On Number Fifty

            I’m 50 and a ½ today.  I wanted this to be my 50^th blog entry on my official half birthday in my 50^th year, but then I went and had a couple of adventures two weeks ago, and so that idea went out the window.  I simply had to write about those outings, if only for their uniqueness.  I started this blog two years ago today (See past blog “Half Way There”).  I’m still trying to figure out if it really is very “funny” how time flies.  When I think back to my 50^th birthday last summer, I do feel a smile spread across my face.  Not because of anything funny, but rather something very memorable.  I had just come off from running an ultra marathon that spring; 50 miles for 50 years.  That was definitely memorable, but my birthday was in a class by itself.

            My birthday was on a Sunday this past July 24^th, ironically on “Cousins Day.”  I’m not sure what that means, but I was with three of my cousins on that day while on our annual camping and fishing trip in the North Country of Michigan.  Having already been in the woods for two nights, we awoke early with the sun.  I fixed everyone my classic breakfast of potatoes, eggs, and sausage.  Afterwards, I read a few verses from the Bible that seemed to fit where we were at in our spirit and environment.  It’s kind of a tradition on the Sunday morning before our day’s outing.  It seems to provide insight before we hit the river to fish.  By then I could hardly contain myself, as I had been hiding a gift for each of them.  Over the years, we’ve caught some great trout of great size.  Those memories run deep for each of us, as we had some lean years back when we first started coming on this trip, when we basically caught nothing.  On this day, my birthday, I presented each of them with a framed picture of themselves with one of those trout; Brian with a rainbow, Brad with a brown, and Sean with a brook trout.  This meant a lot to me, as I had been fortunate enough to have been with each of them personally when they caught the trout pictured; great stories and great memories.  They returned the favor, and gave me a hammock that Brad had made for me, and a shirt that Sean had designed and had made for each of us.  Those were heartfelt gifts.  I wear the T-shirt all of the time, and I’m looking forward to this summer when I can fish, set up that hammock to take a snooze in the woods, and then fish some more.

Brad, Brian, and Sean - Pictures of Memories

The setting moon opposite of the rising sun

            By the time we were finished giving gifts, the sun was rising, we were getting antsy, and someone was probably mumbling something about whether we were going to sit around all morning or get our waders on and head out.  Actually, when it comes to fishing in the morning, the someone who is usually mumbling is probably me, but others have been known to utter such things depending on who we’re waiting for that has wandered off somewhere, or who’s still down in the outhouse.

After a long hike in, we're ready to rock it out on the water

            And so we took off hiking the trail, several miles downriver.  The skies promised to be overcast as the morning progressed, which usually means you can sneak through the water without your shadows giving you away.  We fished for hours.  It was a bit slow going, but we each caught little ones at various points.  Mine was a rainbow fingerling; small, but a trout nonetheless with the telltale, pink stripe and jet black dots.  That was it for me that morning.  Soon after, I broke the end of my pole, two tippets back.  I couldn’t believe it, but I tried to make the most of the situation, despite the fact that the flexible end of my ultra light pole was busted off.  I fished on.  Near some deep water, Brad caught a couple of nice brookies and had a big brown trout chase his lure several different times, but to no avail. 

                                                                        

                                       

Sean had caught a big one in the bend just around the corner from that deep water the year before, so we had hoped for a repeat performance.  Regardless, Brad really appreciated all of the advice that we heaped upon him; things that he should have done if he wanted to actually hook and land that trout.  You could tell he was contemplating our loving advice, and hoping to catch it next year.  In the meantime, we only slept with one eye open the rest of our time at camp.  A few hundred yards up from there, we reached a classic run in the river with beautiful grassy banks that big fish typically come charging out from.  Instead, the banks provided excellent seats for us to jump up onto with our legs dangling in the water.  We relaxed, talked, and ate our apples, and sandwiches, while drinking water from the spring back at camp.  Soon after, we reached a bend with a really deep hole where I had caught a really nice brown trout a few years back.  We fished it, but got nothing.  Brian and I decided to try hugging close to the bank, and climb up and over a log jam. It was risky, but fishable water was on the other side.  We were mere millimeters from the tops of our waders, while walking on the tips of our big toes.  Forgoing the ballet of synchronized swimmers, Brad and Sean got out and walked the bank, while looking for a place to get back into the river.  Brian and I safely made it over the obstacle, while eyeing the inside bend, opposite of where the bank walkers were.  Flipping my copper colored #3 Mepps from the less than flexible, broken tipped pole, I made the cast.  No sooner did my lure hit the surface of the river when a huge wake, pushing lots of water, surged out from under the overhanging grass.  Fish on!  It was a monster brown trout, as the video from Sean can attest to.  To believe it you’ll have to watch the video from where it starts, following a jump and several runs.  (Sorry for the continuous dialogue...I need to learn to keep my mouth shut when I'm in those situations and on video...nervous chatter I guess...part of the excitement).

Once brought into my new landing net, I had to work to get the barb out of the brown trout’s hooked jaw; normally something I’m quick with.  I worked for five to eight minutes to try to revive the fish in the water.  His fins were moving and he was trying to gulp oxygen, but he wouldn’t push off on his own.  It made me sick, but I didn’t want to let him go and watch him go belly up in the current only to become otter food under a bank downstream.  My wish, as it is with all big trout, was to release him as cleanly as I had on my trout two nights prior.  (See past blog: “A Refreshing Beginning”)  He just wouldn’t stay upright though, and scoot out from my hands.  Because of that response I decided to keep him, but I’ll admit it hurt to justify it.  While I have kept some fairly big trout when I first started fishing, and while I do occasionally keep medium sized fish to eat, I like to know that the big trout that I’ve caught are still swimming somewhere in a favorite river.  I did smile for some pictures, however, as I was still pumped from having caught my biggest trout ever; and that on my birthday.

Twenty Three Inch Brown Trout

            After the rush from that experience we were all pretty excited; part of the reason that we will fish all together from time to time.  It’s fun to watch when one of us can catch one of those big ones.  We fished to the next bend, only to allow Brian the chance to throw a lure though a run where he had caught an equally big rainbow a few years prior.  Hiking back to camp became our priority then, as storm clouds loomed in the west.  We arrived in time to strip off our gear, change, pack the trout in ice, and head out for a few hours towards civilization; an easy drive beyond our camp.  The Straights area was our destination; near Cheboygan.  Brad and Brian were scheduled to pick up some fish mounts there.  They were mounts of some trout they had caught a few years prior.  They’ve caught other big trout since then, and while they always release those, these that were mounted were their first.  They were special.  Jeff Migda had performed the artwork and taxonomy of their trout.  We contacted him as we drove, catching him in his boat as he was fishing.  He said he wasn’t catching anything anyways, the storm was approaching, and that he would meet us at his shop.  We told him we had brought my recently caught brown trout for his new project.  When we arrived, we talked, caught up, marveled at the mounts, and showed him the brown.  It’s one I’ll look forward to picking up next summer after he’s done working on it.

            The rain had slowed by then and we were powerfully hungry as night time was setting in.  We ate at Mulligan’s in town.  Their Mexican food really hit the spot, and it beat trying to fix a meal in the dark and rain.  For my birthday, we also went to The Big Dipper for some ice cream.  The cousins extended their generosity and covered the cost between them.

            Typically once we’re in the woods, we hate coming out.  After a long, memorable day, however, a day that I turned 50, we made the most of that afternoon.  On a day that was dubbed “Cousin’s Day” by somebody, somewhere, we spent most of the day in the woods and in the river, and a little while in town.  We were looking forward to heading back to camp though.  The following day was another day of fishing on a different river.  Home is where the heart is.

            See you along The Way…