Blanked on the Au Sable

 I made camp on the Holy Waters of the Au Sable. I used the "big tent" which was awesome! Worked great and had its rain break-in. Fine. No issues.

I took my time to ensure a good pitch. Very little "fiddling about" required.

Interior sans chair.

I broke-in some new boots. Loved 'em. Did a quick two mile hike round-trip in them on the South Branch Au Sable moving from one spot to another and back. Very nice. They'll do.

Korkers. I loved my old centurions but with the large booties on my waders, my toes would ache then go numb. I had to get a bigger toe box.

Made some biscuits in the Banks Fry-Bake. These are sourdough-style and I'm not much for keeping a starter alive and not much for cake-style biscuits. I'm more a southern-style fellow. These were a little wet when I mixed them up and so they "caked-out" on me. Cooked-up fine.

I'm just glad they came out AOK in the end. I was sleepwalking through the prep thinking of something else and added about twice the amount of canned milk I intended.

I had a couple Oarsmen while enjoying the river. Let's just say I had a lot of time to think about tactics, fly selection, conditions, and possible valid approaches to likely holding spots.

Lots of time. I wasn't pressured by the haste of catching at all.

 Jeweled damselflies were about on the North Branch. It was a lovely humid afternoon and these were dipping at the water's edge. Trout had no interest in them.

 The rogue's gallery. An isonychia nymph. Hare's ear. Partridge and X, Wire-wrapped this and that.

By the end, I had nineteen of these on my drying patch.

I had a pair of small brookies hook-up on size 17 pheasant-and-orange. Neither made it to hand.

I hooked a small brown on the dangle on a PTN in 15 who hopped twice and threw the hook as they can easily do when taken from directly above.  I had a nice view of his belly.

Nothing to hand. I'm not sure why. It rained Friday night in two different spells before and after sunset though neither enough to do much more than damp the firewood at the neighboring campsite.

It was a dad-and-lad family outing over there of the once-every-other-year civilian camping style. Six or seven boys and a couple dads. Fire trouble. Food trouble. The usual misadventures.

I think they all had a blast. Their Sunday morning departure was loud and boisterously happy. Always a good sign with teenagers when they kick-in to do something with gusto. Results aren't always the end game. Activity and the pursuit of some activity count for a great deal.

Gear left out is going to be wet. Provisioning for the cooking fire is the first job after setting-up the shelter and some of that fuel needs to be protected from the elements.

Camp chairs are buckets if you leave them sitting around.

Hey, it's easy when you know how. If there isn't anyone to show you -- or you've only ever "scout camped" -- then you learn by experience. A good attitude helps and these folks could have been the mascots for good attitudes. Also, the boys were learning to fly fish and that was fun to hear.  Knot tying and practice was a big topic of discussion at the usual teenage boy volume.

Sometimes less than optimal outings are learning experiences of the first-order.

My time on the river this weekend fell squarely into "learning experience." 

I'm not sure if my approach was insufficiently stealthy, my tag of tippet extender on a cutthroat furled leader was poorly chosen, or my persistence into the evening hours was too brief.  I was off the water by eleven each night.

I fished upstream. I fished an up-and-across swing. I fished an across-and-down swing. I made dry fly casts to holding lies with an Adams, a royal coachmen, a drab jingler, and a jingler with a bit of flashy UV dub in the abdomen. I made nymphing runs. I ticked bottom with wet flies on a swing. I fished the top column with traditional soft-hackles.

I missed something. I know it wasn't fly selection because I covered the litany of bugs in various stage that are present in June. I used old favorites. I used other stages of old favorites.

I suspect that I needed to be on the water after midnight.

The hex started last week. Then stopped. The drakes blew through in the period of one week. It's odd for June right now.

I know Au Sable trout are nocturnal. I did not fish after midnight.

They got me. Again. 

Trout Win! Trout Win! (My best Harry Carey).
 
Great outing. Can't wait to dash again. Will be July with the current schedule. 

Rocky Mountain National is around the corner, though.

Prost.

Dexter Casting Club

Image at left from the EPA archives as hosted on wikicommons. Public Domain photo.

The Dexter Casting Club is meeting on Monday nights at Hudson Mills Park in the stream pool adjacent to the walking bridge. 7 PM until dusk.

I meet on Monday nights through the winter at the Beer Grotto in Dexter where a hardy half dozen gather to guzzle stout and tie flies. I'd say we tell trout (or steelhead) stories but really, there is a great deal of tying in silence.

The Casting Club is an extension of the Monday night effort. Not a club as such. Just a drop-in casting fest with targets.

I've been on the Huron once in the last two weeks for smallmouth.

I haven't been up north fishing trout due to work and spousal social obligations. This weekend, I have a big blow-out graduation party for the daughter of one of my close fishing buddies and while I might grouse a little I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Even with trout-crazed bears, life can get in the way of trout dashes.

Casting on Monday night is at least a way to handle gear and improve skills.

I'd love to be more proficient with my single-handed Spey casting now that I am using OPST heads. After using light tapered line like Wulff TT for so long, the heavy headed OPST stuff takes a little adjustment on light 3 and 4 wt rods.

I do cover more water, though.

So, my snake roll is a little sketchy this year. It could use work. Mine is always a little sketchy.

I'd like to get a better accuracy out of cross-body cast. I'm over powering it.

I need to get my wiggle cast to be more consistent. Ideally, I draw the exact same wiggle pattern each time so my management of where to set the fly is better. I'm all over the map with it now and my terminal accuracy is not  as tight as I'd like. I'm going to need this cast on slow slicks.

Always something that I could do better with the fly line.

Going west, I'm going to need to tune my Belgian as well. I haven't had to really pull all that hard on the horizontal since coming to Michigan. I'm getting soft. A 30 mph blow across the Lamar will make me want to have that puppy doing all the tricks.

So, Casting. All of us non-commercial fishermen can use some tune-ups once in a while.

Prost.

Take Me To Your Leader

I couldn't resist. I know puns are the lowest form of humor but come on. It was lying on the floor and I had to pick it up.

At left, an image of the Albright knot (really, a bend ) as illustrated by Dfred and hosted on wikicommons. Dfred has placed the image into the public domain and so we are privileged to use it here. Thanks!

I tie a great many Albright knots because I am in that league of partially mad fly fishermen who ... gasp ... tie their own leaders.

Yes, I also use the plastic extruded leaders sold in every fly shop. They're fine. I really like furled leaders but I've not ventured to making my own, yet.

So, why? Why do I bother with tying my own leaders?

A hundred fifty years ago, a regular Joe fly fisherman would probably have made all his own gear. His grandfather would have done the same. Both might have traded services with a local buddy for some of it. Oats for fly line braid from the tails of draft horses, for example.

A hundred years ago,  some very fine commercial rods -- and by very fine I mean rods that performed uniformly under the same label due to mostly consistent production practices  -- were available through mail order or in the large cities, in a dedicated sporting goods store. E.W. Edwards was selling rods through the Winchester line of stores and through affiliated hardware outlets. Montague and Horrocks-Ibbotson were releasing tons of mass produced cane rods onto the market and most were available in the general mail-order business lines.

The Trout Industrial Complex was running full tilt.

Today, all it takes to go fly fishing is an Amex and a half-hour of instruction, if that. Maybe a recent viewing of  "the film" and a half-dozen on-line videos will suffice. Having our sport be accessible is a good thing.

I like the connection of using an ancient method of deceiving a fish even if that method is admittedly far inferior in success to a home-made brass wire hook and a can of worms.

I cannot plane my own cane. I'm a poor carpenter and a grave disappointment to an uncle whose trades included cabinetmaking.

I am a marginal fly tier and am thankful every time I catch a trout that somewhere in that frog-brain is a great appreciation for impressionistic art.

I can however tie knots. Tying your own leaders requires little other skill.

SO:  the Albright knot.

I've lecture notes and recipes and various volumes with sections on leader design. I still play with my own.

I had this week what I believed was the "wonder leader"  idea which I rapidly tied up last night. Lou the foxhound and I went out to a clear spot beside one of my meadows (which needs a good scything) to cast it.

I used my McKellip M84 4 wt which is just a outstanding piece of equipment. It's a strong 4 wt that casts a beautiful line. It's a great rod.

So, my leader threaded and attached is the extra-large size wool dab representing a big bushy dry ... and collapse.

I have leader designs from others that will throw such a fly. Most require five or seven step-downs through the length which results in a great many knots and some serious attention to the process of composition. I keep trying for the right three-section 12-foot leader that will turn over delicate soft hackles (many will) or land a big bushy dry if the hatch comes on and Big Bushies are on the water.

So far, no joy. Close, but not yet.

Back to tying a bunch of knots and following someone else's template.

Of course, with every leader I am poking a stick (rod?) into the eye of the Trout Industrial Complex. I'm crafting my own gear. I'm defeating the commercialism of our pursuit.

I'm tilting at windmills.

I am doing it stubbornly knot by knot. You can almost smell the moral superiority in the air.

Now, where is that latest Orvis catalog? They come every week.

Prost.