Most of the time bears will go out of their way to avoid humans. However, bear cubs are much like small children who are so into having fun, they could get close to human berry pickers. Should that happen, and should the sow bear be close to cubs, it could lead to some trouble.

The easiest way to solve this problem is to make enough noise by talking as you walk through the swamps, uplands and hardwoods. Bears, especially adult animals, are always alert to the sound of humans nearby.

Given any kind of chance, bears will retreat to a more quiet area when humans are not found. They often feed on berries, wild apples, cherries and other fruit during the night, but bears do move during daylight hours. So, it means taking a load of common sense into the woods with you. Make more noise once you get near the berry patch, and look around for bears.

Pay some attention to the photo above. The bear is sitting down behind some brush as it feeds in a berry patch. The image doesn't jump right out at you, but the animal is easy to see if you are looking for a black object.

If you happen onto a feeding bear, it makes sense to move to a different berry patch where there are no bruins openly feeding on the fruit.
Make a quiet retreat, but don't running off yelling at the top of your lungs. Once well away from the area, continue to make some noise. If you go back to the berry patch, approach it with human voice talks and progress slowly. A cautious but noisy approach will usually find the bear long gone.

Continue to use common sense where moving down rows of blueberries. Bears, by nature, are rather curious animals but there is no logic and no sense in remaining silent when heading for the nearest berry patch.

Perhaps you've never seen a bruin in that patch, but that doesn't mean a bear couldn't be in there feeding. They are rather silent feeders, and make little noise when walking if they are suspicious of humans nearby.

Common sense and awareness keep men and bears out of confrontation

I've taken quite a few photos of wild bear, and don't photograph tame bears, and you've got to work pretty hard to fool an adult bruin. One other tip is to figure out where the wind is blowing to, and get in the wind with it at your back as you enter a berry patch. Having the wind at your back means a bear will smell you before it sees or hears you, and will be long gone before you get close/

Understand that no one knows everything about bears, and what is written here is written by a man who has hunted bears often, and has had a few confrontations with sows and cubs. Remember this: bears are normally docile and will move away from humans if given the chance, but black bears are more unpredictable than most of the other bear species.

Being unpredictable means you should never trust them. I've written numerous stories about some of my experiences, but don't expect bruins to always act as they have with me. This is not mean to be a frightening story, nor is it meant to keep people from finding berry patches and picking berries.

It is meant to give people a heads-up about bears that breed and feed on berries during the summer. A word to the wise should be sufficient.

Superstitious: Who, me?

Me, superstitious? Black Beauty fly rod, reddish pink hat. So what?

Many sportsmen say they aren't superstitious, but look at all the sports figures that refuse to step on the first or third-base line. Other sports stars don’t shave on the day they pitch, refuse to talk with reporters and so on. Sports are filled with such people. I think most sportsmen have a quirk or two.

Ben Wallace always seemed to wear his hair tight for one basketball game for The Detroit Pistons, and big and wide for another game. Who knows why?

Others use a certain color of toothbrush on game day while some won't talk to a reporter if they will pitch that day. The world of major league sports is filled with such idiosyncrasies. Some folks would call them superstitions.

We all know not to walk under a ladder ... but why? Then there is the black cat theory, and "step on a crack, break you mother's back" song sung by young girls playing a sidewalk game back in the day.

Some of these things border on being compulsive, obsessive or superstitious while others border on doing something based on something that happened long in the past.

Years ago, when I fished Cheboygan County's Sturgeon River, there were no beliefs based on superstition. However, steelhead were in the river, and a distant rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, it didn't matter where I was. I was on the move

A sense of timing and urgency fuel the prepared

I'd make a mad dash for the car, and head for a singular spot. This certain hole didn't look like much to me or anyone else, and most people ignored and never fished it, but by chance or luck I learned that if steelhead were in the river, and in that hole just before the rain fell, I could catch it.

Why, I have no clue. But it paid off for me so many times, that it became a ritual. If I could smell rain in the air, I headed for the Rain Hole, and sometimes would get only one cast before the rain began to fall. That one cast would hook a steelhead nine out of 10 times.

For many years, my trademark was a reddish-pink Jones-style hat that I wore. It was with me on more adventures than I can remember, and whenever I was wearing it, we'd catch fish. I decided after Kay and I were married that it looked better on her than me, and she began wearing it and my luck continued to hold even though I would switch hats. As long as one of us wore the hat, the fish bit and the game moved.

Is this coincidence? Is it luck? Or is it a figment of my imagination? Who knows or cares, because I've never tried to root out the reasons why such things work or don't work. If wearing that hat led to better catches and more photos for a full-time free-lance outdoor writer, why not wear it. Why step on the third-base line if you don't have to?

Years ago I had some skin-tight Gortex rainwear. I began wearing it in Wyoming's Big Horn Mountains while hunting mountain lion. There was a great deal of walking in deep snow, and a lot of sweating, and I wanted something that would keep me warm and dry without wearing long underwear, jeans and other clothing. It worked perfectly, and my lion was shot with a bow at six paces as it bayed up on the ground.

Head games or real; Who can say

That rainwear was like a lucky rabbit's foot for several years until I took it to Canada's Northwest Territories' Little Martin Lake for a
Central-Canada Barren Ground caribou hunt. I wore it on that hunt, killed a caribou bull that, at the time, reigned No. 9 in the world. I wouldn't give the rainwear to the guide who asked for it but I gave him a hefty tip. He happily took the money, and then helped himself to the rainwear when I wasn't looking, and then I began shopping around for something else that would work. I never found anything similar to it.

Do I consider myself superstitious? Nope, but some good things happen when certain types of equipment are used. I own a pre-1964 Winchester Model 70 in .264 Winchester Magnum with a Swarovski scope on it. I used to hand-load my own ammo for the rifle, and it can shoot straighter than I can hold it. I've killed plenty of game out to over 400 yards with that rifle, and although my  hand-loads are now made to perfection by a friend, that rifle has been with me on many fine hunts.

During my 10 years of guiding fishermen, a Shakespeare Black Beauty fiberglass fly rod was the main tool of my trade. It was a sweet rod, tough as nails, and over 10,000 (that number is correct) big browns, salmon and steelhead were landed with that rod. Several years after I quit guiding, I took an old client fishing one autumn day, and hooked a big Chinook salmon.

I heard a soft ominous creak in the rod as I led the big fish to shore, and once the king was unhooked and released, I headed for the car. My buddy asked where I was going, and I told him I had just retired my favorite fly rod. That rod now hangs in a special place of honor at home, where it is rightfully recognized as one of the most big-fish-catchin'est fly rods in history.

It's a funny thing though. I don't catch as many fish now as I did when I used that old fly rod.  But, I won’t put the blame on retirement of the rod, or bad fortune, but on my poor vision. We all need a good excuse at times, and this is the best I can come up with on short notice.

The Ugly Sisters — Carp, Catfish & Gar

R. J. Doyle (left) with a channel catfish & Lea Lawrence with carp
photos courtesy Dave Richey

“The ugly sisters” is a derogatory term often used to describe three of Michigan’s homelier rough fish, but it isn’t exactly an accurate description of the carp, catfish and long-nose gar. These fish are found in many state waters, and although they may be uglier than a junkyard dog, they offer great possibilities for summer anglers.

Of the three, only the catfish has a strong following, small as it may be. The catfish, especially channel cats, are fun to catch and provide tasty eating when served up with side dishes of French fries and cole slaw, and perhaps some baked beans as another side dish. The others offer less than tasty table fare during summer months, although the carp can be good, when smoked over hardwood coals.

Channel cats favor clean water, and many inland lakes and the Great Lakes offer an untapped potential for rod-bending excitement. I’ve had countless fun days catching those be-whiskered fish off Oscoda’s piers on Lake Huron, and in scattered inland lakes.

Channel cats can be caught by still-fishing or trolling

June and July are the best months for channel catfish, and the ones I’ve taken inhaled night crawlers rolled along the river bottom in the same manner that steelhead anglers use. The strike is light, but steady and the resulting fight will elevate an angler’s opinion of catfish. These catfish often hit lures trolled for walleyes.

Carp – now there’s a fish anglers can have fun with. They grow to huge sizes, are found in most shallow Great Lakes bays and inland lakes, and they bite readily if you fish with light tackle. They are sensitive to any resistance from a heavy sinker dragging along bottom, and the folks that consistently score use four- or six- pound mono, little or no weight and a small baited hook.

Every carp fisherman has his favorite bait, but mine include immature ovaries from tiny bluegills; night crawlers, or a dough ball made of oatmeal, molasses and one egg. Enough dough balls can be made from six ounces each of flour and molasses to last a fisherman all summer.

The bait must be fished right on bottom, and be sure the drag is loose until after the carp swims 20 or 30 feet with the bait.

Set the hook after this short run, and be prepared for a lengthy battle with plenty of splashing water. My brother once hooked a 25-pound carp on six-pound line, and he fought the fish for 75 minutes before it was landed.

Run the line through a one-eighth-ounce egg sinker, and tie in a small barrel swivel. Tie on a No, 8 or 10 bronze hook. Loosen the drag, cast the bait out and run a loop of line partway under a rubber-band on the rod handle.  Keep the reel bait open so the fish can take out line without resistance.

A big carp on light line can wear out a fisherman

Keep the line tight, and if a carp picks up the bait, the lightest tug on the line will pull the line out from under the rubber band. Let the fish take 20-30 feet of line, turn the spinning reel handle to allow the pick-up bait to close and the fish to swim off without tension on the line.

Set the hook by taking up slack line, but keep the drag fairly loose.

Some anglers wade the rocky shoals of Grand Traverse Bay with a fly rod, and cast small dark nymph patterns just ahead and to one side of cruising carp. If the fish takes the fly, be prepared for 40-60 minutes of chasing a big fish through shallow water before it can be landed on an 9-foot tapered leader with a four-pound tippet.

These fish aren’t hooked often but can  produce a good fight

Long-nose gar, or garpike as they are often called are present in many inland lakes. I used to catch them on small shiners while fishing for crappies and perch in small lakes, and I’ve taken a number while trolling cowbells and minnows for trout in inland lakes.

Casting and retrieving a 9-inch plastic worm also works at times. These fish are hard to hook, and anglers should be careful with the saw-tooth teeth when trying to unhook them. Long-nose pliers work best.

The carp, catfish and gar-pike are disgustingly sorry looking, but they are plentiful in state waters and can add spice to a weekend fishing trip.

Good looking they aren’t but good fishing they offer, and any angler that scraps with one of these ugly beauties can count on a memorable fight.

Muskie Fever’s Got Me

Lake St. Clair muskie guide Steve Van Assche with a muskie weighting between 35 and 40 pounds.
photo courtesy Steve Van Assche

Muskies have been a preferred fishing species of mine for more years than I can remember, and in many states plus Ontario and Quebec, and it’s my strong belief they are the most unpredictable, ornery, cantankerous and frustrating fresh water game fish in North America.

They hit well one day, but may then go several days before they decide to hit again. Sometimes they will follow a lure to the boat, look it over and sink out of sight with total disdain.

The result can be a bit like a baseball game. No hits, no runs, no errors, but in this case, no fish either.
Muskies are born with a nasty disposition, and they never seem to lose it.

They are finicky to an extreme, and each day the angler fishes, he believes this will be the one day he has waited all his life for. Once the day ends without a muskie or a strike, most anglers become mildly dejected. Some even quit fishing.

That soon passes as fishermen assume the philosophy: Well, maybe they will hit tomorrow. Sometimes they do but more often than not, they do not.

Muskie Fever affects different people in oddly different ways. It’s difficult for non-fishermen to understand that year after year, muskie fans will return to their favorite waters with high expectations. All they want is one legal muskie, but unless one fishes Michigan’s Lake St. Clair, that can be as lofty a goal as hitting the Lotto jackpot.

Lake St. Clair, on the Michigan-Ontario border, is the lake of choice for many catch-and-release muskie anglers. Many of these fish are caught trolling, and that’s fine. However, some anglers will stand and cast crankbaits, jerkbaits and spinnerbaits until their arm wears out.
For this latter group, catching a legal muskellunge is one of fishing’s most difficult pursuits. It’s even more difficult to catch a legal fish, but Lake St. Clair is producing some 50-inch fish. Anyone who has fished for muskies more than once know that a fish that size doesn’t come
along very often.

Stand-up casting has been my forte for many years, and I enjoy pitching a big plug or spinnerbait out, time after time, and it’s important to note a following fish can be as meaningful to some anglers as catching one.

Trolling is a terrific way to catch Lake St. Clair muskies, and I’ve had days with Captain Steve VanAssche of Harrison Township (586-783-8985) where our crew has landed over 20 muskellunge in one day. Some are smaller than legal size, some are just legal, and on occasion a fish weighing 30 or more pounds is caught. Planning ahead for a big fish is a waste of time. Put in enough hours, and you may catch a 30-pounder. Fish more often, and a 40-pounder is conceivable, and on odd occasions, some lucky angler may land a larger trophy.

The trick with trolling is using planer boards, and three lines are legal in Michigan waters while only one line per angler can be used in Ontario. Put six people aboard a boat, and you have six or 12 lines out, depending on where you fish, and it increases the odds of hooking a nice fish.

Trolling produces more fish but large fish can be caught by casting.

Muskie lures are basically large, and small ones are six inches long while large lures can be nine to 12 inches or longer. Oddly enough, Lake St. Clair produces some good fishing from the Fourth of July through October and November, depending on weather conditions. I’ve been on the lake on several occasions in truly bad weather, and it isn’t any fun.

The lake is large and shallow, and eight-foot waves are not uncommon, and the waves tend to run close together. This can lead to slow and easy trips back to the dock. The International boundary runs basically down the middle of the lake, but fishing laws are vigorously enforced on both sides of the border. It’s wise to plug in the boundary on your GPS unless you have Michigan and Ontario licenses.

There are any number of good trolling lures. The Wyle us a good plug, as are Homer LeBlanc’s Swim Whiz and other similar lures like muskie sized Rapalas.

Noted muskie angler Larry Ramsell with a 43-pounf Great Lakes muskellunge from Munuscong Bay in the Upper Peninsula.
photo courtesy Larry Ramsell

Casting anglers have a wider choice of lures. They can buzz spinnerbaits or bucktails fast over the tops of weedbeds.

Depth Raiders, sinking Rapalas, muskie sized Rebels work well, and Dardevles and Red-Eyes produce, but there are many other lures that will work.

The stand-up-and-cast angler is a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. He or she will stand, hour after hour, and make one cast after another. If a following fish is seen but doesn’t hit, they try a different lure or different color. No hits, they return every two hours in hopes of raising the fish again. Do it often enough, and a fish may hit.

They do a Figure 8 or Letter J rod-tip movement with the underwater lure at the side of the boat at the end of every cast, and once in a great while this method will produce a strike. It’s been my experience that most muskies that hit near the boat are never seen until they arrow up from bottom and slam the bucktail or other lure. It can be pretty spectacular,

My best time for catching muskies is between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m.

There are numerous good muskie lakes in Michigan for the angler that prefers to cast. Budd Lake at Harrison is a good bet, as is Skegemog Lake near Traverse City. Other lakes near Skegemog that produce the occasional muskie include Elk, Intermediate and Torch.

Lac Vieux Desert on the Michigan-Wisconsin border is a great lake and noted for its big fish. Iron Lake in Iron County produces some big fish, and Munuscong Bay in Chippewa County is another steady producer.
Indian River between Burt and Mullet lakes produces some fish. Long Lake at Traverse City produces very few muskies but those that are caught here will weigh 30 pounds or more.

Muskie fishing can be an addiction. What anglers become addicted to is not the fish as much as that heart-stopping strike, the feeling of tremendous power as a big fish strips heavy line off the reel, and the effort required to pump that hooked fish off bottom.
Sometimes the muskie will come to the boat, open his mouth, and the big lure will fall out. The fish slowly sinks from sight, and that hooks the angler again. We fish muskies, not just for the fish but for the adrenalin rush that comes when we have a solid hook-up.

The only cure for this malady is to go fishing again and again. The more time an angler spend on the water, the greater his chance for success. Muskie, slimy and ugly, grab hold of our emotions and only death or infirmity rids us of this passion.

Wading tricks to remember

A wading angler fly fishes while another swims in fast water

Water is great stuff. It's wonderful to drink, the right stuff for showers, great to wade in, fun to fish in, and a necessity when hunting ducks in the fall.

However, it is not fun to swim in at this time of year. Here's what happened.

The Betsie River has strong currents in certain locations and dark water. High water complicates things even further because it dirties up once the spring run-off occurs. Seeing bottom becomes problematic or impossible.

Certain areas can only be waded with caution. I knew two early-spawning steelhead were on a bed, and proper positioning had me in the key location to cast a wet fly. Time after time the fly passed their nose, and time and again the male and female parted to allow the intruding fly to swing past.

It may have been the 50th or 60th cast when the male separated early, moved toward the fly, and sucked it in. The hook was set and the fish jumped once. It darted upstream, and fought hard until it began to tire.

The buck steelhead, his cheeks and gill covers the color of orange-pineapple ice cream, put his broad side to the current and started drifting downstream. I was fishing a familiar area, one I knew like my backyard.

It was necessary to stick close to the bank, and with the river swollen with run-off, I knew it would be tippy-toe as the fish tugged its way downstream. The first six steps took me into waist-deep water.

"Cool," I thought. "This isn't too bad. The bottom shelves up 10 feet from here."

That 10 feet was a real treat. Five feet into it my toe bumped against a submerged log that had washed in on high water, and with the water pushing hard on my back, over I went with a mighty splash.

The strong current turned me upside down, rolled me around, sent me feet-first and then rump-first, down around the bend. The fish was still on, tugging at my rod as it was held up out of the water, but a one-armed breaststroke just wasn't cutting it. The river carried me 100 yards around the bend, and as I came to a shallow gravel bar, I heaved my rod up on shore.

My waders were filled with water, and the current ground me into the gravel bar, and finally I was able to get to my hands and knees and crawl across the gravel to shore where I floundered like a beached whale. I grabbed a sapling, pulled myself to my feet, and bent over to dump some water from my waders.

My butt plunked onto the bank as I pulled my waders down and then off, and emptied them back into the river. The temperature was in the mid-20s with a 10 mph breeze, and I had to get my rod and head for the car. Shivering had set in.

My rod was pulled from the brush, and as I reeled in my line, the rod suddenly came alive in my hands. One hundred yards downstream the steelhead bolted into the air, flipped its tail like a farewell wave, and we came undone.

There was a steep hill to climb, and as I reached my car another angler stopped to ask about the fishing. He then noticed I was soaking wet.

"Fall in?" he asked. Here was a man with a magnificent grasp of the obvious.

"Nope," I said, "a big steelhead took me water skiing. The problem was he couldn't pull quite hard enough to keep me up on top. He got away, and all I got was a short but wet and wild ride down the river."

It had been a neat experience. Mind you, it's not one I wish to try again anytime soon, but one that has carved a special niche in my memory.

Some wading tips

1. Fasten waders tight, and a raincoat over the waders, and cinch a belt tight around your waist and over top of the raincoat and waders. This will keep most of water out of your waders.
2. Wear a manually inflatable life preserver.
3. Wear the proper sole for the bottom contour being waded. It could be clears or felt soles.
4. Wading a stream isn’t like walking down a sidewalk. Shuffle one foot and then the other, and turn sideways to the current. If you turn your back to the full force of the water, it will push you over in the current.
5. Use a wading staff if necessary. I have back and leg problems from earlier injuries, and a wading staff if helpful to me.
6. Read the water ahead of you, and learn your wading capabilities. A fast-water rapids, with large boulders or rocks, and when coupled with very strong current, can be a formidable challenge. If you fall, you’ll be out-of-control, and if you hit your head, you could drown.
7. Look ahead and study the water. Look for a clay or sand bottom, and avoid both if possible. Get too deep in the water, and sand will wash out from under your feet. Get on clay in deep water, and the current push down the slippery surface.
8. Should fall in, and lose your balance, don’t panic. Try swimming, and if possible, throw the rod and reel into the brush. If that is impossible, throw the rod and reel away from you to prevent becoming entangled in the line. And then swim as if your life depends on it, which it may.
9. If you are thrust onto a gravel bar, try to keep the current from pushing you off the bar. Try to get to your feet.
10. Remember, above all else, keep your wits about you and do not panic. To do so may lead to death. Remain calm.

Posted via email from Dave Richey Outdoors