Arrival time ~9am. Airtemp in the upper 20′s. With frost on the ground Carl and I began the morning hike downstream passing up over two miles of creek. I didn’t bother to stop once to look, the goal was to get to the starting point, a remote area that requires a serious hike from either direction to get to. This translates to a place where few frequent, the trout haven’t been pressured and the area is left untouched (for the most part). Places like this, far from roads, houses, people…they are rare and should be treasured. As we hiked downstream avoiding the temptation to glance at the water we were to see as our day progressed, the morning sun came out taking with it the frost and my need for an overcoat. January and I’m hiking the creek in a fleece because my traditional winter gear is simply too much for the almost 30degree airtemp at ~9am.

Once downstream I gazed upon large water with darting shadows, the shadows of trout, white suckers and the rosey cheeked creek chub. Due to the large water and not having fished this creek before I opted to swing a streamer. I fish a streamer in situations like this if the trout respond, my third roll cast saw a smaller brown chase the streamer almost to my feet, a good sign that my SMB would take fish this day. A couple casts later I had the first brown of the day on the line only to have it shake my barbless hook at the last moment. Minutes into the day of fishing and I knew my choice of fly was going to pay off. I’m not suggesting that nymphs wouldn’t have worked but given the size of the creek and not knowing the depth or location of the trout fishing a streamer was going to be the best choice for me. Upstream a bit I spied from the bank a larger shadow, clear blue water with big cover boulders piqued my interest. I opted to sit on it a bit, adding a splitshot and working my roll cast out a good forty feet I let my fly dead drift until my line came to a halt. I missed one but with the next pass my line went taught, a bit of a run and a fat splash showed a nicer 18 and a half inch brown trout, a Dogger. What a way to start the morning, second trout to hand pushing 19inches.

After releasing the larger fish I sat on that spot for quite a while repeating the same process landing two more and missing more than that. The slow lethargic strike was difficult to detect but the fish were eating the streamer and so it continued to be my fly of choice. My fishing partner Carl fished upstream from me and was doing quite well with his streamer choice, we continued to work the creek up enjoying the beautiful conditions. Further upstream the wind began to pick up a bit but not enough to make me put my coat on, we sat and watched for any rising trout. A few scattered midge were spotted hovering over the creek but by 11am we’d only seen a couple trout surface. I kept the streamer on for the next hour, by 12pm we came upon a run/pool system showing regularly rising trout. We crept up low and sat in the brush watching the trout and the midge, we swapped our large streamers for longer leaders and #20 flies. The wind made things difficult, as did the clear low water but Carl’s approach resulted in a fooled brown. I tried for another further upstream but was unsuccessful, even an attempt with a #20 Miracle Nymph was fruitless. Although a handful of fish were rising regularly they were hesitant and I opted to move upstream and put my streamer back on.

The beautiful day was made as fish chased down my streamer, a handful more came to hand and many were missed. No ice in the guides and sun on my shoulders, I can’t stress enough how wonderful these places are and the excellent weather was the icing on the cake. The rest of the day was much the same, following the winding creek upstream we ended up where we started the morning, fished out by 3:30 or so I was content to call the day successful and every bit as satisfying as any other day in the peace of the Driftless Area. Good to take full advantage of good airtemps and low wind in January, it can’t last forever.

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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.

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I was fortunate enough to get in a couple hours with some friends of mine, Wendy B. and his two boys James and Danny. With the younger ones with us the expectations for the outing were fairly low, I just wanted to see James in action fishing his spinning rod with a twister tail jig. We got on stream and hiked a short distance to the first couple of easier opportunities for this guy to catch a trout. The recent rain which dumped over .7inches of rain in my gauge at home in less than two hours the day before had turned the creek to borderline mud. It was fishable but I had my doubts.

Once in position I watched as Wendy B. did a bit of minor instruction, pointing here or there to encourage good placement of the jig. Maybe instructing how deep to allow it to sink simple things without any hand over hand instruction. After several minutes with no luck James lost interest and moved away from the creek to a small pond looking for frogs/toads and snakes. Wendy just simply allowed him to work things at his pace. While I’m observing all this go down I’ve got my line rigged with a two fly nymph rig consisting of a # 12 Free-Range Scud and a #16 Pink Patrick all the while Danny is perched on my shoulders and I’m roll casting my flies through a run. I got a handful of strikes right away but couldn’t seem to make any of them stick. I moved upstream to look back and see James with his rod again, fishing a hole with his dad just downstream fishing a run. I smiled at this scene and took a couple pictures. Someday, maybe James will love these pictures.

Ho-humming along taking a few swings here and there I had switched to a #8 Olive SMB and picked up a smaller 12inch brown. James was fishing downstream from me when my line went tight after a good cast was put next to a larger boulder. A dogger was on the line, in my excitement I managed to call everyone around Wendy B. and the boys watched as I moved the brown to the bank. This was a beautiful fish and the boys were digging it. I took a shot of James with the fish right away and then asked Danny if he wanted to help me release the fish in a riffle just upstream. I enjoyed seeing the boys look at the larger fish maybe more than actually catching it. Danny and I released the brown for an adventure some other day and with that we moved upstream to wind out the afternoon. I hung around with the boys looking for toads while Wendy B. took a crack at a couple good looking runs. While away from the creek we spotted a cow that had a horrible limp, back right hoof could barley hold the weight as it limped along. I stopped what I was doing and took pictures of the animal then promptly parted ways with my friends to see if I could find the landowner. I knocked on his door and looked around but no answer, I would later find out after calling the landowner that the cow had a bad case of foot rot and that had he not caught it in time to give it anti-biotics it may have ended up being put down. He didn’t know about the situation and was very grateful that someone was looking out for the cattle. Shortly after getting back on the creek we decided it was time to take off. One dogger and a saved cow hanging out with two of the coolest kids, a very good day.

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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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Stopped just for twenty or so minutes to fish a spot I’ve spied a George hanging out in. George is code for freakin’ big brown trout, the kind that break tippet and leave you speechless standing on the bank holding a limp line. The first cast hooked this guy. I enjoyed the smaller fight he put up then promptly sent him swimming so I could concentrate on finding my larger target. I knew the section I’d seen him at last time but saw no signs until a forty foot cast put my fly just upstream of a tree covering a portion of the creek. I let it sink to get under the branches then began stripping my fly back out when I saw the shape, big, dark and moving fast. He didn’t strike and instead gave me just enough to keep me coming back, the big ones tend to either hit it or quit it. I tossed my fly for another couple minutes hoping he would change his mind but no luck. Next time…

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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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Just another day around here. Woke early to take advantage of a couple hours before work. I see little reason to waste the day sleeping when there are trout to be had. This is the “busy” time of the year for me and as such I stow my gear in the car, it goes everywhere with me, you never know when an hour will appear and with trout this close I’d kick myself if I left my rod at home.

Onstream earlier at ~8am. I took my time due to the brisk air-temp that was making me wonder why I fish mornings and not more evenings. The usual mug of black stuff in tow and a #8 Olive SMB rigged roadside. Yawning I spied the creek from a ways out and became concerned. I knew the area got a bit of rain but this creek was looking much better just a day ago. I had chosen this stretch of this creek and my thought was to fish or go home. I fished. Second cast after a short upstream hike made the morning. Heavy, heavy stain on the creek, borderline mud and my streamer has a nice 14inch fish pulling it towards a tree branch that I can just barely make out through the turbid water. Good thing I got into fish early or I might have hiked out right there thinking nothing was going to see my fly. Next bend and another Brown came out, fishing the shallower edges rather than the deep pools payed off with the heavy stain. I tried fishing some of the usual deep spots but the stain was too great and I think most just couldn’t make it out unless I literally stuck it right in their mouths. Quite a few nipping trout, just tugging the tail of my streamer rather than committing to the ride. I almost got frustrated on a corner pool that I must have had ten fish do this exact thing but I was enjoying the cool air and hot coffee with plenty of creek still in front of me.

Upstream a bit and I had taken a couple more in the 10-13inch range. I figured out why the creek was stained as I turned around a bend. The herd, cattle. Fishing pastures can have its downsides, you might get a nicer backcast but you’ve got to deal with the bovine element. Cattle…better than corn I guess. The air temp rose quickly and it dawned on me why I fish mornings, sweating your ass off is no fun. I typically stay out of the creek if I can avoid it even in the warmer weather. Trout feel, see and hear us coming a mile away before getting into the creek. I fished upstream until I ran out of morning to enjoy and headed to work. Fishing before work, satisfying.

Day off. Chose to fish the am hours, lower air temps with a trade for lower winds. It seems typical as of late that when the opportunity to fish arises the weather turns sour. If you don’t go you won’t know. I’ve been eyeballing some new water for a while now, I hit it the day before and landed a beauty. I figured with dry flies likely out of the picture due to low airtemps I’d go searching deep dark ugly spots for anything that would take a fly. I was onstream at ~8:30am with an airtemp approaching 40°F. With a bit of stain from the night before the creek was looking good. Just a bit of stain would allow me to get in a bit closer, something I’ve come to take advantage of. I pulled three flies from my box and stuck them in my chest pack, all #6 SMB’s the Black, Brown and Olive, the deadly trio. One decent sized split shot and I was swinging at every nasty looking snaggy spot I could effectively cast to, passed up quite a bit of water but when I knew I could land the cast I put my flies in the creek.

In the past I’ve passed opportunities like this over. Larger, faster, deeper water. Searching water. I passed on it in the past because a guy can spend all day searching for fish and get nowhere fast. With that said it there are ways to fish these types of spots that can make it more productive. 1st, lose your fear of loosing your flies. No guts…NO GLORY. Don’t be stupid and loose fifty flies but if you haven’t hit bottom or gotten snagged then your missing opportunities. Concentrate on getting your flies down, deep. This means mending, fishing upstream and adding more weight, again if your not setting the hook on a rock or debris every so often your probably missing the larger fish hanging out. 2nd. Try, try, and try again, then move on. You can waste a day dead drifting a fat streamer through deep ass pools, it’s good to try and as long as your confident that your fly is getting down you can be alright walking away from the darkness of that 8ft deep plunge pool.  I’m still learning but today proved that I’m getting the hang of it, lost one fly and landed a handful of freaking nice fish.

Back to the morning, landed the first 13in brown and moved on. Took my time as I was in no hurry and enjoyed my coffee staring down at snaggy water, deciphering it, watching the currents. You can use the stream to your advantage by sinking your flies in a spot where the current naturally kicks them down to the bottom, the trick is recognizing those spots and sinking the cast, like the swish from a basketball. Nothing but net. Speaking of nets, I know they are a pain and I’ve been known to leave mine at home but if your fishing a #6 anything and not carrying a net your doing yourself and the trout a dis-service. Along with the net downsize that tippet. 3x is what I fish when chucking streamers as of late and damn am I glad I do, these two things can get big fish in and fast allowing you to release them quickly. Point in case, snaggy water with undercuts, tree limbs and fat fish. I sent my SMB through a handful of times with no results. I kept at it, I hadn’t gotten snagged on the bottom. A moment later my light went taught. When bigger fish hit and run for cover you’d better be prepared to lay into them, bend your rod and hang on. Both of the nicer fish from today took the #6 Brown SMB and immediately dove for cover under flood debris, great habitat and a great way to lose a fish. Make a choice, lay into that fish, turn it’s head and get it to the net or give it enough slack to hang you. I learned that today, never have I had to put so much force into my rod to keep a fish from wrapping itself around debris.

Both the nicer fish came from water that was about 4ft deep with debris or a cut bank for cover. After landing the female brown my heart was pounding and I was smiling as I was sinking a foot deep in muck. I had to jump in to make sure she didn’t get to the downed trees. Less than an hour into my morning and I had what I came for, adrenaline. I sat on the bank and drank coffee for a few minutes before pressing on, now the day could be spent leisurely tossing flies confident that the big fish of the day had shown it’s face. 

I pulled a 14inch brown with some excellent spotting from a deep 4ft run and thinking there may be a second fish to be had I tried one more time. As I was lifting my rod during the the tail out, a flash and splash. Something big smashed my fly less than an inch from the surface and I nearly fell on my ass, no joke. This fish and I danced for a couple heart pumping minutes, he dove for a tree branch and I moved to pull his head as hard as I could. Remember the net, this fish would not have given up its portrait without it. Less than twenty minutes apart and I landed back to back nice sized browns. I spent the rest of the day doing much the same, deep drifting my SMB. I landed a handful more with nothing less than 13inches, in this kind of water they are fewer but they are bigger. I took off at 12pm, right as the wind picked up and the rain started falling. If you don’t go, you won’t know. Glad I went out today.

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