
The next day was a complete 180 from the day prior. The wind shifted direction, picked up in gusts, and brought clouds and rain with it. As we scouted the flats, we could not find a single fish where we had found hundreds the day before. We regrouped and headed back to the hotel where the mouth of the Boardman entered the lake. I rigged up a new pattern I whipped up the night before, the Mustache Ride, and proceed to swing my flies along the bottom at the mouth of the river. I was surprised as I managed to dredge up a few smallies off the bottom in relative short order. Now, I was in my element. Matt and I hooked up several decent smallmouth, a white sucker, and one corpulent lake run brown who looked like it was about to pop. The day was salvaged.



Some new blood arrived and joined up with us in Traverse City; Caleb Reinhold and Bill Konway were joining us on Beaver Island. We grabbed dinner and headed to an Irish pub for some local flavor. Third Coast was responsible for the entertainment that evening, half price stouts courtesy of "Guy's Night" (I didn't know there was such a thing), foosball, and a late night run to the border, involving more burritos than you could load a ferry with. Good times...


Coming up next: getting to Beaver Island.
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