"Home" Waters

"With rivers as with good friends, you always feel better for a few hours in their presence; you always want to review your dialogue, years later, with a particular pool or riffle or bend, and to live back through layers of experience.  We have been to this river before and together.  We have much to relive."
(Full Creel by Nick Lyons, Grove Press-New York 2000)

The Path In

     Two days ago, after finishing up all but a few things yet to be "tied up" at school, I headed out to my "Home" creek.  It's water that I cut my teeth on, and quite frankly, have been spoiled with.  I can get to it relatively quickly.  I can fish it with my eyes closed, I've fished it so often.  In fact, come to think of it, when my kids were younger I had them squeeze their eyes together like the shells of a frightened clam as we approached it's location.  That way the secret couldn't be pried out of them, and they could be truthful when they said they didn't know where Daddy had taken them fishing.  I've seen this creek at every stage of water level, and fished it in every type of weather.  I've come away several times when it's seemed that every living thing within a ten mile radius was obliterated.  I couldn't get anything to hit my lure on those days.  I've also caught some of my biggest trout in the bends of this little, nonchalant, trickling creek.  The things I know about fishing for trout (and I know I've only hit the tip of the iceberg) I learned here; from watching water, to seeing hidden locations, to pitching a lure.  Deer, wood ducks, otters and blue herons are but a few of the creatures I've seen over the years; many times it's been up close and personal.  The river itself has changed a lot too over the 15 years that I've fished it.  Bends have busted through to the other side of the snaking water, leaving only a trickle to run in the original creek bed - soon to be oxbow. 

Fallen Log Covered In Moss

Fallen trees, that created gurgling holes, have long since rotted or been ousted during rain-swollen washouts; only to be replaced by new ones, now lodged at a slightly different angle, creating a whole new way to go about fishing it. 

Moss Spore Pods

Home waters.  Fishing them, walking them, and knowing them helps you feel grounded; and yet, there is still that constant change that keeps you learning and appreciating it for both its familiarity and newness.
See you along The Way...
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"Now I've fished in a number of places over the years, and there are few things I love more than the adventure of wading into a new river for the first time or finding a new mountain lake.  Still, the home water infiltrates your consciousness in a distinctive and comfortable way.  It becomes an inescapable part of daily life."
(The View From Rat Lake by John Gierach, Simon & Schuster Paperbacks-New York 1988)

A Quick Pic Before Release

"The only way to become acquainted with a river or lake is to embrace it: Walk the shores, wade the shallows, cast a line into it, paddle a canoe on it, rig up a rope swing and drop, shouting, into the heart of it.  Knowledge comes with experience, a word whose root translates into 'being in peril.'  Risking peril puts us closer to a place than we can ever get by standing at a safe distance, watching."
(The River Home by Jerry Dennis, St. Martins Press-New York 1998)

Released Back Home

A Brief Glimpse Of A 14" Brown

                                    
"I've been fishing this little trout stream off and on for as long as I've lived here, which by now feels like forever.  I could say I learned how to fish for trout here and not be far wrong.  I've seen it in all of its moods and all of mine.  I've spent time on it with old friends who are no longer alive.  I guess you could say I've gotten a little sentimental about it."
(Standing In A River Waving A Stick by John Gierach, Simon & Schuster-New York 1999)

A Fish-Eye View Of Brown Trout Skin

Time That Was Bound To Happen

     I'll admit that I've had a bit of a plan for this entry bouncing around in my head.  One that I hoped would come with a punch, or the zest, to get back at journaling and blogging like I was for the first few months of the year.  Since the snow left and I've been able to work outside on our yard, I've been putting the hammer down.  With my son's graduation open house at our home, I used it as my motivation to push and get the landscaping completed beforehand.  I didn't have a concrete picture of what it would look like but I had a basic idea.  Several nights I was out working in the yard with a headlamp on, following a day of teaching, in addition to the many afternoons and weekends.  Family members, who were here for graduation, literally helped me finish it off the night before the open house; a good thing or it would have been a really late night.  I'm sure I'll write more specifically on the landscaping later this summer once I finish up the last few projects.
     Yesterday was the last official school day (for teachers...the student's last day was the day before that).  I still have quite a bit to finish off in my classroom and as an athletic director, but it's not pressing.  I'll try to get that monkey off my back in the next few days and weeks, though, so I can recharge before starting it all again in August.  The hardest part about yesterday's last day with the teachers was knowing all of the changes that will occur to our staff between now and the next school year.  I'll write more on that in the next few weeks too.
     Now, onto this idea for today's journal entry.  With our crazy spring, today was my carrot.  It was what helped me stay focused and pull the cart of correcting papers and tests, and doing whatever it was that I've needed to get done lately.  I told people, "When school's out, I'm going to get up early, drive two hours North, be in a creek at sunrise, fish, get out, eat lunch, take a nap, journal then fish some more before coming home."  As I come off a school year and period in my life when I'm bound by time to the nearest minute; I thought I could journal a play by play of what happens throughout my adventure, but then slowly let the strictness of time melt into words that simply express what's going on.  The yoke of time could be laid aside whether the reader realizes it or not.  By telling you that up front, I truly don't think I am ruining any surprises.  Fred Gipson told you "Old Yeller" was going to die on the first page of his classic novel, and you still were intrigued to read his story. It's more about the relationships of the characters and the experiences they had.  Perhaps this adventure would similarly hold true; an adventure of time that would be boundless.
     
Thursday, June 4th
11:23 pm : Went to bed after an emotional day at school and preparing for tomorrow's adventure (picking up the Jeep from a shop in Rockford where it got a check-up, purchasing a fishing license in Janseville a bit later and then packing).
Friday, June 5th
2:14 am : Woke up
2:36 am : Got up and turned off the clock radio that had been set for 2:45.  Dressed.  Made a fruit smoothie of banana, pineapple, strawberries and Greek Style yogurt.  Packed the rest of my extras, used the bathroom, and said goodbye to Cindy.
3:05 am : Backed out of the driveway.
3:53 am : Passed the US Highway #12/18 exit going into Madison, WIsconsin.
4:23 am : Left Interstate I-90 and headed due North on Interstate #39/US #51.
4:50 am : Came off the Westfield exit.  Saw 7 different deer, in the growing predawn light, that almost jumped in front of me.

5:10 am : At the creek.  Cool and over-cast...perfect!  I texted Cindy I was here and then let my cousins know as well (they are an hour ahead in the eastern time zone).  We like to know when each other is out, even if we personally can't be.

 







5:40 am: In the creek and released my traditional plug of cedar with a prayer.  While getting ready, I heard the sounds of a red squirrel along with a pileated woodpecker, flicker, sandhill cranes, cooper's hawk, and a host of other birds I recognized but can't match to the species.

7:54 am : Had a hefty strike, followed by another, after switching to a heavier and bigger spinner that got deeper into the holes.  The Fox Valley Trout Unlimited Chapter and WDNR had been doing some work here that had created some open/stable banks and nice bends/holes.  Unfortunately I lost that lure on my next cast when it snagged on something underwater.
8:28 am : Caught an 11 inch brown trout that I kept.  Typically I catch and release my first one of the season, but I didn't feel I should with this one since it took me longer than I like to get the hook out.  The trout in this creek hit "crazy hard" (when they do hit :) no matter what size they are; as they are wild and feisty.

9:24 am : After catching and releasing two more nice brown trout, my graphite pole broke.  It's an ultralight, but still; a break on the lower, handle section?  It hurt too; because when it snapped, the broken section "sling-shot" back into my finger.  

At the same time I also lost another lure...an old silver spooned one that I had caught the first three trout on.  I wasn't really pulling back that hard when the pole and then the line broke.  It probably was time to regroup anyways.  When I had lost my first spinner, it took with it the only swivel I had apparently brought.  The fishing I had done since then was really twisting the line, to the point that it wasn't working well at all.  Later on, one of my cousins commented, "What word does Mike say out loud when he smashes his knuckle and breaks his pole in one fell swoop? I am still jealous of you." (Of the opportunity to be out fishing.)  I replied, "Actually I stood there in the water dumbfounded and didn't say a thing...probably more dumb than founded."

9:38 am : Took some pictures of some wild lupine plants that I found 

after climbing out of the creek...and barely made it to a secluded section of the pines to go potty!  (There's a lot of layers to peel off when you have a back-pack, fishing vest, and waders on.)
10:18 am : Packed everything back into the van and headed out in search of some swivels.
10:48 am : Finally found and then purchased some swivels and two replacement spinners in the little town of Coloma.  I hate going back in to "civilization" when I'm out, but I didn't have much choice if I wanted to keep fishing...which I did.
11:51 am : Back in the water after checking out some upstream, headwater areas of the same creek and eating lunch (PB & J sandwich, strawberries and cheese/crackers).  I broke down and wore my mosquito netting while in this area.
12:56 pm : I caught my 6th total trout of the day (3rd in this section).  It was a 13 inch brown trout that I kept.  This section of the river is tight and brush covered, but it still manages to have relatively deep bends, up to three or four feet deep, where trout can hide.

1:57 pm : Decide to turn around now to head back.  I caught six or seven trout in this section.  Took some more pictures of native plants while walking out.

Wild Columbine

Wild Iris

2:25 pm : Arrive back at the Jeep and then drive back to this morning's section.
3:13 pm : With the seats folded, I lay down in the back of the Jeep to take a nap.  I have the windows down and the back hatch open.  Mosquitoes are a non-issue...thank goodness!
4:20 pm : Woke to cool air and oven birds singing.  I began journaling and reading.
6:35 pm : I ate a dinner of a PB & J sandwich, nectarine and some chips.  Reorganized my supplies and began getting ready to hit the water again.
6:58 pm : Hiked in so I could fish back.
7:09 pm : In the water.  This section has big, deep bends.  I have to get out onto the bank to get around a few of them because it would be over my waders.  The setting sun is directly in my eyes...can't wait for it to go below the tree line.
7:49 pm : Blue jays (the first I've heard of the day) are in a raucous and catch my attention.  As I turn to look, I realize they are chasing a barred owl that perches on a branch above me.  At first it is looking behind itself at the blue jays, but then it turns and looks right down at me standing in the water.  I am frozen, and it's a stare off, until it flies off to another tree back on the last bend; the blue jays in hot pursuit.
7:58 pm : Arrive at a wide, sweeping  bend that's been in the shadows for some time.  It is here that I catch a twelve inch brown trout that literally hits my lure so hard it launches out of the water on the outside bank and lands in front of me.  It's a good fight and I decide to keep it.

This is a "Category 3" section of the creek, which means you are allowed to keep up to three trout (that are a minimum of 9 inches long).  For all of the times I've come to this river, I've often only caught and/or kept a total of one or two trout.  Several times I've come away with nothing caught or kept.  This creek is so beautiful though, that I love coming back to it regardless of the outcome.  The banks are lined with tag alder and red osier dogwood along the water's edge, and tamarack, white pine and oaks further back.  

Tamarack

Tag Alder - Female Catkins/Cones

     The bottom of the creek is golden colored sand that descends down into dark holes on the outside of the bends.  It definitely beckons me back from afar.  Creeks of potential & promise are like that.

     I take a picture of the last rays of the day reflecting off from the water and then hike back to the Jeep.  After putting everything away I send a text that I'm heading home to my wife Cindy, my cousins, my parents and then my teaching team.  These are people that know I was out today.  As I drove the country roads leading back to the highway, every field had at least a half dozen deer in them.  I was tired on the way home, but I was content too.  I had literally spent the entire day on the river; a day that was boundless in time.
See you along The Way.