Another Sunday run south of the border. Crappy weather, my girl handled it very well. Windy, rainy, cold, the 1.5hrs of sunlight was welcome but left us for more clouds and rain in the later afternoon. Fished from ~12noon till ~6pm, first creek was a new spot. It was beaver town, slow backed up water that looked so damn good but held few fish and those that were seen were closer to 6inches rather than 16. Second creek was a bit turbid from cattle activity, the trout were in full spawn, redds everywhere. I watched a couple brown’s spawn for ~30minutes while Liz was working a group of trout upstream. Very cool to watch them so vulnerable up in the riffles, half exposed in some cases. I watched and took note of a brookie that swam up a riffle to root up a bed of cobble with which to lay her eggs in, sweet. Liz is coming along well, she has spent more time fly fishing than I have but that time was spent years ago when she would fish with her father, she is quickly falling back into the swing of things. Rounded out the day watching her take over a half dozen RBT and BNT roll casting a lightly weighted #12 Black Hairball (no indicator) on a long stretch of slow moving water that would give any fly angler a difficult time.

Other Notables:

• Viewed the Upper Iowa River from a most excellent perch.
• Brook, Brown and Rainbow trout slim covered my hands by the day’s end.
• Watched Liz crush a brown working a #18 BWO Dry fly.
• Liz fished nymphs without the aid of an Indicator and did very well.
• Many more Brook trout caught this day.
• #18-20 BWO’s seen hatching in small quantities at ~2:30pm.
• Liz had a BNT Dogger on the line but got off before it could be landed.

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Fished a creek with Sershen yesterday, we’ve been able to get out a handful of times lately and it’s been good. I’ve advocated creek dueling with a friend before. I dig talking trout, tactics and everything else while fishing with a good friend. Everyone has that person who matches their style well and things just work, simple. Simple is good. Once onstream we hit the creek hard and hiked close to a mile downstream without stopping or checking the creek out much. We moved far from the banks and took in the forest around us. Cooler air temps have created excellent afternoon fishing this August with hoppers hopping and BWO’s popping.

I fished a #8 Yellow Hopper first hoping that the pasture we found ourselves in had seen its share of these creatures and the fish would readily rise for a big meal opportunity. My instincts were right on, shortly after dressing my fly to ride high I was into wild brown trout. We fished a larger creek offering with it the opportunity to spend an afternoon in knee deep water tossing flies, I typically avoid standing in the creek but if done properly one can take quite a few fish from a single run even standing next to your prey. A bruiser took a swipe at my fly as I drifted it through a small piece of pocket water, it came riding by quickly and I think he simply missed the mark. I enjoyed seeing his backside flashing me before he dove for the depths.

We took a handful of trout with Hoppers and Stimulators as we worked the pasture up, splitting runs apart back and forth was common place, we also randomly drifted apart at times to get entire riffle/run/pool sections alone. The depth of the water was pushing me to see what a streamer might produce but the lure of the rise had me and it took a while to put the SMB on. Eventually working through a forested section I switched flies and roll casted my streamer to the opposite bank as we moved upstream. A handful of BWO’s ranging from #18-22 were seen and netted in my hat but few fish were surfacing. Working a deep hole a couple brookies chose to give up a picture with the Sprinkle Me Baby, I love catching brookies and I love seeing it go down even more. I watched as my fly drifted deeper and deeper until a white mouth opened wide and with that a tight line.

We pushed on but the setting sun forced us off the creek and to water closer to home before the day would be done. The first stop gave up a brown and two rainbows in ten minutes while a swarm of mosquitoes took their toll on exposed flesh. These super skeeters cut through shirts, pants and even my buff. Normally bugs don’t bother me but this was the exception. Ten minutes was all I could handle and we were off to the last spot of the evening. On location we peered through the weeds to see a scant few stocker rainbows, my dinner stop. I knew a few were around and with previous experience at this spot I slapped on a #8 Hairball and a single splitshot. A nice roll cast to sink the fly as close to the weed line as possible follwed by a short dead drift into a swing resulted in a handful of rainbows for dinner. Bows take the Hairball all day long. I found a smaller 8inch fish that took my fly as I dapped it on its face to get hooked and off only to get right back in line for another round with the Hairball. I figured this fish would only give it up twice but a decent drift with a twitch at the end put him right back on my Hairball for a third and final time. With dinner in one hand, my rod in the other and the sun setting behind me we took off for home. Brown, Brook and Rainbow, damn Southeast Minnesota has been good to me.

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The cooler air temp and lower humidity has made it a bit more manageable to get out during peak hopper hours. Heath and I have been fishing together since I began fishing for trout just over three years ago, he has been a sounding board for ideas and tactics, when we fish together we often stick close to one another and analyze flies, locations and presentations. The stream we fished was running gin clear and as we hiked downstream the five foot tall grass gave up the awe that is the plague. Hoppers, thousands in all colors and sizes, so many it bordered on the ridiculous if not the absurd. Rigged and ready we split up for a couple minutes, me with my Brown/Tan #10 Foam Hopper and Heath with what looked to be a #16 EHC. I took one on the second cast, a plop gave way to an aggressive strike from a 13inch brown. I fished back up to Heath and watched as his small EHC took a smaller Brookie, somewhere along the way Heath swapped to a hopper of his own and we progressed upstream. A short time later I heard something to the effect of “this is my first fish on a hopper.” Whaaaa?? A bit of floatant and a couple minutes later he fooled another, then another and another.

The rest of the afternoon was about as enjoyable a time I’ve had fishing since spring, taking turns casting big dry flies and enjoying the takes, splashy rises and sometimes awesome refusals. I eventually swapped to a #6 Brown/Yellow Foam Hopper simply because I was curious if the larger offering would produce larger trout. It produced one very nice fish that was improperly hooked and thus not landed, it also produced many, many taps and tugs from smaller fish. They were hitting the larger food item despite the fact they couldn’t fit it into their mouths, almost comical. Heath scored a rather nice looking brook trout to take the fish of the day and despite the fact that we had more time to fish we opted to head home. The heat was bearing down on us as a bit of cloud cover broke and we had gotten everything we came for. Fish the Driftless Area, Fish it Hard.

Post Note: A quick observation. How does a hopper end up in the creek? I figure one of three main ways, 1st the wind. 2nd, a disturbance in the grass like you or me… or cattle. Third, the random poor decision. I feel the first two are far more likely. So then it leads me to question: If cattle have recently come through and perhaps “primed” the creek by causing a handful of hoppers to become lunch will you have more luck as an angler because the fish have just had a consequence free meal? Or saw more hoppers in the creek in a shorter amount of time? Thinking out loud here.

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Damn, what an afternoon. Got onstream later than I wanted but found myself pulling up to a bridge with a family of six swimming in the big hole just downstream. The adults and I discussed fishing while I got my gear togather, the kids played in the cold water tossing sticks for the dogs. Trout water being enjoyed by all. As my time was short and I had not seen this section of creek we parted ways and I left the kids playing in the creek behind me. Weeds were of course up and tall crowding the already pretty thin stream. What it lacked in width it made up for with depth, a good situation for the trout and perhaps a more difficult one for me. I rigged a #14 Black Wet Fly and trailed it with a #16 Pink Squirrel, noting the depth around the first turn I added a single small split shot to aid the sink rate and moved upstream.

I found a good run and took my time getting into place. I could see from the banks I had chosen the right section of creek to satisfy my goals for the day…find brook trout. Their white fins giving them away as I peer through the weeds crouched on the bank. Rather than stand up on the bank and give my position away I slid down the bank wall and took a step into four feet of trout water. Normally I don’t cast from in the creek but sometimes it is the best option, a straight shot upstream with a marginally clear lane for a backcast behind me. The second my boots hit the creek I could see dirt plooms sending sediment downstream, those I had disturbed. I took another couple of minutes to let things settle and to observe my targets. I managed one decent cast with my two fly rig but missed the take it inspired only to lift my line up too sharply sending my flies into the bank riddled with 4-5ft tall weeds. I attempted to remove my flies without moving which resulted in a broken line and no flies…rookie mistake, 5x tippet… I could see my flies and rather than lose them I moved through the creek downstream to retrieve my goods.

On the bank I turned to see a rise from the run I was fishing, I looked at my flies and decided to try a #14 Orange Stimulator for maybe three reasons. 1st, there was a significant amount of instream vegitation which would hang up my two fly nymph rig, combine that with gin clear water and low flows resulting in disturbed trout from the splash of my flies hitting the creek. 2nd, Brookies take a Stimulator really well, they just don’t hesitate and tend to crush it. Finally the 3rd reason was my desire to fish a dry fly, to see the rise.

The first cast with the #14 Orange Stimulator proved I had made the right choice. Slam. A beautiful 8inch brookie, I’ve caught brookies before but not this many displaying the brightest colors I’ve ever seen on fish. I sat on that first run and moved maybe 2 feet in an hour. I’d catch one and send it downstream then turn wait a minute and cast again, for the most part they hit the Stimulator within two-three seconds of it hitting the water. They also tended to react more agressivly the higher the fly was floating, a couple nailed my fly as it was half sunk because I’m often too eager to stop and dress my fly properly (I’m working on that). I worked to the very very tip top of the riffle, in water less than 4 inches deep lay a nice 13inch brookie that I had seen rise once. I knew he was there, just a matter of get his friends out of my way without disturbing him. A couple more brookies and a brown later and I was grinning at the red belly flying through the air attempting to shake my hook.

My afternoon was made, long casts, dry flies and beautiful brookies. I moved upstream and took a handful more with my fly before it disintegrated before my eyes after about the 20th trout jaw took its toll. I swapped to a #14 Pink Head Stimulator and sure enough the brookies took to it. I landed a handful more before turning to head out. On my way I spied a hole and decided to swap to a #8 Black SMB just to see if anyone was home, the most colorful fish of the day came as a result. The icing on the cake and with that I was on my way.

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I spent Saturday reflecting on the 28th and what I would have changed about my fly selection or choice of presentation that might have altered the outcome of the day before. Sunday I was given the go ahead to wrestle my demons and headed to the water arriving at roughly 11:40pm. Similar conditions to the previous Friday, heavy overcast with a minor breeze. The air temp was a few degrees colder but not much (~20). I rigged a #8 Hairball (Tan) with no additional weight. First thing I took note of was the minimal impact it had entering the water, exactly what I was looking for. This pattern also has less flash and the flash it does have is pretty subtle.

I started fishing up a long slow section of creek that I knew held quite a few fish, upstream a hundred or so feet I could see dimples. The trout were up, I tossed my fly and very very slowly brought it back to my feet. I got a few strikes fishing the shallow edges of the creek. My thought was if I put the fly in on the edges and let it sink it would have less of an impact and thus disturb fewer fish. What I found was that I was tossing the fly basically on top of some of the trout, a few took the bait but most took off for deeper water. I hooked into a smaller brown but lost the hookset on a nice flying leap.

I moved downstream and fished the same fly through a deep run getting only one strike. I added weight and an indicator to fish the very bottom. I took my time and waited maybe ten minutes hunkered down in the snow watching the midge before I presented my fly to that group of fish again. Despite waiting nothing was having my fly. I moved downstream and lost the #8 Hairball to a snag, rather than tie on another I opted for a #16 Orange Scud. The first cast I made and moments after my line left the rod I had a strong strike that caught me off guard, it was a decent brookie that flashed me its colors quickly before throwing the hook.

Hiking further downstream spying rising trout through the trees. I moved to a run with multiple snags, lost two more Orange Scuds then, a bit frustrated I tied on yet another #16 OS and moved back upstream. From the banks I could see a pod of trout and ocasionally the larger ones would open their mouths wide, white inside, and pick something from the drift maybe a foot under the surface. They would move up in the water column a good foot to pick from the drift then settle back to the stream bed. My location wasn’t ideal, a barbed wire fence and steep bank forced me to spend ten minutes very slowly crawling to get in position. Sitting next to a feeder spring I took a couple of minutes to settle, I spied a bright blue can laying in a pile of water cress. I love beer but not here and not like this, it had to go.

I added another 18inches of 6X tippet and trailed my scud with a #20 Miracle Nymph. I removed the single splitshot and waiting until the largest fish I could see ate in front of me. I let 20 feet or so of line drift downstream to get it in the water and off my spool without spooking the fish, then I proceeded to make the first of three roll casts. The first fell short and sent two fish downstream, I waited and tried again the second got a look but nothing. The third and I felt a jolt. Although my target was across from me as I sat on the bank I put my flies upstream so they would have enough time to drift down and into the target zone (1-2feet below the surface). The strike came from a fish hiding out of view further upstream from my intended target. I set the hook and the fish ran down and into the target group sending them scattering, it then promptly raced for a snag and took my flies with it. Alot of prep work to sight fish a nicer 18inch brown to have it ruined by the unseen 13inch fish holding upstream but fun just the same. Upstream to finish the day where I began it.

I slapped on the #8 Hairball pattern again and sent it through the same slow straight section of water I began on. I targeted the middle of the creek, earlier hiking downstream I had been kicking up quite a few fish that were hanging in the shallows on the very edges of the creek. I believe they were in the shallows because tiny black stoneflies were emerging. As the afternoon progressed (~2pm) their presence in the snow in higher concentrations tipped me off. These stoneflies emerge as adults by crawling to the shallow edges as mature nymphs then splitting their carapace to allow the winged adult to continue the journey crawling through the snow. By 3pm the ratio of stoneflies to midge was almost at 1:1 making this one of the largest emergences of this particular insect I’ve seen. A few minutes later after slowly dead drifting my fly down the middle I hooked up with a 15inch Brown that fought well and soon made my day. I opted to finish the stretch and head home, last cast of the day proved to be a good one as a 13inch Brookie was waiting for me. I got to drive home with a smile on my face and the smell of trout on my hands. A good day.

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Humility is a good thing, sometimes the creek may knock you down a notch or two. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it’s good to reflect and perhaps learn something when the creek spanks your ass sending you home crying. It happens to the best of us (I hope?) and on the 28th it happened to me, didn’t touch a single fish. It’s not like I want to admit this to you or myself but I started the fly factory as a way to record the good, the bad and ugly of this journey through the creeks of Southeast Minnesota so it would be counter productive to leave a day like this off the books.

We arrived at the creek at ~10am with a decent air temp in the lower 20′s. We expected a bit of sunshine but found none, just gray skies with the occasional light snow creating the winter wonderland I’ve come to enjoy. I was expecting the higher air temp and overcast skies to keep the fish a bit more active and maybe less hesitant. I chose a spot with big rewards if you can fool the trout but thatsa big if. Slow moving, gin clear water withsprings all around keeping the water temp warm and the midge popping. The trout were out and active sipping midge pupa just under the surface. I would have just stuck on a #20 andtried drifting it with a really long fine leader but honestly I’ve tried this and I’m not their yet. When your fly line gently landing on the water sends them running it becomes counter productive.

I brought a friend with me who spin angles for trout in our area. We have a similar thought on the resource and we’d been discussing going out for a while. He tossed a smaller (roughly #8-10) Jig with an olive chenille body and marabou tail. I liked the simplicity and the subtleness of it right way. The next thing I noticed was the minimal impact it made entering the water despite the weight of the jig something I been thinking about ever since.

Cam was onto fish within the first fifteen minutes we were at the stream, he landed a good sized brown close to 13inches within sight of the vehicle. It’s good to see girthyfish getting enough calories to not only survive but thrive, I have a feeling it has something to do withthe number of springs feeding this system. I had rigged my rod with a Brown #8 SMB following the previous success I’ve had swinging this fly. I hooked into one sending my fly down into a cut bank but lost it trying to get the fish up a riffle.

We moved downstream and I kind of sat back enjoying the day. I had minimal cares and plenty of time with water infront of me so I kindof “ho-hummed” it as another friend of mine would say. Within thirty minutes of our arrival I began seeing the army crawl through the snow, I could spy trout sipping them from a distance in the slowest water.  We got to a spot I knew held gold bellied fish and larger ones at that. I was anxious and sent my streamer down through a riffle and into the run hoping that if I presented it this way I might pick off one hanging in the shallows who would be forced to make a quick decision, to strike or not to strike. Nothing struck and yet when I had progressed through the riffle I kept going sending a mile of line downstream smacking my fly into the slower water, this was maybe not the best plan. Likely I sent most of the fish running and almost certainly anything with any size went to hunker down.

We waited a bit and approached the situation from a different vantage point. Cam twitched his jig back to his feet and was getting strikes despite the slow clear water and the fact that I had approached the same spot moments before so poorly. He picked up a good sized brown a bit later and continued to landa second fish over 14inches out of the same spot that I couldn’t get anywhere with. Later after arriving home and thinking more about the progression of the day I’ve come to the conclusion one of two factors and maybe a combo of both allowed his jig to illicit strike after strike in the slow water while my #8 SMB did not. 1st, the minimal impact on the water has to have something to do with if not everything. I need to remember to lighten it up in the slower water, it’s in slow water I can let my fly sink. 2nd,  the lack of obtrusive flash. I am learning there is a time and place for flash and the slowest sections where your sight fishing your prey may not be the place and if the fish arn’t responding switch it up, try something else. I did not and continued to get nowhere.

We moved downstream and broke up for a bit, I spied a deep dark nasty looking hole, just thinking about it now I’ve created a puddle of drool on my keyboard. I sat there limited by nature, forced to try and feed my fly down and in making strike detection incredibly difficult if not impossible but there was no other approach, I would have had to wear waders and cross the stream to get any kind of drift on this hole. I rolled something big but lost it right away likely due to a late hookset. I look over my shoulder to see Cam getting ready to land a nice brookie. Sweet.

I’m still at zero and the day is almost over. Cam landed a few more, I moved downstream andmade a few more attempts but found nothing. For the life of me I can’t explain why I didn’t try nymphing. I should have. We began hiking upstream, I fished a few spots but found either no fish willing to strike my #8 SMB or when they did I was late on the hookset allowing the fish to toss my hook. I fished pretty steadily back to the car but still landed nothing despite hooking into a handful of browns. By this point I became desperate and put my flies in any spot I thought might hold trout even if it meant loosing my fly to any number of snags. I missed a few more then dropped my rig through a shallow riffle with a down and across swing hooked into a nice 14inch brown but lost it when it lept up the riffle. The day was over, I was out of water and my hands lacked the signature trout smell I’ve grown to love, bummer. After the drive home and bit of time to reflect I would have changed several things about how I approached the day, the water and the trout but learning these lessons and having them stick takes time.

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Video by Heath Sershen. Doofy Looking Subject, The Winona Fly Factory.

Coffee, drive, pee, drive, park, rig the rod and then pee again. On-stream arrival was ~11am maybe a bit earlier. The air temp was cold (~0degrees) but a minimal wind and the sun made all the difference. We parked upstream and hiked just over a mile downstream to begin the afternoon. The scene hiking downstream was gorgeous, the sun reflecting off everything covered in a light crystal coating. The warm stream mixing with the cold air saw steam rising from the water for a couple of hours into the early afternoon. We hiked past, over and around quite a few springs which helps make this a difficult place to fish. I can imagine how even under turbid conditions elsewhere this creek may remain clear or recover very quickly.  This also makes for very difficult presentations, especially when the trout are active and surfacing to midge as early as ~11:30am.

Just over a mile downstream we sat in the snow, warm. We watched the gin clear water for signs of life, we made it a point to avoid going near the creek unless necessary to preserve the fishing as we hiked back upstream. This meant hiking off the trail through the snow that only deer and other animals had traveled. With a few inches of fresh powder the trip downstream wore me out, sitting in the sun I watched my friend cast to the first spot we had planned to fish. We started with a variety of flies ranging from average Driftless sized nymphs (#14-18) to larger (#8) streamer patterns. I rigged my #8 Olive Sprinkle Me Baby and trailed it with a #16 Pink Hot Spot Scud.

The gin clear water and steep banks were making things difficult. Even the most delicate of presentations was sending shoals of trout scattering up and downstream, like watching a bomb go off overhead and everyone hits the decks. To counter this I took to casting further and to places that I could not see what was going on, my perhaps ignorant thought here is that if I can see the trout and they are scattering despite my best efforts, that if I can’t see them maybe they are less apt to run for the hills. With this thought I began swinging my streamer with a trailing scud rig through anything that looked fishy even if it was only 6inches deep. My first fish of the day came on the swing as I pulled my flies through a shallower riffle, it took the #16 Pink Hot Spot Scud. I remember thinking how the fish, despite it’s size, looked already very mature and that it would live to grow old. It already had the body and look of a big brown. I slipped it back into the riffle quickly.

Hiking further up stream I got over anxious and planted my rig in a nearby pine tree luckily I was able to retrieve it without having to tie anything new on. The next cast I let my flies sink a bit too much and snagged a small tree branch in the creek a foot down. I could see the branch wave in the water as I tried pulling my flies from it. No luck and with that the #8 Olive SMB that I have fished every outing this year became a stream sacrifice. Payment due if you want to play here. I’ll admit I sat there for a moment staring at that stick wondering if it would be there the next time I wore waders to this spot. If it is I will try to find my hook if not my fly.

So I re-rigged with the only pattern that had produced a fish so far, the #16 Pink Hot Spot Scud. I added a splitshot and an indicator then looked upstream to a long deeper (~4ft) run. Starting in the rear, fishing each side of the main seam and progressing forward I expected to get a few strikes at a minimum from this tasty looking piece of water but nothing. A few passes later and I had snagged my #16 PHS Scud and was forced to tie on more tippet and a different fly.

Looking upstream and noticing more rising coming from a long slow section of water. I thought about sticking on a #20 Midge pattern but opted for a #8 Brown SMB. I chose this pattern thinking to the scattering trout earlier, the slow moving water combined with the current conditions made me think that fishing a midge would be more effective if I could find a bit of broken faster water with rising fish. I did end up swapping out the #8 SMB for a #20 CDC Midge Pupa a bit upstream but again the only steady, consistent rising was coming from slower water and after a couple of casts most of the fish were spooked. I eventually got greedy attempting to put the #20 CDC Midge pupa about forty feet in front of me with a wild roll cast that was just a bit to far left resulting in another snag. The #8 Brown SMB was called back to action.

The day was wearing down and we had fished the majority of the downstream water we had hiked past. Approaching the put in we had little to show for the day except some excellent photos of this stream in the winter sun. It’s safe to say the clear stream and finicky trout were kicking our asses. I slowly walked and tossed my #8 Brown SMB across the stream to the far bank and stripped it back through everything be it 6inches or 6feet the only difference was how long I let it sink before retrieving it. A couple hundred yards from the car my line went tight. One flash and I called it immediately, a brookie. My largest brookie to date at ~14inches. This fish smacked my fly in a 6inch riffle.

Needless to say my day had been made by that one fish. I landed a few others earlier but nothing like this. Satisfied I could walk away from the water knowing I hadn’t let the creek get the best of me I moved upstream to maybe one last fishy looking run. A few deep dead drifted passes and nothing, one more and my line jumped close to a foot. This fish just nailed my fly so hard I don’t think I had to set the hook, it did it for me all on it’s own. Hot damn a 16+inch Brown, my largest winter trout to date.

So the exercise through the snow and forest was worth it although by this point in the day I was getting wore out, apparently snowshoeing can burn as much as 480 calories or more per hour. My hat had been snagged by close to twenty trees and I was covered in burdock. The wind was picking up as we entered a longer straight section far from the protection of the bluffs or trees. A bit further and we had gone as far as the winter regulations would allow and we were satisfied to head home. I pictured the white fins belonging to that bookie swimming away from me as we drove home, what an excellent fish. I love brookies.

Slide Show

It’s been way too long since I had myself a day with the cold water. Conditions: 55-60 Degree Air Temp, Overcast, WNW Wind at ~20mph after 8am. The S.E. MN region has had it’s share of rain this summer season this last week was no different. Three out of five days saw rain in the gauge. I had some concerns about finding clear water but my fears were eased at 6am when I stepped up to the bank at dawn. I could see the rainbows stacked thick just waiting for me. My goal for the day was a two part mission. One, nab a stash of stocker rainbows while the wind was low during the morning hours. Two, migrate to a much smaller system in search of the Heritage strain, our native brook trout and avoid the wind that would get brutal as the day wore on.

The semi-stained water I saw at 6am gave me confidence that my plan was going to make for an excellent day despite the early morning wind and thick clouds. I rigged a new fly I’ve been mulling over in my head for a while now that is essentially a short, fat mini leech. A downstream and across approach with a decent amount of weight to keep the fly a good 3-6inches under the surface produced fish after fish. Hard to argue with 13-14inch rainbows readily taking just about everything presented to them. I fished the new pattern until a series of rises forced me to swap to a Devestator with a #16 WD-40 trailer. A few minutes later and I was working a few more rainbows and a tiny brown to the net, all in all I would say I got close to 2 dozen to hand and another 2 dozen hooked in the two hours I spent here.

I pulled off the water and split for the next phase of the plan but found a road closed sign staring me in the face. A choice, abandon the rest of the plan and make a snap choice on a second option or drive the round about way and loose a good thirty to forty-five minutes to the road. I chose the road and MPR as a result of the wind and my goal of finding my way to brook trout. I drove until a series of events signaled the continuation of the day, turning down a gravel road, passing a steep grade road-sign and hitting the brakes on the truck. The untouched stream is my favorite, no paths and the only sign of humanity is the occasional piece of trash or debris from rain events. The rainbow stop off was good for moral but lacked many elements of the journey that I need. The hike, the woods, wilderness, wildlife, the unknown.

Water conditions here were good, clean and clear running in the low fifties for a temp. I continued with the new mini leech pattern but left off the split shot, casting to smaller shallower water with spookier fish. The second cast I realized that I had left backcast land with the rainbows and turned into roll cast country when I hit the gravel road. On a shorter ~7-8ft leader and fishing no indicator just watching the water I lost the first two fish I came across. I’m watching my fly line connection for a strike or any signal from the trout, a roll, flash, anything. The second fish I lost was maybe a 12-13inch brookie that got off shortly after I hooked it, no big deal. I stayed out of the wind and was very comfortable the rest of my time here. Checked the rocks, minimal mayfly activity but plenty of caddis with the occasional riffle beetle. I fished upstream a ways using a variety of flies. A #16 Pink Squirrel, #16 WD-40, #18 Orange Scud’s all took trout along with the new mini pattern that I fished most of the day with. I got my brookies and got to see a new stretch of Driftless water but due to my detour I had to access this water at a different point than I had originally wanted causing me to run out of water to fish a bit too early, go home? No, a pit stop to see if I could find a few larger browns was in order.

This spot provided deeper water that in the last month had seen a rain event clearing a wide channel through swatches of thick vegetation making the conditions perfect for streamer fishing. I’m learning more and more that choosing wisely to take advantage of the current conditions will make for a better day on the water. My approach here is a cast straight across or slightly upstream with a mend if nessecary to encourage my weighted flies to sink deep then as my line begins to curve and tighten with the current I either: watch for a strike and just tight line it until my line straightens out behind me or add a retrive after I have allowed the flies to sink. The excellent thing here is that I often get to watch a fish come darting out of the depths to nail my flies making for a good show and the best strike detection possible. I managed to land a few nicer browns with one topping 16+. Not a bad way to end a day on the water, good to be in this place again.

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