Documenting The Story

“The water itself, being the most passive of elements, happily takes on the character of the country it runs through – fast, slow, deep, shallow, whatever you want – and the trout are very much like the water.  They’re numerous or few, they grow big or stay small, as conditions dictate.  They do exactly what they’re supposed to, no more, no less.”

John Gierach – The View From Rat Lake (1988-Simon & Schuster Paperbacks, NY)

Droplets on a Spider's Web

I’m not going to write too much tonight.  I don’t need to.  The pictures and videos will speak for themselves and document the story.  This morning I was up at 5:00 and in the water by 7:00.  It started to drizzle about then, and throughout the morning it actually rained hard several different times.  It was under those conditions that I thought I’d have a lot of hits while trout fishing.  In actuality it was marginal; but throughout the course of the day the action picked up significantly.  In the small little spring creek I was fishing, there are both brook and brown trout.  When I fished a different section of it two weeks ago (A Simple Day), I mostly caught brookies; and they were no bigger than ten to eleven inches. 

A Twelve Inch Brown That I Ended Up Keeping

Today I mainly caught brown trout throughout the morning hours.  I like to “keep score” of how many I catch of each species when the fishing is good.  The browns took a commanding lead today, and continued to add to their score even if I brought a brook trout to my hand.  The brookies were sure and steady, however; and they eventually surged ahead, as the weather cleared, and didn’t look back.  What was the final score you ask?  Brook trout 17, Brown trout 13.  Amongst the fish that I caught were several good sized ones.  I landed a sixteen-plus inch brown, in addition to 3 twelve inchers.  For the brook trout, I caught three or four in the twelve to thirteen inch range.  I have never caught so many fish in one outing.  It was a lot of fun and I hated to quit.  

When I ran out of water, with my total count of trout at 30 total fish, I took one more cast.  It was then that I caught an eight inch chub.  It was a sign that I needed to call it a day.  From those I caught today, I released all but 2 that I kept for a meal later this fall (one of the 12” browns, and a 10” brookie). 

A 16+ Inch Brown That I Caught And Released

A Beautiful Brook Trout In Fall Colors That I Released

It was 2:30 and I still had a forty-five minute hike out on the trails to reach my Jeep, and then an hour’s drive to reach home.    It was a great day, in a secluded setting, with beautiful scenery and fish.  It’s a story I won’t soon forget.

See you along The Way…

A Simple Day

            I have a few outings and adventures that are building up, and that I’d like to write into this blog, but those will come out over the next few weeks and months; stories worth telling when the time is right.  Today I went fishing in a small creek north of here that I hadn’t been to all summer.  It’s a story I decided to tell now, so I don’t have to try to keep the details stored in my brain.  I follow a few other bloggers who also like to fish for trout, and they keep it pretty much short and sweet.  I’ll do the same today.  I’ll keep it simple.

            I’m a week and a half into the school year now, and on the brink of attending cross country meets on Saturday mornings. I love the district I teach for, the staff I work with, the team I am a part of, and already enjoy the students I have this year, but with the pressures that come with newness, mandates, and expectations, I needed a way to gain perspective and have a healthy way to work out my thoughts.

            It rained hard last night, but luckily I got the hayfield (err, lawn) mowed beforehand.  I was a little leery to get up prior to the crack of dawn, because I didn’t know if the creek I wanted to head to would be full to overflowing or not.  I had already thrown my gear into the back of the Jeep just in case.  I got up, took care of the dogs, had breakfast, and debated whether I should go or not before finally taking the steps to leave.  I needed to get to that creek whether it was full of water or not!

            When I arrived, I had to thrash through the edge of a tall prairie for a half mile, and cross over a backwater drainage ditch to get to the creek I wanted to fish.  

I took a few videos to document my progress.  The mosquitoes were absolutely thick, bloodthirsty, and relentless.  

I could pretty much guarantee that I’d be the only one out there.  It was going to be great whether I caught a trout or not.

            I got in the water around 10:30, and although it was a bit high from the rain, I didn’t have to worry about any holes in the bends of that creek that are over my head.  So I fished on.  Over the course of the next 3 hours I caught twelve brook trout, and one small brown.  The colors of the brook trout that I held in my hands were simply beautiful, and vibrant; there’s no other way to describe them.  

An Awesome Little Fish-Caught & Released

I brought three or four other brookies up to me, but couldn’t bring them up to my hand before they flipped off my spinner.  I also saw two fairly large trout follow my lure up to my feet before darting back under a nearby bank.  Of the fish I caught, I released all but three of them; each of them about ten inches.  The action I had was enough to keep me going until it was time to turn around and hike my way out.  I don’t always keep the fish I catch, and I often release those I do, but these I would fix for dinner tonight.  

Although it was overcast, sometimes misty, and even foggy as the warm, muggy air settled over the cold, spring fed creek, it was a perfect setting to fish in.  It was a simple outing for what I needed today; the first weekend after my first full week of school.

            I came home, took care of some “chores” and then set to preparing a home spun dinner.  After my cousins and I had texted back and forth a bit about our day’s outings and such, I called my cousin Brad to get the specifics on how he had smoked a trout we had had earlier this summer.  I picked some zucchini, summer squash, and tomatoes from our garden, and cut them up to cook in a dab of olive oil.

 I then got down our little Weber Grill, and opened a new bag of lump charcoal to start a small fire to smoke the trout.  I even used a small piece of apple wood from a branch off the tree next to our house that didn’t leaf out this year, so that I could add it to the charcoal for a bit of flavor.

            It was, of course, a delicious and perfect meal to share with my wife and daughter; and after talking on the phone (old school?) to my son who is at college; we took a ride in the country.  It was a simple day.  It was a good day.

            See you along The Way…

A View Of The Lake

A journal entry from Saturday, August 6, 2016

following our annual, family trip to Michigan.

            Can you smell the water in the breezes off the lake?  It’s the same smell that has been associated with this scene looking out over the rippled aqua-blue for as long as I can remember.  I know you can hear it.  The lapping of the waves on the shoreline; slapping the sides of the boats as they bounce, tug, and jostle in their moorings beside the dock.  The boats out on the lake race by, sometimes simply to see how fast they can go, often times pulling skiers or tubers in wild-eyed excitement.  After the boats pass, the cadence of the waves speed up and grow in volume, when the liquid frequencies left behind, finally reach the shoreline.  

Kayakers and those on paddleboards cruise just outside the docks; out past the brightly colored windsocks and kids wrestling, flipping, diving, and cannon-balling out into the air and water.  With the passing of the cumulus clouds, the shades of blue out on the surface of the lake shift as the sun sifts down through the gaps. 

The shades create lines of distinctions, much like the lines on a map that mimic a depth chart.  All of this from under the shaded canopy of the giant white oak; on a little deck out in front of the family’s homestead.

See you along The Way…

A Refreshing Beginning

*Written a week ago - on Saturday morning, July 23rd, 2016*

            I’m not sure what happened, but somehow over the course of the last several weeks, the amount of time that I sleep throughout any given night has slipped away like sand through an hour glass.  As the summer goes along, a person tends to stay up a bit longer anyways, but with my family’s schedule involving work and practices, we continue to get up early.  That, coupled with some health issues and surgery that my wife has bravely battled through, and you have the ingredients for some short nights and long days.  None of the issues involving time mattered now though, as I was once again back North with my cousins; in the heart of Northern Lower Michigan.  We travel to camp in one of Michigan’s beautiful state forests once a year, next to where I grew up as a young lad.  I slept last night (Friday night) for just shy of four hours, or maybe it was five; we don’t keep track of time much, but I also get mixed up between reading my watch that I have laying next to me, seeing it’s time, but also moving it ahead one hour for the eastern time zone.  The point is that I got some sleep and it took the edge off.  When nature began to call, as I lay within my new tent, I knew it was time to get up.  After slipping in and out of the tent under the declining light of the waning gibbous moon, and the gentle glow of a rising sun an hour or so off from breaking the horizon, I turned on my lantern, tucked back down into my sleeping bag, and began to write. 

I had begun thinking about last night, and I had to get it out onto paper.  I would have documented it in my daily journal, but after two full years, and the aforementioned schedule lately, I’m like two or three weeks behind.  It presents itself as a bit of a problem.  My wife says I simply need to draw a line and start afresh.  I’m kind of under the notion though, that I’d like to at least briefly document each day’s events for the last few weeks; in brief snippets of facts for all that’s happened recently.  Regardless, I pulled out my writing journal instead.  After only sleeping two and a half hours on Thursday night, I got up and put the last few things into my Jeep, said goodbye to my wife, and left the driveway and Northern Illinois at 3:00 a.m.  I wanted to beat the heat, as my Jeep doesn’t have air conditioning and it was suppose to be “up there” with the temperature and humidity.  I made great time traveling through Illinois, Indiana, and into Michigan; rolling into town after about seven and a half hours of driving.  I stopped at the familiar State Park for a vehicle sticker, now known as a recreation pass, which I needed for camping out in the state forest.  Together with my cousin Brad, we then met my high school friend Tim for lunch.  Afterwards, Brad and I picked up my fishing license, bought enough food for one meal, and headed out to the woods.  We would complete our grocery shopping for the trip in the morning when we came back out to meet my cousin Brian; as he was coming up a day later.  Brad and I found a familiar site along the river that we’ve had twice before over the years.  After determining who could set up camp where, we began to start the process of unloading our gear.  Cousin Sean joined us at that point, as he had had to put in a couple of hours of work before driving up to meet us.  Brad and Sean hung their newly made hammocks to sleep in, and I pitched my tent.  After jumping in the river to rinse off and refresh, following a hot afternoon, we cooked up a dinner of beans, brats and sauerkraut.  It hit the spot, although as Brad and Sean said, “The only thing missing is the feeling you have that’s close to exhaustion; when you’ve worked hard all day and then eat that kind of food.”  It wasn’t as though we hadn’t worked to drive and then set up camp, it’s just not as much work as when we hike and fish all day (See “Bogged Down”).

Following our meal and clean up, we got out our waders, and boots, and gear.  All of us had invested in new boots and waders for this trip, as time and use had ravaged our old ones.  And so there was the usual reprieve from rushing around to get our suspenders adjusted, and the feel just right.  Not much daylight was left, but we walked downstream a ways so we could fish back.  The efforts were relaxed and we talked as we walked.  Upon entering the waters we thanked God for the tradition we’ve been able to continue now for nine full years, released a plug of sacred cedar, and then stated fishing.  Of course Sean hooked a fish on his first cast.  That’s a bit of a tradition too.  Not that he catches fish on the first cast every outing, but that he catches fish fairly consistently with some obscure spinner that he’s simply picked out and uses as his “spinner of the week”.  Luckily it was just a small little trout; a brook trout; and it fell off the hook before he could bring it to his hand.  Brad and I smiled, shook our heads while mumbling something about how he does that, and then started casting as well. 

    We continued on in the dwindling light for several bends without anything to speak of, other than little hits from trout that wouldn’t fully hook on; that is until Sean remarked that he thought the copper colored spinner I was using should start working for the brown trout who would be coming out to feed in the growing darkness.  No sooner had the air for those words left his lungs, when my lure suddenly hit a snag; a snag that was moving!  It was a load.  It was a slab.  It was big.  It was beautiful.  It was the first monster brown trout of our trip.

            As the male ruffed grouse drummed its wings off in the distance, and a whip-poor-will started its distinctive call that mimics the sound of its name, we all knew at that moment why it is that we do this trip.  This was going to be refreshing.

            See you along The Way…

Caught, Photographed, Revived and Released

Never "Too Much" River

“Water draws the only straight lines in nature.  It is in curvatures, however - in movement - that its true character comes most clear; where a velvety layer of limid water spills over granite ledge, for instance, defining liquidity.  This should not surprise us.  The earth is beautiful because of water.”

John Jerome - Blue Rooms (1997-Henry Holt and Company, New York)

In this blog entry I’ve documented three different outings I was fortunate to have had on some of our area rivers in the last week and a half.  The first outing was with my family on rippling Turtle Creek.  The second involved a friend and his son, together with my son Todd and I, on the snaking Sugar River.  The third trip brought area teachers and members of the “Gulo Adventure Clan” onto the steady Rock River.

Pictures & videos follow each entry.

On Saturday, July 2nd my family loaded up the old Dodge Ram that Todd has been borrowing from Grandpa Firman this summer.  It’s a perfect vehicle to throw our old canoe and two kayaks into, strap them down, and drive the back roads to the “put in” spot.  

On this day we traveled up to Shopiere, Wisconsin and Sweet Allyn Park. We unloaded our gear, and then Todd and I took the truck to our drop off point at the “Town of Turtle Canoe Launch” off South Creek Road.  Afterwards we traveled back in our old Jeep to meet the girls.  It was also the maiden voyage for our dog Kora.  All week I had been getting her used to the canoe in our back yard; having her getting in and out and rocking it around while she was sitting in it.  

She enjoys water, so we decided to have her be a part of our adventure.  The day was perfectly cool early on and then warmed up as the day progressed.  This typically is a fairly quick run, although the water was low due to the lack of rain recently; so for that reason we were a bit slowed when we scraped bottom and had to get out and pull our vessels over the gravel bars.  That led to some consternation, but the struggle also allowed us to get out and play in the water from time to time. Kora ran in the shallows, and probably could have done that all day.  I love this little creek, as it’s shallow in most spots, has a gravel bottom in this section, and has clear water so you can see fish and other fun critters under the surface.  At one of our stopping points we were fortunate to see two red-tailed hawks sitting in a tree beside the creek.  The way they were calling, and since they were not spooked by our presence, it led me to believe that one of their young (called an “eyas”) was up in the foliage, undetected.  Once we were out, a bit difficult with the bank you have to get up, we all loaded back into the truck, drove back over to Shopiere to pick up the Jeep, and then made our way home.

Jodi, Kora and Todd-Sweet Allyn Park-Shopiere, Wis.

Cindy and Kora

Red Tailed Hawks - Do you see the 2nd one?

The Family on Turtle Creek

On Saturday, July 9th our friends, Mark and Garret, drove to our house by 7:30 am and helped Todd and I load the gear that we had stacked and ready to go, into the truck and Jeep.  This time we headed westward out to the Sugar River. We dropped our equipment off, completed the vehicle drop-off, returned to the boys, and then began paddling downstream a little after 9:00.  Mark and I manned the canoe, as it was loaded with an arm full of firewood, and a tub of our food and cookware.  The boys had the kayaks.  Mark and I have gone out on outings with the boys before (See “Men Of The Hood”), and so with Garret college bound this fall as well, this was a chance to continue our friendships with a summertime adventure.  We talked, laughed, found a sandbar to cook breakfast on, stopped to swim and cannonball off the bank into some relatively deep water (if you ran hard and jumped far enough), and had a race down the last stretch to the takeout spot.  We arrived only slightly out of breath. They say, “To the victor goes the spoils,” and perhaps it does.  Our spoils were already cashed in, however, after a great meal, beautiful scenery, a hot sun over cool water, and playing in the water; before we had a picture taken and packed everything back into the old Dodge Ram.  We picked up the Jeep, and through tired eyes, headed back home.

Breakfast on a Sandbar of the Sugar River

Mike, Todd, Garret and Mark at the "Take Out"

Yesterday, on Monday, July 11th, after having left the canoe and kayaks in the back of the truck after Saturday’s outing, I met a group of the “Gulo Adventure Clan” at 7:00 on the Rock River in Roscoe.  We planned a Riverside (Park) to Riverside (Bridge) extravaganza.  The group is made up of guys tied in one way or another, either past or present, to the Prairie Hill School District (Prairie Hill & Willowbrook Middle School).  My friend Louie and I started the madness eight years ago, with an “End Of The School Year Adventure.” Although Louie teaches at Roscoe, we had coached boys basketball together at Prairie Hill for 9 years, and had grown into good friends through the process.  After 5 years of enduring everything from kayak trips, to long distance hiking and biking, we opened it up to some other friends, and then eventually to all of the guys at school.  It’s always an open invitation, so that without pressure men can join us if they want to, based on their schedules and the activity we have planned.  Yesterday our group consisted of Louie, Justin, Tyler, and two new inductees: Doug, and Greg who was five years out of retirement.  This was a different kind of paddling than my first two trips; the Rock River is wide and sweeping. It was early enough though, that we paddled with virtually no other boat traffic, and if you hugged the inside of the bends that turned to the left (as we headed south) you could take advantage of the shade from the trees that provided relief from the hot sun bearing down on us.  The wind was also out of the south, so we paddled into that head-wind most of the morning.  Greg and I paddled the “Party Barge” canoe while the others took to the kayaks.  We stopped at Atwood Forest Preserve at a perfect time for a break, and quickly cooked up the infamous breakfast over a wood fire on one of their massive grills next to the picnic shelter.  It was the inaugural usage (out-of-doors) of my new fifteen inch iron skillet.  The sucker weighs 12 pounds, and is not for the faint of heart.  I figure that on these water outings it could do as an anchor in a pinch!  The rest of the guys talked and tossed around a football while I made the fire, added the ingredients, and cooked.  After presenting the newbees with their official membership cards (thanks for starting the applause Justin), we ate in the shade, under the roof of the shelter, for a break from the sun.  After cleaning up and hitting the water again, we made one more stop alongside the Forest Preserve Headquarters.  We were hot, and needed to cool off, so we pulled up on a sandy shore and dove in for a few minutes. Nothing is quite like your first swim in the Rock.  It really was refreshing, and had we not had to finish off the trip, I think Greg would have reverted to his high school days of distance swimming and gone all the way across the river.  We continued on and arrived at a little marina, near Riverside Boulevard in Rockford, after about three total hours of paddling; four and a half hours with the stops.  The crowning moment was when we then pulled the kayaks out and loaded them onto Louie’s pontoon boat and tied the canoe on behind.  As he said, “This is the first time we’ve gone down and have come back, all on the river.”  It was a great ride back up the river to Riverside Park.  That aspect of the adventure took about an hour and a half, but it gave us the opportunity to continue the conversations, and enjoy the homes and views along the banks. You can never have too much time on a river.

See you along The Way...

Doug, Mike, Louie, Tyler, Justin and Greg at the "Put In"

A twelve pound skillet with a Million Dollar Meal

View of the Flotilla from the "Party Barge" Canoe

A quick stop for a swim break

End of an Adventure - The trip back up River

“I find myself thinking that we’ve finally succeeded in getting away from the world, and then realize I’ve got it backward.  The world - the phenomenal world, unmediated - is just what we’ve found our way into.”
John Jerome - Blue Rooms (1997-Henry Holt and Company, New York)

The 4th of July

Two hundred and forty years ago a new nation was founded; the United State of America.  Many years have gone by since the Congressional delegates from the thirteen original colonies debated and amended “The Declaration of Independence;” and although we live in a new era, it is sometime interesting to note that the words and wisdom of the past can apply to our present world.  Below I have rewritten excerpts of various speeches from two of my favorite presidents of yesteryear; Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Delano Roosevelt.  Their words, written for events taking place during their terms, still ring true today.  The excerpts were taken from a book entitled, By These Words by Paul M. Angel (1954, Rand McNally & Co.-New York)

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Lincoln:

Mike and Jodi at Lincoln's Tomb - 2013

*An excerpt from Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address - November 19, 1863

            But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate – we cannot consecrate – we cannot hallow – this ground.  The brave men, living and dead, who struggle here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.  The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.  It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.  It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us – that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion – that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain – that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom – and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

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The 1865 Inaugural Address-Click to enlarge and see Abe

*The end of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address – March 4, 1865

            With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in; to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow, and his orphan – to do all which may achieve and cherish a just, and a lasting peace, among ourselves, and with all nations.

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Roosevelt:

FDR's Four Freedoms Speech - 1941

*Excerpts from Franklin D. Roosevelt’s message to Congress – January 6, 1941

 (Eleven months before Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii)

            In times like these it is immature – and incidentally, untrue – for anybody to brag that an unprepared America, singlehanded, and with one hand tied behind its back, can hold off the whole world.

            No realistic American can expect from a dictator’s peace international generosity, or return of true independence, or world disarmament, or freedom of expression, or freedom of religion – or even good business.

            Such a peace would bring no security for us or our neighbors.  “Those, who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.”

            As a nation, we may take pride in the fact that we are softhearted; but we cannot afford to be softheaded.

            We must always be wary of those who with sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal preach the “ism” of appeasement.

            We must especially beware of that small group of selfish men who would clip the wings of the American eagle in order to feather their own nests.

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            In the future days, which we seek to make secure, we look forward to a world founded upon four essential human freedoms.

            The first is freedom of speech and expression – everywhere in the world.

            The second is freedom of every person to worship God in his own way – everywhere in the world.

            The third is freedom from want – which, translated into world terms, means economic understandings which will secure to every nation a healthy peacetime life for its inhabitants – everywhere in the world.

            The fourth is freedom from fear – which, translated into world terms, means a world-wide reduction of armaments to such a point and in such a thorough fashion that no nation will be in a position to commit an act of physical aggression against any neighbor – anywhere in the world.

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            This nation has placed its destiny in the hands and heads and hearts of its millions of free men and women; and its faith in freedom under the guidance of God.  Freedom means the supremacy of human rights everywhere.  Our support goes to those who struggle to gain those rights or keep them.  Our strength is our unity of purpose.

            To that high concept there can be no end save victory.

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“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is Freedom.” (2 Corinthians 3:17)

See you along The Way…

Summer Solstice

            This past Monday was what is commonly referred to as the summer solstice.  Upon looking at various Google sites, I found that the Latin word for this is solstitium.  “Sol” means the sun, and “Stitium” means to stop.  It makes sense.  It is on this particular day that the sun ceases to arc into the northern sky as it rises in the east and sets into the west.  By being in this most northerly arc, based on our Earth’s revolution around the sun, it creates the longest day of the year.  It is opposite of the winter solstice, and the shortest day of the year that I wrote about in December (click here for the link to that entry: Winter Solstice).  So, from this day forth, until the end of this year, the days will now grow shorter as the rising and setting of the sun sinks towards the southern horizon.  This solstice coincided with a full moon, something that had not happened for seventy-some years.  This month’s moon is known as the strawberry moon, and coupled together with there being the most amount of sunlight; it made a perfect recipe for a day-long adventure.  I decided to go trout fishing on a favorite creek two hours north, in the middle of Wisconsin.

            After Cindy and I celebrated a fine Father’s Day with our parents and family, I began to prepare and pack.  I finished early enough that I was able to get to bed at a reasonable hour; at least it was reasonable compared to past standards.  After sleeping for about four hours, I started to stir.  I tried to lay back down, but inside I knew it was a done deal; it was time to rise and head to the North.  I got up, dressed, and packed my cooler with food that I had gotten ready beforehand.  I was out the door by 3:15 and only stopped once to fill up with gas in Janesville (it was cheaper there by six cents a gallon).  Passing Camping World northwest of Madison, around 4:20, I saw their huge American flag.  I wondered how much that thing weighed.  I wondered if there are bigger sized flags than that one.  It certainly is patriotic, and in lieu of some of the things going on in today’s world, I like it.  I’d like to think that I recognize it for all it stands for and represents (usflag.org).

Heading North into the Light

            I continued north and arrived in the gravel parking lot by 5:23.  I was pretty sure I would have the area to myself, and I did.  I got my supplies laid out, got into my waders and boots, and began the hike soon after.  I did stop before plunging into the brush, to apply a coating of bug spray high in DEET.  I always hate to put bug spray on, and have been known to endure (bug spray-free) some pretty crazy situations, where the mosquitoes and deerflies would drive most people mad, but until the wind picked up a bit I decided to be proactive.  I chose an entry point just beyond where I’ve gotten in before; expecting that over the course of the next few hours I would work my way upstream and back to my Jeep.  I was in the water and making my first cast by 6:15.  The sun was just cresting the tree tops, but shadows remained on the bends.

            Deep, dark bends exist in this section.  Although the water was cloudy for some reason, with patience and stamina I made it through, and back to the bridge near where I had parked.  I didn’t catch or see anything huge.  I have fished a lot of little creeks and have been surprised by the size of the fish that have come from them.  For that reason I’ve convinced myself that big trout exist in this creek, because there is a lot more water available.  What I caught were nine brown trout.  Their sizes were: 9, 14, 6, 7, 10, 11, 9, 7, and 11 inches.  Nine fish for about six hours of fishing.  It was not great, but enough to keep me going; there was always hope up around the bend.  I kept the 14 inch brown and released the rest.  I was pretty whipped when I crawled out of the water, but after eating my lunch (sandwich, yogurt, and a chunk of cheese), and resting a bit by sitting on the back of my Jeep in the shade, I recovered enough to have another go at it.

A Fourteen Inch Brown Trout

            With my waders still on, but pushed down to my feet, I decided to drive a few miles northwest to a narrower, headwater section of the same creek.  It was midday now, and I thought that with the clear, sunny skies, I might have better luck in this more wooded, enclosed, and shady section.  I fished for three more hours; rumbling, tumbling, stumbling, and bumbling in a tangle of brush.  I managed three more fish; two nine inch and an eleven inch brown trout.  I released them all.  It was a lot of work and my patience was growing thin as my fuel tank neared empty.

            Coming back through the woods to where my Jeep was parked took the last of what I had.  I took my waders off, put my stuff away, and ate what I had brought for a dinner (brat, apple sauce, and crackers).  I then drove back to my original spot where I had started the day, after checking out a few other spots I may be able to fish in the future.  I needed a nap and so I parked in the gravel lot on the west side of the road.  This way the towering white pines would provide me with some shade.  I rolled the windows down, propped open the rear hatch of my Jeep, laid my sleeping bag out at an angle in the back, and proceeded to lay face down and fall asleep to the sound of the breeze in the pine boughs.  It was the same breeze that had kept the bugs at bay all day.  Later my wife asked me how I can sleep like that when I’m out in an unknown area, and all by myself.  I’ll admit that I’ve thought about that before, but like the advice most parents give their kids who are afraid of something, “They’re more afraid of you than you are of it.”  I’m not sure how much that helps squelch a child’s fear, but I guess I assume most people wouldn’t approach a Jeep parked in a lot with the windows and backdoor open and bare feet sticking out of it.  I guess the site of what I must look like to people who might nose around, helps ward off the riff-raff.  Plus, I wake to most noises I hear.  I’m usually so tired by that point, however, that I really don’t give a rip if someone happens by; it’s exhaustion through elation because I’ve had the chance to do what I love to do.

            I slept for an hour, and then groggily rose and started getting my gear together for an evening outing.  I texted my wife to let her know what was going on, and that I was trying to muster the energy to get back in the water one more time to fish the shadows of dusk.  In doing so, I thought about having to drive back in the dark verses arriving back at home as it became dark.  I decided to call it a day.  It was 6:30, so I’d been out for over twelve hours that day; this longest day of the year.  I stopped for an ice cream cone before I got back on the highway, using change from the center console of my Jeep.  I arrived home a little after 9:00.  I had started the day before the sun was up and finished after it had gone down.  It was a great day to celebrate the stoppage of the sun in its most northerly path; the summer solstice.

See you along The Way…

The Setting Sun

The Rising Moon