Notes:

• Source water temp: 48 Degrees
• Only specific rocks contained large numbers of snails.
• Sow Bugs, Snails, and Cased Caddis were the macro’s of quantity.
• Easily the largest cave emitting source of coldwater I’ve seen to date.
• Brown trout present in large numbers.
• Awe struck imagining how old this formation is.
• Seeing this surely trumped catching trout.
• We live in a sacred area, never forget that.

Standing at the foot of a bluff, watching thousands of gallons of cold, clean, 100% pure trout water pour from a twenty foot wide pool emanating from a hole in rock wall to travel past my feet downstream. We were in another world, another time. It’s one thing to fish, to have trout streams and to see random springs that help feed oxygenated cold groundwater to a system, it is another thing to hike to the source, to stand there imagining who else has stood looking skyward. I imagine this may have been someone’s home long ago, ideal hunting grounds, natural shelter and a limitless supply of clean water. Making the primal part of me want to cut ties, throw my iPhone against the rock wall and never leave. Thousands of years have passed and this is the same, still pure, still feeding a creek and the trout who reside here. This feeling is why we need to protect our resource. Cold, clean water does not just pour from the ground everywhere, thank you Karst.

Slide Show

Fished another Sunday in Iowa, since Liz and I ended up purchasing a year license it only made sense we would use them as much as possible while the weather holds out. Arrival time: ~12:15pm, Departure Time: ~5:30pm. Airtemp was in the low fifties, the wind was calmer out of the WSW at ~10mph. The creek was a bit off on arrival but clean enough for me to spot trout hanging on redds. Trout were sipping something small on arrival, likely midge but with the recent Baetis seen Liz opted for a #18 BWO, second cast in and she was making it look easy. We hung around attempting to take a couple more on a dry fly before moving upstream but nothing was having the larger flies. I switched flies up a couple times, took a couple small Browns on a #18 Bead Head Baetis nymph I tied up for situations like this. The creek, full of weeds, full of spooky trout who bolt for cover when they see a larger or heavier nymph hit the surface are sometimes best presented something very small despite the difficulty detecting a strike. I lost three or four easily to late hooksets. I also fished the “safety” of the #16 Pink Squirrel for a while and took a handful of fish ranging from 10-13inches. Something about the fact that the trout just can’t help but hit that thing makes me want to fish it less, like it’s laced with some kind of trout chum they can smell from a mile away.

Upstream scoping the riffles I watched one trout rise, then another and another. Shortly after a #18 BWO flew past, I dropped the nymph instantly and swapped to the #18 BWO pattern again. I watched the riffle for another ten minutes, four different trout in four locations rose but they didn’t lite up the way I was hoping they would. There would be no major BWO hatch for us. Thinking I could pull a couple out I made close to two dozen casts with only one botched hookset on a 6inch Brown to show for it. We moved upstream and I looked at my flies and put on one of a couple dozen newly tied #8 Sprinkle Me Baby’s. Something about fishing this fly, I have so much confidence in it and my ability to fish it well that it just made sense. Trust Your Gut.

Working the later portion of the afternoon I was roll casting to deeper faster water, swapping a split shot for none and back again, working the weed lines and the dark spaces between them, the BNT were coming to hand quickly. I managed over a dozen in the first hour with a few misses between. They smack this fly so damn fast sometimes it’s hard to set the hook and make it stick. We got upstream to find a couple nasty deep looking pools, faster current feeding the far side. My gut… my gut was telling me to hit each with a down and across approach letting my fly sink then rise at a steady rate as the line tightened up. The second pool gave up the reason why I trust my gut, a nice 18inch Brown. He hit deep and I didn’t know what I was in for until he gave me a big flying leap from below, this was the Iowa Brown I’d been looking for these last few trips.

Upstream all of a hundred yards and I see one of the biggest, gnarliest beaver dam’s I’ve come across in my Driftless career. Standing close to five feet tall just pouring trout water from a weak portion in the center. We hiked upstream and spied dark deep trout water but few fish. I was concerned that their might not be much around but if there was something it might make the last fish look puny. I dropped a couple bombs in the creek but saw nary a flash, my gut was telling me to move on. A guy can spend all day casting into the darkness and get nowhere, I’m guilty of it from time to time but the day was growing short and with it the light so we moved on. Out of the beaver dam and into one of the sexiest pieces of trout water I’ve seen in Iowa. I was concerned that after the beaver dam it would be kaput, pitiful creek, I was dead wrong. I tossed a fly down under a boulder offering some excellent habitat for any trout and landed two smaller browns that proved there were fish above the beaver dam. This was motivation to keep going, Liz was doing her own thing, figuring her cast out and working a streamer, I was content to dissect the creek for the spots I knew would hold fish.

I got to a riffle with a bunch of overhanging branches, took one look and knew there had to be something tasty laying in wait. The first cast was too far up the riffle and got stuck on a rock, my fly came back covered in creek sludge. After a quick clean up I made a second attempt and planted my fly on the smallest of the overhanging branches, the sun was going down and I didn’t see it until it was too late. Something was on my side, my SMB popped off the branch instantly. My gut said one more… it was right again. By now I’m thinking, damn I should be telling Liz where to put her fly but I didn’t want to stand over her shoulder being overbearing. I landed the brown and sent him back to the creek with just enough daylight to work upstream another couple hundred feet. The sun was gone, the sky was lighting up with pink and orange colors. I saw one last spot that just screamed for a fly, first cast and a fat, I mean gutty fat holdover Rainbow came out. The picture doesn’t do the gut justice but damn I was taken back a bit. By this point the ground was looking black, I left the headlamp somewhere not in my gear and we were forced to hike over a mile back as the very last of the light left us.

Additional Notes:

• Watched a Bald Eagle fly overhead at less than a hundred yards.
• Observed a noticeable change in the creek vegetation above and below the beaver dam.
• Spent fifteen minutes chasing down an evening Caddisfly.
• Watched over a dozen deer silouetted by the sky chase through a herd of cattle down a bluff side.

Slide Show

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.

Slide Show

The 2nd day of the weekend adventure saw me shivering as I rolled out of the tent, the night before as we pulled off the creek due to thunder and lightening we got a decent dousing. After a cold evening that shower coated everything in a thick layer of frost. I prepped the fire and got things going, a choice was made to pack up camp quickly and head out. We chose to hit the same creek as the day before, with Liz knowing the water a bit better the chance of her doing as well if not better than the day before was good. After a brief stop to get a cup of much needed coffee we were pulling up to an Iowa creek void of any other vehicles, good choice to go on a weekday.

10am creekside and the airtemp was cool in the low 40′s. Layers of clothing were applied, the wind was not going to help us again but Liz was able to handle it the day before so I had no fears that it was going to hamper anything. She rigged her rod with the same #14 Pink Patrick as the day before and we hiked to the first spot for the day, our goal was to leisurely fish the rest of the creek that we hadn’t seen the day prior. I sat back and enjoyed my black coffee hunkered down low to keep out of the wind, I watched as my girl took aim at a slow section of water that had given up a handful of nicer sized rainbows the day prior. It wasn’t long before I was up off my ass taking photos, I let her do the landing and releasing as I won’t always be right by her side to do so. She worked that first spot over well and landed a half dozen or so rainbows before we moved upstream. By noon the sun was warming things up, I spotted a handful of rises upstream as we hung on another stretch that Liz was nymphing. It wasn’t long before I watched a BWO float past.

Thinking to the day before and Carl’s dry fly prowess I snuck away upstream after I spied the first handful of rises coming from a very long slow moving stretch of gin clear creek. I rigged my rod with a #18 Parachute BWO and tried to land my fly without sending the trout scattering. There is something so satisfying about taking a tiny trout under difficult conditions, being able to see that trout scoot over and nail your fly from thirty feet out is that much better. Shortly after I noticed Liz was behind me watching my approach and cast, she was studying. The first fish was a well earned brown, the two that followed were eager rainbows. I moved upstream and talked Liz through my approach, what I was thinking and what my goals were. Upstream a bit further and I was into my kind of challenge, a lone rising trout in a very difficult position, this was going to require some luck. Under a small rock outcropping was a lone rainbow rising every so often, I had to get my fly to land in just the right spot to allow for a drift under the rock outcropping without catching my fly on any one of the snaggs hanging from the rest of the rocks around. Liz and I waited and watched. A couple attempts and I got the perfect drift on the location which resulted in a splashy rise from a smaller rainbow, right under the rock outcropping. This was the day maker for me, the holy grail of fly fishing, the pick your fish.

With my day fully made I turned my attention back to Liz who was watching this show go down and getting eager to maybe toss a dry fly of her own. We tried the #18 BWO for a bit but it was soon apparent that she needed something a bit larger to start with, I had her stick on a #10 Stimulator and let loose on a run that was bringing trout to rise. Fifteen minutes later and she hadn’t landed a fish, hadn’t gotten a single strike but her backcast was getting better. She knew she had blown any chance at those fish and yet we sat there practicing that cast for another fifteen minutes. The smile on my face probably looked stupid but sitting in the sun watching her slap the creek with her line then slowly figuring it out couldn’t have been better. Truth be told I saw one trout rise in a rough spot and I asked if she wanted to try for it instead she handed me her rod. Second drift and I watched that rainbow turn downstream, chase after that Stimulator and nail it. The sun was glorious and the morning layers were shed during the afternoon hours making for a very enjoyable day on the water. We fished for another hour or so but wanted time at home before dark so we called it around 3:30pm and hit the road.  Can’t stress how fortunate I am, the pictures illustrate that well enough.

Slide Show

After the 1st 24hrs of the two day adventure it was clear… my gal can fish. If she keeps it up… we’ll I don’t even want to get into the thought that she’ll be out-fishing me soon. Plans were loosely laid out towards the end of the week, we both took Monday off and planned to get a few things done around the house before hitting the road for Iowa. We convinced Liz’s brother to watch our dogs, gear was packed and maps were looked over then looked over again. We drove around until a spot to camp was found, this ate up a bit more time than I would have liked but ultimately things worked out in our favor, got a spot less than twenty feet from a top notch Iowa stream all to ourselves. We quickly set up camp, prepared the fire pit for later that evening then split for trout water.

Earlier in the week Liz and I made a trip to the Driftless Angler, we had arranged a time with Mat to get into the shop for some much needed gear. Liz needed the basics, rod/reel/line and a pair of waders/boots. Mat had exactly what we needed and set us up in fine style. Liz tried out an 8’0″ Echo 4wt and we paired it with a Lamson Konic reel lined with some secret super line that I’ll get to another day. Mat also happened to have a pair of women’s chestwaders in the right size (finding the right size for Liz can be difficult). Boots worked and with that we had what the weekend demanded. Thanks to Mat for accommodating us, if you need Driftless gear…get a hold of Mat and goto the Driftless Angler.

So, the fire was prepped, tent pitched, and a cold beer was about to be history when we geared up for an evening on the creek. We had roughly an hour and a half of daylight, I hiked us to a spot I know of and rigged Liz’s rod with a #14 Pink Patrick with a single splitshot and an indicator. We only had a couple hours before the sun set, I watched Liz roll cast to trout holding in a deep hole. These fish are pressured, they have seen anglers before and they know what a fly is. After about an hour of roll casting, mending and watching the drift Liz had missed two solid strikes, line management (lack there of) will burn the learning angler many times. We hung out casting to trout until it got so dark we couldn’t see the indicator anymore. We hiked back to the campsite, lit the fire up and cooked a quick dinner. An hour or so later Carl showed up wanting to hike through the woods to try a bit of night mousing. We hiked over two miles downstream and fished back up, a couple hours of fishing and we had nothing to show for it. Liz was a good sport and hung out with Carl and I while we got a couple strikes but never did end up landing a trout. Mousing has been spotty since fall has set in, I’m curious if it is a product of the change in season or the water we are fishing, something is not the same as it was a month ago.

Back at camp we finished the night with a good beer and a big fire. The next morning we shook off the frost and crawled out of the tent to find a beautiful blue sky with a bright sun staring back at us. The plan for the day, take off, search a new creek and maybe meet up with Sershen. Once cellphone reception was restored (I turned the phone on for the briefest of moments) we set a time/place to meet up with one of my friends, Carl who just couldn’t leave good fishing and who slept in the car came along for the search. The four of us met on a new creek, we picked a direction and split up. Liz and I moved upstream from our initial location and worked on roll casting a single nymph rig with an indicator. After working on her mending a bit more she was getting strikes regularly, it took a bit but she landed her first trout of the weekend shortly after our arrival. A puny rainbow with a tail deformity spared the fish a serious photo and instead we went right back to casting.

Liz continued to fish a #14 Pink Patrick while I tied on a slightly larger #12 Black Hairball and moved upstream from her, not too far as I was her source of tippet, nippers and other important supplies but enough that my presence wasn’t going to get in her way. The look of determination was plastered all over this girls face and I didn’t want to sound like a nagging fool so I tried to give her some space throughout the afternoon. She stuck at that first spot for quite a while before wanting to move on, maybe longer than I would have but I was enjoying seeing her take part in something I love.

We moved upstream to find cattle muddying the creek but that didn’t seem to bother the trout any. Liz continued roll casting her rig and continued to haul in trout. A couple hours after our arrival and I was fishing upstream on my own and every so often I would see her set a hook, watch the rod bend hard and land trout after trout. We sat in the sun for a while and enjoyed the beautiful weather, the wind which greeted us on arrival remained through the day but didn’t hamper progress much until near the end of the day. After several hours being separated from the rest in our group we hiked back downstream until we came across our friends. Sershen took off in search of other water while Carl, Liz and I continued back upstream to fish out the rest of the daylight. Liz was picking spots, making casts and landing fish. Carl fished a tiny dryfly for the majority of the day and continued through the evening while I tossed a Hairball landing a trout here and there. I fished some but I spent alot of my day content enjoying the creek and watching my girl get into browns and rainbows.

Again, this girl can fish. The sun came and went with the clouds, it would make random appearances throughout the afternoon before eventually hiding behind a wall of thunderheads that would later signal the end of the day. A couple light rain showers were enjoyed before the thunder came and with it the strong lighenting that forced us to put our rods down, pack our gear and head for camp. Day 1 was a good day, all goals were accomplished with style and more importantly Liz wanted more…

Note: Brown and Brook trout are spawning on the creeks in the Driftless Area. I was very careful to take steps to avoid all potential redds and to point out those I was sure held trout eggs. Liz and I crossed the creek only when we needed to and we crossed in deeper muddier spots avoiding riffles when possible. We never cast to any spawning trout and we try to make our impact on the fish during this time of the year as minimal as possible.

Slide Show

It should be noted for all that I am truly a lucky bastard, you see Liz and I met up with Carl and his girl recently, from what I can remember it was a blast and went something like this. Note: Lack of sleep may significantly change how you remember a series of events. The gist of what happened goes as follows… After a beer at 10pm some discussion about how awesome fishing for trout begins, at 11pm it was decided that Iowa was only an hour away would put up fish, the weather was good and I happen to travel with my gear. The four of us, on a whim split for Iowa just after 11pm. We get to the discussed location, quickly build a fire and pitch tents. With the rods readied and girls in tow we split down a path guided by the light of an almost full moon. We hiked through the night fishing each spot that met the criteria for a mousing opportunity, it was so bright it mid-as well been noon. The girls who followed were ferried across riffles, one stayed dry, one got a bit wet. They kept each other company whilst Carl and I approached the darker spots looking for water that was void of a reflection. For their parts they should be commended, who ever heard of such a thing, hiking through the woods in the middle of a beautiful October night following fools with mice patterns. One of these nights I’m going to get a picture of Liz and a fat fish with a hunk of fur hanging from it’s jaw.

By three AM the moon had bested us, we had yet to land a trout, some were heard but the entire valley seemed calmed by the presence of the moonlight, basically it was a bust. Paying attention to the moon cycles and valley walls will be important next season. We hiked the girls back to camp and re-built the fire then decided to head out again to see if the lower angle of the moon would create a couple black spots for us to cast at. At ~4am I hooked and landed the only trout seen that evening. At roughly 13inches it was a stocky guy who put up a good fight, he was released and we hiked back to camp to sleep for a few hours.

From 6-10am we slept. With the sunlight came the sounds of hunters shooting their guns, we woke and prepared a makeshift breakfast, at this point anything to get a couple calories down would have done the trick. We left camp for the road and stopped at the first spot we saw, a long slow stretch perfect for mousing was staring us in the face and we totally missed it. Something for next time…. with that said we had water in front of us and rather than drive to find something else it was decided that this would suffice for a beautiful afternoon of trout fishing in the driftless area. The creek was gin clear and low by close to a foot, combined with thick instream vegetation it was going to be a challenge.

Carl opted for a #18 Dry fly not sure exactly what he was casting but he made it look easy, effortlessly casting a good forty feet into the wind. I tried a #16 Free Range Soft Hackle but ended up settling on a #16 Pink Lab, the last one in my box. It came from a good friend and now I’ll have to pester him for some of his dog’s fur. I spent the next couple hours working up a low crystal section of water picking off a couple fish here and there. The #16 Pink Lab was crushed the second it hit the water resulting in a handful of lost fish due to poor line management, something to continue working on. I moved a fish pushing 17inches but as it followed the fly downstream it spotted me standing wide eyed, probably gawking and decided the sight of this fool was enough to turn tail for better sights, bested by my best friend and greatest adversary, the trout. 

Carl lagged behind working his dry fly while I put down a bunch of fish and continued upstream, I was anxious, felt like moving and decided I should see as much of this new Iowa water as possible before the trip home had to be made. Definitely saw a hole with a 20incher in it, maybe more, good to take note of such sights. The entire time Carl and I were fishing the ladies were wandering the area enjoying the beautiful weather, when October gives you near 80 degree air temps you take advantage of it. Truth be told I saw some sun bathing going on at one point and I know for a fact that someone got sunburned. Good to have the girl along on these trips, keeps us together and her finding more interest in what I love. Soon, very soon, change is coming on that front. I concluded my portion of the afternoon by poorly casting to some big shadows in a shallow creek, I herded those trout upstream so fast it was almost humorous. Sometime I just stink and don’t take the time to approach the fish with the caution needed to move one, hook one, land one. Fishing in those kind of conditions can be taxing. Next time… work on the dries, work on the wet flies more… Thanks to my new friends for a good and crazy trip to Iowa, to be done again.

Slide Show

The plan was hatched with little time to spare. The night before digging my gear from it’s hidden resting place, packing fly boxes, tying the last minute necessities and printing my stamp and license at home, sometimes you have to love the internet. We left with a few crappy maps (way to go Heath) to find trout in the state of Iowa, the place you go when your a Minnesotan in the off season if you want to scratch that itch that’s been nagging at you for seventeen days but who’s counting? We stopped off in La Crosse, Wisconsin to grab some winter gear that will be put to the test in the coming months (more on that later). After the stop we hit the road to ride the Mississippi down to our target. Read the rest of this entry »