Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Driftless Wisconsin, After Action
It rained four-and-a-half inches the week I was fishing. It showed. Conditions for me were hard.
My fish were all cookie-cutter 8" to 12" aggressive little beasts which tells me I was a split shot or two away from some of the nicer fish I saw landed.
I had fun. I'll go again in a heartbeat.
We had morning warming fires, too.
My tent on the left. Dirk's in the background center.
Both tents lived through a sixty mile-an-hour squall a half-hour after being put up. Dirk's snapped a fiberglass pole that was easily repaired. I have to say the Cabela's outfitter's model he had was a lot tougher than I thought. Dry, too. Nothing duct tape and a splint couldn't fix.
Above, the campground at the West Fork Sportsmans' Club.
Bohemian Valley here. I've a hundred pictures just like this of seventeen other streams. Heartbreakers, really.
I learned just watching him fish. I learned watching him not fish, too.
Another perspective. We fished the rain (fourteen hours of it) on Saturday. I came back and fished another six hours on Sunday and pulled eight fish from here.
One of my choices in the mud. The next cast pulled a fish out on it.
After facing mud, I was willing to try and fish my most difficult environment: the long slow pool.
I worked on technique, rested the pool, worked again. I had success.
We did a lot of scouting. Regrettably, this is the only shot I have of Dr. Don that wasn't of his back. I have several of his back bending down to unhook a fish.
He's leading a scouting party here.
Obligatory cow shot. Coulee is at the left just out of frame.
I fished the Driftless in perhaps its worst state short of flood. I still caught fish. I had fun.
I lived five days in a one-man tent and saw it shrug off a tremendous spring blow.
I wore wool and Capilene every day. Half our party bailed halfway through the outing due to weather.
I'd go back tomorrow.