DRiFT/ISA Early Show

The Mayslake Peabody Estate is a very lovely place to hold a local fly fishing show.

Or course if you walk around the grounds and learn about the history of the place, it’s a little like going to the Church of Fly Fishing.

If you went there and went to a seminar, you were in a room with stained glass windows with spiritual messages inscribed beneath them. It was once owned by a religious order and there is a chapel on the grounds where weddings are performed.

So if you said of your trip to the show, “I went to church,” you wouldn’t be lying, any more than when you tell your friends about that giant fish you lost.

And what is church without preachers? 

DRIFT, ISA, NIFTY, Steve Martinez, Brad Bowen, Craig Riendeau and others all preached to the faithful followers with tales of big fish, fancy flies, and  how they would lead them to that mythical land of giants be they bass, crappie, steelhead or the new king, musky.

There were casting lessons, DRIFT was in the front yard teaching beginners and Doug Taylor was out back leading the faithful through the ritual of two handed Spey cast, and doing it with a British accent. His friend Neal was there as well, a couple of ex-pats with the long, long, long rods.

For those in need of guidance, there were yes and I’m doing this pun, guides. My friend Austin Adduci of Grab your fly Charters was there, as was Steve Martinez of Indigo Guides, the enigmatic and at times controversial Brad Bowen brought a stuffed Musky and enough buck tails to keep any tier busy making articulated flies for the fish of a thousand casts, or more. Of course the early show would be amiss without Craig Reindeau creating some sort of fly that is part something from the local toy store, part from the fly shop and part glue and perhaps something from a hidden closet where he keeps the voodoo.  (He’s from the South, in case you missed his seminar.) And two very cool “dudes” from Black Earth Angling, Kyle Zempel and Ben Lubehansky who guide in Southern Wisconsin, I’ve fished with Kyle and he’s an excellent guide and a heck of a photographer. Ben I just met but he shares some of my ideas about fly tying and presentations.

For those in need of artifacts, there were shops:  Corens, DuPage, Orvis, my buddy Matt from the Driftless Angler had giant nippers, glazed coffee cups and bags made from recycled waders-all at reduced prices, always a favorite with the faithful. I had a short chat with the gentleman who made Tenkara  Rods and furled leaders for those of you interested in Tenkara. Don’t ask Kelly Gallop about them though, he’s not a fan. I think there’s something good to say about those rods, but I’ll let the Patagonia people talk about them.  I caught with Mike from Hawkeye Fly Tyer and finally got some jungle cock nails and will probably buy a full pelt from him as he has a couple that are in good shape and not all that expensive. I also bought some other stuff which I consider my donation to the cause.

I spent a lot of time talking to tiers and checking out what patterns they had, what they were selling or demonstrating, Rich McElligott always has something of interest and brought along a new pattern and mentioned that one of his flies had been picked up by Rainy’s, which is always good to hear from a local tier. Some might call that a blessing.

The I headed outside to chat with the guys from Rocktown Adventures who brought with them a couple of Kayaks and miscellaneous gear like anchors and vests that could be added to a kayak for safety and convenience. If I’d of had the money with me, I might have bought that Jackson boat they had. It was fully rigged and ready for the small ponds and rivers that we fish around here.

If John had a potluck planned, it would have been a complete service. But the root beer stand was a good touch and I can vouch for the root beer. 

But what surprised me most were the kids that I saw in attendance. Moms and dads and kids walked about the place, took advantage of the free casting and tying and enjoyed the seminars.  I’d call them converts, or at least I hope they convert.

I do have a criticism of the show, it was somewhat noisy, but the seminar room was a great addition. Also no manufacturers were present, but if John keeps the show at the Peabody Estate, I think it would grow and attract some of the prominent names in the manufacturing of gear and equipment. But as the first show of the year, it’s a good local show and the tying clubs and groups all help with volunteers and so we can be thankful for that and for working at bringing fly fishing to more and more people.

And for that, can I get an Amen?

 

Writing and Photo credit: Stuart Van Dorn

The Wheels Keep on Turning

I start this by saying I'm lucky to have an amazing wife who lets me get out and feed the fishing beast without giving me too much hassle.  In fact, she was totally on board with my need to get away.  So as Jay and I packed up the Pathfinder and hit the road, knowing we had a warm house and a bed in which to crash, Amy was content and we could barely contain our excitement.  We took off late Friday evening and arrived in just enough time to turn on the heat and rig up our rods.  We'd be heading to the PM in just a few hours.  

After getting skunked on the PM the weekend before, I was dead set on doing everything I could to find some fish.  Either way though, it would be step up from other recent trips, as it was the maiden voyage of my new waders.  It was weird to finally get in the water, waiting for the rush of the cold river to soak in to my socks, and then to find the delightful surprise of staying bone dry.  This was the first time in close to two years that I had the pleasure of enjoying a day of dry wader johns and socks.  So the weekend would be starting on a good note. 

In the morning, as our alarms blasted, we became a whirling dervish of activity.  Getting the coffee going, layering up, packing away our waders and loading the car.  As we got the final pieces loaded and grabbed the gazetteer, our final destination was still uncertain.  

As we turned and drove east on Rt 10, we decided to pick a spot that's produced in the past.  We both had waded here in years past and thought this would be a great place to start our day.  We geared up, threw on the extra long johns and grabbed our mittens.  And we were off.  

As we walked the banks of the river I grew uneasy as we continued to notice a lack of fish.  I quickly decided we needed to find gravel, hoping to find some steelhead or at least few browns.  The weather looked to be cooperating, and other than some high winds, it wasn't too bad.  We still had a chance.  

We arrived at our next spot to a few cars, but no fisherman.  We took that as a good sign.  Hopefully we'd all have some luck today.  We found the gravel I was looking for and thought for sure there'd be some fish nearby.  I'm not sure there was a hole we didn't fish, but again, it wasn't to be.  Our highlight came in the way of the beef stroganoff freeze dried meal we enjoyed from the bank with the JetBoil and then the gyro burgers for dinner.  Without fish stories to tell, we wandered around near the house, heading down to the channel to see if anything was stacking up before heading in to the Pentwater River, and downed a few "sodas".  

As we headed out on Sunday, we did some adventuring and went and checked out another stretch of water down on the White River.  We found some great looking water and made some notes for the future.  We'll definitely be heading back there this Spring.  

Looking back on another great weekend of being outside and in the elements and I'd have to say that catching fish can change a weekend.  It's not that it's going to make your weekend.  I've had plenty of crappy trips where we caught lots of fish.  I understand it's not the numbers, but the experience.  Though when you're chasing fish and they seem to be everywhere but near the end of your line, appreciation takes on a whole new meaning.  

The Adventure Begins

It started with a few phone calls, some banter back and forth, and the desire to wet a line.  Honestly, for me, it was just time to get back on the water.  First it was Jason who committed, then Nate. A call to Riverside Campground in Scottville to reserve a campground and we were in business.  

With the benefit of Nate's Stealthcraft, floating was an option and we were in business.  It would be the first time Jason had been in a driftboat, and his first time anywhere on this stretch of the river.  To say he was excited was an understatement.  For me though, I had the normal excitement and a nervous feeling.  The Pere Marquette for me, really is a fickle beast.  Giving up some of my best quality fish that keep me coming back, but rarely the quantities to keep me consistently satisfied.  She tends to leave me with a smell of skunk, more to the lack of skill of the angler, than the quality of the water.  As the cheddar brats sizzled on the grill and the beers starting flowing we discussed the upcoming day and rigged up our rods.  We thought for sure this would be our weekend.  

The day started with a minor hiccup, as we didn't notice the missing drain plug, nor how quickly the boat was taking on water.  A bit of a speed bump yes, but with the aid of some water cannons and a bucket, we were up and running in no time.  

This is normally the part of the story where I tell you things started off slow, but then something happened and the fishing just turned on.  Like lights out.  Unfortunately, it's really where the plot turns to all things non-fishing.  Where I tell you our gyro burgers made the trip, or Nate bringing breakfast sausages that made for the greatest morning snack on the river I've ever had.  The weather was phenomenal, the pork chop lunch outstanding and getting to hang with Nate, who recently moved out of state, was great.  Both Nate and Jason both hooked in to some zombie kings which made for some decent battles.  And we all got a laugh as water gushed from my waders as I climbed back in to the boat, time after time.  

The first of three straight weekends with plans to be on the water started a bit slow.  But it has only added to the appreciation I have for the days of double digit fish, or twenty plus inch brown trout.  As I get older and grow as an angler, I'm finding it's less about the fish, size or quantity, but about the company you keep on the river and the solace it provides.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love a day where your rod spends more time bent than not.  But it should never be just about the fish, but instead about the adventure now, and those adventures to come.