Adventures in Canoeing on the Rogue River

The Rogue River, through Rockford to its
mouth at the Grand River (our journey)

This post is tremendously overdue.

Although many details have faded due to the time elapsed (it's been almost two weeks since our trip to Michigan!) I feel obligated to record at least part of the story. As I mentioned recently, things have been pretty crazy. I left my job at Columbia College Chicago, started a new one at ChartCapture, and have spent most of my free time fishing. The idea of sitting back down at the computer has not been appealing to me, so I haven't done it! I sit here now, fueled by a big ol' cup of coffee, hoping to get this little story out there and get my personal fishing records all caught up.

I've mentioned my fishing mentors various times here; Mark, Rob, and Luke. They are the trio who introduced me to fishing, got me hooked, and have provided lots of hints and tips along the way. Almost every time Claire and I head back to Michigan for a birthday, holiday, gig, or whatever, I end up fishing with at least one of these guys.

The last trip to Michigan was no different- at 5am (4am my time) I was at Rob's house, trying to down enough coffee to make sense of things, ready for my first time in a canoe.

Turns out, three people in a canoe may not be ideal. Although I've spent a lot of time in kayaks (in the past two years) I'd never been in a canoe until then. It was hard for me to judge whether canoes are just incredibly unstable, or our canoe shouldn't have really had three big dudes in it. Rob, Mark, and I arrived at the Rogue river before sunrise and started casting. Our quarry was trout, and on one of his first casts Rob landed what turned out to be the nicest fish of the day, a 14" brown. Somehow, the only picture I got of it was right before we ate it a few hours later. It was delicious.

EDIT: I found the "before" picture...

What a nice fish right there

What a great fish: great fight, super pretty colors, very tasty

We hopped in the canoe, paddling downstream with the hopes of covering a lot of water. Almost immediately it was clear it was going to be an adventure; even the smallest set of rapids gave us grief, the canoe pounding the rocks, throwing us off balance, teetering closer and closer to the water. One of our first direct hits jolted the canoe, almost tossing us out into the river. Mark was in front "watching for rocks" (each rock would be announced milliseconds before we slammed into it! it made for exciting canoeing) Rob was in back "steering" (who knows where we were going) and I was in the middle doing my best not to rock the boat. Most of the time I crouched down in the canoe, my knuckles white as snow as I clutched the side, expecting a cold river-water ejection any moment.

We hit a big rock, the canoe tipped to the verge of flipping; Mark fell backwards onto me and his ultralight rod, snapping either the rod or me, I couldn't tell. Turns out it was the rod. I have to give mad props to these two gentlemen; for the amount of trouble we had getting down the river, I don't think I heard a single profanity escape their lips! Me on the other hand, well... Let's just say there were two streams that morning: the river, and what was coming from my mouth.

As the morning went on, Mark and Rob both caught trout on little tiny spinners. I was amazed such small spinners could even be cast, let alone land 8-10" rainbow trout. Rob graciously let me borrow one of his ity-bity spinners, which I tied on with haste. I proceeded to miss what seemed like hundreds of trout taking swipes at my spinner. Some of them launched clear out of the water, but none of them connected.

It was exciting and frustrating. I varied my retrieves, faster, slower, faster still; and finally somehow managed to hook my first fish of the day. Before a picture could be taken, the little rainbow propelled itself out of my hands and returned to the water. Soon after that I landed my first brown trout that wasn't a tiny 5" juvenile. Rob came over to document the moment for me; he also documented the exact moment the little brown decided it was time to return to the water, as I desperately tried to keep it in my hands.

Check out that pretty little brown!

..and then it released itself

Great! I caught a brown trout, something that is more or less impossible in Illinois (you can catch them in Lake Michigan, but I've never been able to).

We headed downstream, my knuckles burning from gripping the canoe so tightly, Mark's still functioning malformed and broken rod still able to catch fish, Rob trying to disguise his worry every time we heard scraping and breaking sounds come from the bottom of the canoe... It was a great time. Between rapids I shoved beef jerky and trail mix in my mouth. It was good I wasn't paddling; I would have definitely put us all in the water.

Every time we encountered a fishy spot, we hopped out of the canoe and fished it. As the day went on and wives inquired to our location, we realized we didn't know where we were. My phone had no service; Mark and Rob had partial service. We realized we had a long way to go, and decided to push down the river in earnest.

One of the two rainbows I caught that morning

As we headed downstream, I was amazed how the character of the river changed from stretch to stretch. Some places shallow and rocky with fast current, others deeper sand flats, others rocks and gravel and sand with slower current, others just mud. Astounded would be too light a word to describe how I felt about the water clarity; for the most part I could see completely to the bottom through the gin-clear water. It was awesome.

At one point we reached a set of rapids clearly too much for our overloaded boat. I got out to carry some gear through the forest while Mark and Rob- expert canoe-ists- managed the rapids. I filmed their journey with my camera, but upon later viewing it was clear what the camera saw and they experienced were too different things. What shows up as a .mov file on my computer looks like an easy float downstream I'm sure caused their lives to flash before their eyes.

We desperately paddled (by we I mean they, since I was on canoe-clutching duty sitting in the middle) as the clock ticked and the day aged. Rob suggested I cast a bit while we canoed, so I did. We reached an area that looked like smallie territory, and Rob confirmed indeed it was. Smallies and trout, in one river? My mind exploded a little, but it didn't stop me from casting. Every so often Mark or Rob would point out a particular spot, I'd cast there, hopefully not catching my lure on anything. There was one close call with a tube jig: I had to cut the line or else the force of the canoe might have pulled the rod out of my hands!

As we floated down river, I cast to a spot Rob suggested and immediately hooked into a fish- I yelled "Fish!" My fishing partners put the brakes on the boat as I fought with a small monster- a monster I'm much more familiar with than those Michigan trout... I pulled out a very nice Michigan smallmouth bass on my go-to white twister tail.

Check out those colors

That fish was enough to halt our journey; the other two guys jumped out of the canoe and started fishing. Almost right away I connected with another fish, and a few casts later got him to commit. Thanks to Mark for manning the camera!

Big ol' rock bass from the Rogue River

A few minutes later Rob landed a smallie as well, but I'd be remiss if I didn't acknowledge how much bigger mine was. I've learned a lot from my fishing mentors, including how to give each other &$%# for their tiny fish.

Rob and an ok smallie (just kidding, it was great)

Pretty soon it was time to head out. We passed a lot more fishy looking spots that almost certainly held fish, but we were already more than an hour behind schedule. Somebody had underestimated the length of our journey. (I'm talking to you Rob!) Not that I'm complaining, I thought it was great. I could have fished that river all day.

When all was said and done, we had traveled more than 7 miles on the Rogue River, caught a bunch of fish, almost died about twenty times, one of us got a leech on his leg (hint: it wasn't me), and we created some real nice memories. They will stay with us for a long time, maybe even longer than the deep gouges on the canoe.

Trout on the Rogue

The Rogue River at Sunrise

We were heading to Michigan this weekend, and there was no way I wasn't going to be fishing in this incredible weather. After about a hundred texts, I had two partners, a location, and a quarry: trout. My friends Rob and Mark and I were going to fish the Rogue River for steelhead.

Woke up at 5am on Saturday, which of course was actually 4am for me due to the time zone change. If it means fishing such a great spot as the Rogue River, I don't mind getting up that early at all. Made a pot of coffee, put on some long underwear to go under my jeans under my waders, and for the first time this year busted out my new fishing/wading vest.

It's a nice lightweight one from L.L. bean, with tons of pockets and places to hide fishing gear. The problem is I'm not really sure how you're supposed to keep lures in the pockets... And in one pocket there is a piece of white fur or something with a safety pin on the back. What the hell is that for? Pretty sure it has something to do with holding flies for fly fishing, but I know almost nothing about that world of fishing...

I kneeled on the floor, my tacklebox open and my vest on me, trying to figure out how to move lures to my vest. Do I put them loose in the pockets? Do I stick them to the furry thing? Do I have to use little boxes, and put those in my pockets?

Well I only had one little box, so I filled it with a bunch if homemade inline spinners and shoved it into a pocket. I still had tons more lures I wanted to take, so I just shoved those in pockets too- hooks and all! Pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to do, as I immediately began hooking my fingers anytime I went into the pockets... But hey you do what you gotta do for fishing.

After a few minutes by vest was about 10 pounds heavier, filled with anything and everything that might possibly catch me a fish on the Rogue River. This was the very same river I waded back in November searching for salmon. I didn't find any salmon, but I did land my first brown trout. It was a tiny fish, but was one of the highlights of my fishing year. I knew there would be a variety of trout in the river, and of course spring-run steelhead salmon. Although it would have been amazing to hook into one of those, I knew I'd be ecstatic catching even a tiny trout of any species.

I put on my vest, a few hooks poking through my pockets, and I made a last ditch google search for "spring steelhead lures" as I downed my coffee. The Internet told me most people fly fish for steelhead; if not, most people used spawn (fish eggs) under a bobber. I didnt have any spawn. The third option seemed to be small inline spinners. Well I was in luck, because id been making spinners all winter and had a ton of them, many dangerously poking through my vest.

Around 5:45am Mark arrived, not awake yet either, and we quickly loaded my mini with gear and headed out. Let me tell you, nothing says fishing more than two guys and a ton of fishing gear in a green mini cooper.

By the time we got to the river, it was about 7am; I'd consumed the better part of a pot of coffee, and was itchin' to go fishin'. Somehow, all three of us had miscalculated (read: misread) when sunrise was. When Rob showed up a few minutes later, it was still absolutely and completely dark outside, save the waning gibbous moon poking through the trees. Sunrise was at 7:50, not 7:05!

Unsphased, we hopped into our waders and trekked into the dark.

Many who know me know about the strange neorological condition I experience called synesthesia- basically all my senses are connected. When I hear music I also literally see it, like an abstract "fantasia" or something. The same thing with any sound, like rushing water. As we walked along the river in the dark, the pulsing white paintings of the water rushing illuminated the darkness to me, a strange juxtaposition with the almost complex darkness.

This is kind of what our trek looked like
(we had fishing rods instead of guns)

As I followed Mark and Rob through the foliage, it reminded me of a mission in Call of Duty where you're a sniper sneaking into an enemy base. The outdoors is still pretty new to me, and there are many experiences I've only had in video games- like a bunch of guys, loaded down with gear, hiking through the forest on a mission. It was great to do this in real life, even though I was armed with a fishing rod, not a sniper rifle. Hopefully it would be just as deadly to the fish!

We passed many fisherman, apparently waiting for sunrise to enter the water. After a few minutes, we reached our destination and entered the water- we didn't wait for sunrise, it was fishing time! Rob and Mark easily waded through the water, but it took me a few minutes to regain my "river legs." i momentarily forgot how to wade, and went very slow to avoid getting all my gear prematurely wet. Rob directed us to a promising looking spot, and we began fishing. rob gave me some tips regarding casting location and retrieval speed, which I promptly forgot- I was still trying not to fall of in the quickly moving water!

We fished as the sun came up, and we were able to see our surroundings slowly lit up by the sun. As it shone through the trees, rays of fog lit up like laser beam security systems in art museums in movies (you know what I mean). The scene could not have been more beautiful. It was hard to focus on fishing when my surroundings were so beautiful... But not that hard.

I threw inline spinners, little white marabou jigs, and some plastic spawn imitation stuff that Mark gave me, which was apparently at least 10 a years old. Rob got a hit early on, but was unable to hook the beast. After a while we saw some steelhead jump out of the water, confirming we were in the right place!

Fishing buddies
Rob on the left in a nice fly-fisherman pose
Mark on the right not fishing for some reason...

Although there were definitely fish there, we couldn't get them to take our lures. After a while we decided to move downstream, working our way back to our cars. The scene was idyllic, but nobody was catching fish- and there were tons and tons of fishermen (and fisher-ladies) all along the river. A quick hike around a seemingly abandoned paper mill and a short drive upstream, and we arrived at our new spot just downstream of the Rockford dam.

Walking along the bridge, we looked down and saw at least three big fish (steelhead?) hanging out in the river. They seemed to be taunting the 20-or-so anglers standing in the river in the short stretch around the bridge. The water was so clear (I'm not used to that in my normal Illinois spots!) I wondered if the anglers could see the fish staring back at them.

We hiked through a gauntlet of thorny brush and finally made our way to spot near the steelhead. Rob stayed on the bridge, helping us find the fish. Mark I both proceeded to hook everything around us, except of course fish. The banks were lined with thick foliage; I spent about 10 minutes untangling my line from a single jerk-of-a-bush. The anglers in the river watched in amusement (or apathy, it was hard to tell).

I decided to move farther upstream, to avoid both the bushes and other angler's lines. I saw a guy catch a "nice" brown (I thought it looked humongous) which only fueled my fishing lust.

I fished for a while, and although I didn't get a single tap on anything I threw, every 10 seconds or so I saw a little skinny fish (baby trout?) jump out of the water just feet in front of me. The fact that I was standing in 3 feet of water and these jumps were almost at eye-level made it even more exciting. (remember, I'm super short)

A homemade spinner

Mark caught a fish! I quickly hopped over to see him unhooking a super nice brown, must have been at least 18". I marveled at the beautiful fish, and speedily ran back to my spot. He caught on a tiny silver mepps, retrieved very quickly. I pawed through my hook-lined-pockets, causing many small holes in my hands, until I found the smallest spinner I had. I lost a few upstream, so I only had one small spinner. This was the first one I'd made with a floating fluorescent body, originally with hopes of catching fox river walleye. Let's see if it could entice trout...

I cast it out far as I could upstream, and reeled in as fast as I could. Immediately I had a bump that was unmistakably a fish!! Fish!!

Forgetting Rob's earlier advice, I'd mostly been retrieving kind of slow, thinking I would be too fast for the fish. Now that I was burning the lure through the water, the fish were interested! I saw the flashes of 3+ fish following my spinner as it came toward me in the clear water.

Second cast, a hit, and then it felt like I was pulling my spinner over corrugated cardboard... As it came closer I saw a fish attached to my lure. FISH ON! It took every fiber in my body to avoid jumping up and giggling at the 8" fish I'd caught. Had I been alone, the river would have echoed with the high pitched squeals of a five year old!

I reached for the fish, excited for a photo, and it jumped off circle hook and slipped back into the water. That's ok, I thought, I'll just tell everyone it was a 19 incher. For the 3 seconds I saw it out of the water, I knew it was a trout, but I didn't know which one. Not a steelhead, probably a baby brown.

Next cast, another bump, and another trout! Same deal, as soon as it approached my hand it acrobatically jumped off the hook and back into the water.

A few casts later, same thing... Well at least I was figuring out a pattern for these fish! My homemade spinner, 2 feet below the surface, retrieved quicky.

And then, finally, I managed to get one in my hand long enough got a snapshot! Of course it was the smallest one I'd caught, and as no sooner than I'd captured it in my photo library, with a quick wiggle it was back in the water. I later google image searched, and confirmed it was a brown.

I know it looks like I'm strangling it, but I was holding it
pretty lightly.. you can see the tail starting to move- it jumped
right after this picture was taken!

Soon after that we had to go, due to our wives expecting us back... But all in all an amazing morning fishing! Although I still hadn't hooked into a beast of a steelhead, or any beast for that matter, the experience was awesome... And I did in fact catch four trout on a homemade lure, wading the beautiful Rogue River, with some great fishing buddies.

How now brown trout?

Pure Michigan!

In Michigan for the weekend, I had to get my obligatory Michigan fishing in. Saturday morning I waded the Thornapple River near Grand Rapids, but got completely skunked (and very very cold). It was beautiful, but I wasn't able to find any fish. I decided to hit up another river on Sunday, hopefully I'd get into some fish this time.

It was cold, dark, and raining, and I left the house anyway. Mark told me about a great spot on a great river not too far from Grand Rapids- the Rogue River, and I was determined to check it out. It's not every day I get the chance to fish pristine Michigan waters, and I knew there were fish in there I wasn't likely to find at Busse or the Fox River. Fish like trout. Although I've gone salmon fishing a few times in the harbors in Chicago, I have yet to connect with one of those beasts. In fact, the only trout I've ever caught were 3 8" steelheads at Burnham in the summer.

I threw my stuff in the Mini Cooper, plugged my phone into the aux input, and accelerated onto the expressway. I tuned my Pandora radio to Mos Def, but I wasn't listening... I was fantasizing about the steelhead I was about to catch. Or kings. Or coho. I don't really know. Following my GPS and the pin I'd dropped on the secret location, I made my way to Rockford, Michigan, and parked.

I got out of the car, and looked down at the river. My first impression was a little bit of terror: it looked super fast and super cold. Was I ready for this? This would only be my 4th or 5th time wading. And it was cold out, not to mention raining. Like usual, I threw caution to the wind, and suited up.

The cold-looking Rogue River, Rockford, Michigan

I headed down a path, walked under a bridge, and immediately noticed a ton of "PRIVATE PROPERTY: NO HUNTING OR FISHING" signs everywhere, all around the path. Mark told me the day before Michigan law allowed anglers to use a reasonable amount of bank to facilitate fishing public waters, so I wasn't too worried about the signs. But I have to admit, every time I heard a branch crack or a squirrel jump I expected to turn around and see a shotgun-toting Tea Party member wanting me off his property.

Mark told me I should cross the river where there were a bunch of riffles, or a little rapids. I slowly and carefully made my way into the water a little upstream of the rapids, noting how much warmer the water seemed than the Thornapple yesterday. I'd been told the Thornapple was spring fed, and always super cold; either way, the Rogue didn't seem so bad. Looking down into the water, I was absolutely shocked with the water clarity- I could see all the way to the bottom; the water was crystal clear! NONE of the waters I fish in Illinois are crystal clear like this. I don't know if it's pollution, or mud, or the type of bottom... But this was incredible. The bottom of the river was covered with rocks and millions of vibrantly colored leaves recently dropped from the trees. It looked like a quilt, a myriad of bright colors shining up from the bottom. But I didn't see any fish there.

I snapped a Mepp's gold Aglia onto my swivel, thinking that might entice whatever trout or salmon happened to be lurking in these waters. I'd recently read about maggots, skein, and even nightcrawlers being successful on the river, but I hadn't stopped at a bait shop to get any of these things. Also, I didn't have any bobbers. So I was sticking with what I had, which was an assortment of inline spinners (store-bought and homemade), crankbaits, and jigs.

The flow of the river was pretty strong, much stronger than any stretch of the Fox I'd experienced. I started to get nervous, but I persevered; maybe the rapids would be better, I thought. I looked downstream and saw nothing but white water, flowing quickly over big boulders. It was pretty exciting- looking around, as far as I knew I could have been in some remote stream in the Colorado rockies; with the boulders, the pine trees, and the knowledge that there were trout in these waters. The roar of the rushing water filled the air. If there were any cars or trains or planes around, I didn't see them or hear them. I knew there were houses nearby, but I couldn't seem them either. I felt like I was in the middle of nowhere, in a good way!

I stepped into the rapids, and quickly felt the pull of the current. At this moment I was incredibly happy to have my improvised wading staff. Although it was just a broom handle with a hole drilled into it, a rope threaded threw the hole and affixed to me with a caribeaner, it prevented me from falling over in the water. I wasn't used to so many huge rocks, and it was challenging to navigate them while dealing with the very strong current. I took tiny steps, trying not to lift my feet too far off the bottom: when I did, they felt like underwater kites and were pushed by the current.

Every now and then I would pause, wondering if I should turn around and cross somewhere else. I looked around and realized I was already in the middle of the river, I might as well continue. I kept moving, slowly, every few steps almost falling over. I started to sweat. This was a workout- I could feel my entire lower body working to keep me vertical. I'd probably feel this tomorrow! Thank goodness for the wading staff. It saved me more times than I could count!

Finally, I was in a few feet of the opposite shore, when I almost stepped into a deep hole between some rocks. I quickly pulled back, using my broom handle to steady myself, the adrenaline shooting through my body. Whew! That was close! I paused, gathered myself, and carefully continued. At last, I was standing in a foot of water on the other side of the river. I walked downstream, closely following the shore, until I got to an island Mark told me about.

Here the bottom seemed much more sandy, and I sank in a little when I waded out to the middle. I was pretty sure smallies liked gravel or rocky bottoms (not sandy bottoms like this) but I wasn't sure about trout or salmon. I was also pretty sure there weren't really any smallies here, so it didn't matter what I knew about them! I scanned the water, trying to make some sense of all the currents I was seeing. There was clearly one big current coming from the rapids upstream, clearly identified by a line of bubbles quickly traveling down the river. I wondered if any opportunistic fish might sit right in the slower water right next to the faster water (I think that's called a seam...) waiting for a meal to go by. I cast my spinner upstream, and reeled it in right along the seam, just fast enough to keep the blade spinning.

I fan cast the area, eventually casting downstream and retrieving upstream. I'd had much more luck doing that for smallies, even though it didn't make sense to me (if the fish are facing upstream, seems like they'd be less likely to see food approaching from behind). I got hung up a bunch of times- especially casting upstream- but managed to keep my lure. 

After a while, three guys in kayaks came down the river. Two of them seemed like they'd never been kayaking before, and were spinning around and bumping into each other. It was pretty funny. When they saw me, they tried to give me a wide berth, but were unsuccessful. I didn't mind, I know it can be hard to control a kayak! I told them I hadn't caught or seen any fish; one of them said there were lots of fish in this river. I just hoped I could find them!

I continued downstream, slowly wading and casting in what I thought were good places. Places where the water spun in a circle, seams, on either side of riffles, all around boulders; I didn't see any fish jumping, and I didn't see any fish under the surface. Although I wasn't wearing my polarized sunglasses, I had no problem seeing all the way to the bottom. The leaf-patchwork and rock bottom was beautiful to look at, although there weren't any fish. I was surprised I didn't see any baitfish, especially in some slow moving water under tree branches close to shore.

At one point, moving to a good location, I had to wade through some deeper water. Until this point, I thought the water wasn't too cold, and had even taken off my sweatshirt because I was too warm. There was a very particular point when the cold water swirled almost to my waist and I changed my opinion. I decided the water was extremely cold.

Over the course of an hour or two, I slowly waded downstream, and threw a variety of different lures. A few different crankbaits, some Sims spinners (they cast so nice, and seemed to reach the bottom more easily in the faster current. I'd heard trout and salmon might hang out near the bottom....), and some other inlines. I also threw a little homemade spinner that had a bullet weight for a body. It also was able to stay deeper, closer to the bottom, although nobody was interested in it. I wondered about color selection in this water; I was pretty sure in clear water, you should use more natural-colored lures since the fish can see them better. On the other hand, it seemed like most salmon and trout lures where brightly colored and absolutely NOT natural-looking. I'd have to do some more research about this.

Casting to many VERY fishy locations, I started to get frustrated. I hadn't seen a single fish, certainly not any big steelhead or salmon swimming around. No fish jumping, no little baitfish swimming around. I did see some bugs on the surface of the water, but was not able to find any small fish eating the bugs. What gives?

Thinking I wouldn't have any more luck, I decided to head back upstream toward the car. I could cast along the way, but I didn't expect to get into any fish. I made my way to the shore, and started walking upstream on a path. The forest was extremely beautiful. Although the rain had stopped earlier, everything was covered in just enough water to make it shine and glisten as the sun shown from behind clouds. The leaves were tremendously vibrant, covering every square inch of the forest floor. The sound of rushing water was all around me.

I saw a guy fly fishing near where I'd originally entered the water. I had fished there, and got nothing. He was standing only up to his knees in water- could there really be nice trout or salmon swimming around right there, around his legs? I have a lot to learn, apparently. He said he had a nibble, but had only been there a few minutes. I told him about my skunk, and continued up the river. 

I reached the bridge, near where I parked, and noticed some interesting looking water upstream. Mark suggested the river downstream was better, but I hadn't had any luck there. Maybe I'd try working some of the water on the other side of the bridge. Making my way along the path, I saw the river seemed to split; it looked like a little creek joined the river here. Hmmm, I thought, I think this kind of spot might have some fish...

Turns out, there was at least one fish here

The bank was extremely steep, and slippery from all the wet leaves, but I somehow managed to get down to the water. I stepped in, 4" of water barely covering my boots. I figured I would fan cast the area before going deeper. Who knows...

To my left - downstream- the water flowed to a bunch of rocks, which after a small rapids traveled down and met the main branch of the river. To my right, the water was slow, a slow stream seemingly coming from the forest. Having lost my #2 Mepp's Aglia on a branch earlier, I snapped on a #2 Black Fury. I'd had a lot of luck with these lures lately, even though I was pretty sure they were supposed to be best in low-light conditions. This wasn't a low-light condition- it was about noon, and the sun was up in full force. The clouds were dissipating, and it was turning into a really nice day.

I cast downstream, my spinner landing inches from the edge of the rapids. I reeled in a bit, and let it fall. I began reeling again, when I felt was was absolutely a hit. A hit!! This was no snag, this was a fish investigating my lure! After all that wading, crossing rapids, and I got a hit only a few feet from my car. Sweet!

I cast again, trying to get to the same spot. I got it pretty close, but no hit. I cast a third time, this time much closer to the original spot, not even 3" from the edge of the rocks, the mini waterfall. I must have let the spinner fall to the bottom, because it got stuck on a rock or some leaves. I casually began to reel it in, ready to clean off the treble hook, when there was a splash, and I saw a fish. A fish! On my line! It wasn't leaves, it was a fish!

Like a jolt of electricity, the adrenaline started pumping and suddenly I was completely focused on the task at hand. I had a fish on! There was NO way I was going to let this one get away. I quickly reeled, and soon realized it was a tiny fish on the end of my line. There was no real fight, it was like reeling in a bunch of leaves. When the fish got closer, I saw it, and literally yelped for joy. 

I knew it was a trout. I had seen pictures of this kind of fish, although I couldn't remember exactly what type it was. As quickly as I could, I got the fish over land (I was only standing a foot from the bank) so I wouldn't lose it. I had to get a picture of this one!

I dropped my rod, and held the fish in my hand, getting the hooks out of its mouth. I yelped some more, wanting to jump up and down with joy. "Holy $&*@" I said way more times than necessary. It was a tiny fish, and hadn't given any fight to speak of; but I had caught a trout, on a cold Michigan stream, while wading. It was like some Hemingway novel, or some "Pure Michigan" commercial. It was awesome! I was beyond ecstatic. 

This was by far, hands down, the most beautiful fish I'd ever caught in my entire life.

I caught a brown trout!!!!

In my mind I tried to go through the thousands of fishing web pages I'd seen in the last few months, trying to remember trout identication, to put a name with this fish's face. It definitely wasn't a salmon or steelhead; I was pretty sure it was either a brook trout or a brown trout. I seemed to think one of those was the state fish of Michigan. This was great. Michigan is awesome. The night before, Claire and her family and I had gone to a Bell's Beer dinner at the golf club. Besides drinking way too much delicious Bell's Beer, I'd also won a raffle for a Two Hearted Ale baseball cap. Not only was that my very favorite beer, but there was a trout on the beer label- and the hat. Since I was wearing my new Two Hearted Ale trout hat and caught my first Michigan trout while wearing it, I decided this hat was now not only my favorite hat ever, it was my lucky trout hat.

I took about 60 pictures in quick succession (ok, more like 15) not wanting to hurt this little guy. He was such a good looking fish, and I wanted him to grow up to be a bigger good looking fish. Every few seconds he would squirm, and I could feel nothing but muscle on this fish. I wonder if that's how all river fish are, since everything in their world wants to push them downstream. It's like constant exercise- no wonder they're all ripped!

After 30-45 seconds of pictures with my new buddy, I put my phone back in my waders, and bent down to the water, carefully putting him back in the stream. He didn't do anything but sit in my hand, so I moved him forward in the water, running water through his gills. I'd heard of people killing pike by moving it forward and backwards in the water, apparently suffocating it (I guess gills don't work backwards). I did my best to only move this trout forward in the water, reviving him. After a few seconds, he suddenly realized he was back in the water, and swam off.

I stood there, in awe of the amazing fish I'd just caught. Although it wasn't a 10 pound steelhead, or even a 1 pound fish, I landed a trout while wading. I felt like a real fisherman- with waders, a thick unkempt beard, and a hat and an iphone library with trout on it.

I worked every square inch of the entire little stream, but was not able to locate any more trout. I really didn't understand why a little fish like that would position himself so close to the edge of a little waterfall. Seemed like any momentary lapse in concentration and he'd be pushed over the falls by the current. I moved a little farther upstream, again going above my waist in very cold water. Again I didn't think the water was cold until it reached a certain point. Now I was cold!

It was early afternoon, I was cold, and I was hungry.. and I'd had in my mind a completely successful fishing outing. I waded a roaring, rocky, beautiful Michigan river and caught a trout. That was really more than I could have asked for on a rainy Sunday.

I crossed the river, this time NOT at the rapids (which I found much, much easier to do), and reached my car. Very satisfied, I pulled off my waders, untied my boots, and broke down my fishing rod. A few short minutes later I was headed back down 131, the foot heaters blasting, my iphone photo library filled with pictures of a single beautiful trout.

Another shot of my first brown trout
(note the bell's two-hearted ale hat, with a trout on it)