hiver

I walked on water.


Okay, so maybe I had a little help. The majority of the small and medium sized lakes in the region locked up with ice over the past week. Blanketed with recent snowfall, the frost line is as deep as six inches in some areas already. Coupled with low river flows, I can pretty much count the season as over. Even as a die hard angler, I am not reluctant to call it over, as fish were few and far between in early September, seeking the refuge of deeper water. Any efforts at this time spent searching for fish worthy of a drift seem futile, and more like a fool's quest.

Seems only reasonable that my days now be spent behind the vise, on icy treks across frozen lakes in search of fish through a freshly augered hole, celebrating the ups and downs of college hockey, traversing billowy drifts of fresh powder underneath my snowmobile, and warm comfortable evenings at home with the family, waiting, waiting, waiting, for that first sign of spring when I can once again drift a nymph.

Bonsoir.

Sprung

Spring is running well ahead of schedule here in the Great White North, with the second earliest ice out on Big Detroit Lake, just barely missing the earliest ice out ever recorder in 1910 by one day. For a little perspective, the average ice out date for Big Detroit Lakes is April 19. To say that spring came a little early this year is an understatement.



The arrival of warm temps and early ice out threw a little curve in my game. The key to spring fishing is water temperature, though the photo period does play a role in fish activity and spawning. Water temps have of coursed risen earlier than the normal and so begins the chase of running fish. A few early scouting runs didn't produce any results, though I was only off by a couple of days. Diligence this time of year pays off as a single day can bring in hordes of fish staging for the spawn. As is the case around here, seasonal stream closures in a few areas that are designed to protect vulnerable spawning game fish throw a wrench in my fishing hot spots, as these spots are sanctuaries for many sucker species in addition to northern pike and walleye. That's where being adept at using a Delorme Atlas & Gazetteer, Google maps and aerial photos can make the difference between being on fish and being shut out.



My timing was perfect; schools of suckers and no crowds. The advantage to being on the ball when scouting is beating the crowds to the punch. By the time the local brigade arrives, I've already had my fun playing out these staging suckers. The bonus of these stream closures is that since the suckers spawn after the walleyes, the closed areas provide a haven for these spawning suckers until the fishing opener arrives. A little relief from the spear chuckers and bowfishing crowd never hurt anything.


Trying not to foul hook a sucker when they are stacked up like cordwood can be a challenge. Every once in a while, even while I'm trying to be careful, you hook up with a trash fish... the bottom-feeding walleye.

the buff

Shadow dancers of the prairies, you intrigue me. You captivate me. You move me.




I'll be back for more.

Old Man Jack

Some gold old fashioned winter embellishment, courtesy of Jack Frost.

Sunset

I think it's finally time to hang up the long rods for the season, get out the shorties, and fire up the ice auger. Winter's arrival has the lakes pinging from the formation of new ice, sounds reminiscent of the Hunt For Red October. Fishing villages are starting to sprout up as each ice house fights to get set up on their honey hole. It's about that time to hit the ice and do a little harvesting.


While the 2011 fly fishing season included some memorable moments and fantastic adventures, most notably my excursion to Beaver Island, it was also matched with much regret. This past season has probably marked my fewest number of days on the water, which is not something that I am proud to report. High flows early on in the season, as well as domestic issues, kept me off the river for much of the year. While I will never be one to shirk my responsibilities as parent and denigrate the role, my priorities have recognizably focused on duties and activities other than fishing. I am hoping for resolve over the winter, in hopes that the situation will improve. I will will also make a better effort to get my kids involved in fly fishing this next year. At ages 3 and 7, hopefully, under my guidance and with a little help from dad, my kids will be able to land their first fish on a fly next season. In addition, they might be lacking the dexterity and maturity to master the skills needed behind the vise, but I will also strive to expose my kids more to the world of fly tying this winter, in efforts that they begin to embrace fly fishing culture. I've already got two great little helpers who are more than enthusiastic about fish and dad's interest in fly fishing. It's been long overdue to have them take the next step forward.

The sun sets on yet another season. I can't wait to get my boots wet in 2012.

Soft Hackle Heaven

Whether you call it a partridge, thunderbird, thunder chicken, or a ruffed grouse, Bonasa umbellus is among the tastiest of all upland birds and game. It is also prized for its hackle in my fly tying stash. Fortunately, living in Minnesota provides me with the nation's premier grouse habitat and population, with over half a million birds harvested annually, making it Minnesota's top game bird. Life is good in the Great White North.


The rump feathers, while used to determine the sex of a ruffed grouse, are also a vital component of the venerable Carp Crack pattern. The ruff feathers, located on the sides of the necks of both genders, are used to form the collar on the Mustache Ride and Landing Strip patterns, as they are long and wispy, providing lots of movement in the water. They are the ultimate soft hackle for those larger streamer fly patterns.



Regardless of how you obtain a ruffed grouse skin, whether it be a a retail acquisition, roadkill salvage, harvested bird, or a donation from a fellow hunter, consider yourself blessed. The ruffed grouse is the pinnacle prize of keen fly tyers.

Fall Scenes

The fall colors are past peak now as the gusty gales of fall are blowing the leaves from the canopy onto the forest floor. The winds of change are here and with it the carping season will soon be drawn to a close. They'll likely be a few more opportunities yet this fall for other roughfish. But until next spring, it will just be denial until I can hold the shimmering golden scales of a cyprinid in my hands again.



So long.

Summer Fields

It's late summer and things are beginning to wind down. The arrival of monarchs on their annual migration to Mexico and points south, blooming wildflowers, low temperatures hinting at dipping into the forties, and the rogue tree or two teasing with hints of gold and crimson on their periphery all mark the inevitable change in season. This is also the beginning of prime time for collecting tallgrass prairie and wildflower seeds. Yes, summer is near over and fall is almost here. Finally. Fall brings many of my fondest memories in the Great White North, often culminating with the first frost of the season. Water temperatures and fall turnover often result in some tremendous fishing. Some of my most memorable fish have come in late fall. In addition, flushing grouse from aspen groves, apple picking and hay rides with the family, and the explosion of pheasants from the remaining crop residue from the fall harvest are all some of my favorite pastimes, not to mention good eats. There's nothing like the smell of roast pheasant, apple pie, smoked duck, wild rice, or the flavors of fresh bratwurst and sauerkraut emanating from the kitchen. Sending the kids off to school in the little yellow bus is just a few days away, which begs the question, has anyone every come up with a monarch butterfly fly pattern? I bet the bass would hit that! And then my next question, how much vacation leave do I have saved up?

Voodoo Chilly

Ice fog, "vapor snow", and truck doors that won't shut. The culprit?


I didn't even think it was that cold out. Something must be wrong.

Horndog

The Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus. Taking a respite from the snow from atop a high perch in my backyard.

The Other Whitefish

Nothing like a little roughfish action through the ice. Cisco, tullibee, lake herring, chub, northern cisco, whatever you call it in your region, Coregonus artedi are freaking tasty, especially when smoked.

walter on ice

A classic prairie winter day out on the ice: whiteout.


Fitting that it's the Winter Solstice and I'm putting up a post on ice fishing the frozen white north. When in Rome... After several nights of wrenching and speaking my finest German, I finally got the snowmobile repaired. A fishing venture out last winter in heavy powder resulted in my muffler getting a bit hot, melting the main wiring harness on my sled. Not a good situation. The fine folks at Arctic Cat went a little light on the heat shield tape and also thought that it was a great idea to lay the harness down in the belly pan first, and then install the motor, chaincase, clutches, and everything else in the sled on top of it. As I sat cutting apart the melted birds nest of wires and re-taping the bare wire, I was hoping that this was gonna do the trick, as I didn't want to pop the $150 bones for a new harness, nor the hours of labor to install it. While I was in their redoing the wiring, I also gutted the restrictive factory air box and put on a K&N oval filter right on the throttle body and a K&N breather filter on the valve cover. Once I finished taping everything up with heat foil, I turned the ignition on with success. Fixed. Now my sled is as tricked out as it's gonna get as well as turning a few more ponies under the hood. She's an ice fishing mo-chine!


I figured that it was about time my lazy ass got out from behind the vise and put my boots on. I sucked it up and loaded up trailer after topping off its tires with air and re-torquing the lug nuts. Of course, I decided to make the maiden voyage of the season in a gotdamn snowstorm. The wind was a sumbitch, blowing the snow sideways. Nothing says fun like frozen crystals of ice jabbing you in the cornea. I made it on to the highway and drove to a lake on the edge of town. I unloaded my gear and hooked up the portable ice house to the snowmobile. Time to hit the ice. Once I got on the lake I saw how much fun I was going to have; I couldn't see a thing. For those of you who've never ridden a snowmobile before, driving blind into a whiteout is not the ideal thing to do. Hitting a snowdrift my surprise at 40 mph towing a portable is more excitement than one shall be allowed to have. Catching air on a touring sled, especially by surprise, is enough to have to go change your shorts. Lucky for me, I actually learn from my past mistakes, and took it slow on my way out this time. Even with my GPS guiding me at 20 mph, it still sucked.



Ice fishing isn't for the faint of heart. A 20 mph wind on wet hands can make your outing go bad in a hurry. Tip number one is to face your back to the wind. Tip number two is to wear a coat with a hood. Keeping the wind of your face can go a long way to keeping you warm while out scouting. I'd also recommend a pair of warm boots. As a set out making some swiss cheese, I found a nice spot on a flat in 10 FOW adjacent to a few deep water breaks. I grabbed my search rod set up, a small tungsten teardrop jig tipped with a waxie. I set up at the hole and dropped it down, a foot off the bottom. I marked a fish fairly quickly and had an earnest strike. I was figuring that I set up on top a school of small perch, but when I set the hook there was resistance. At first I thought I had hooked a pike. Typically on these flats, a predator will lurk off in the weedbeds looking for an easy meal. Reeling in the fish, it gave me a few decent runs, pulling line from the reel while my drag screamed. When I got the fish to the hole I was expecting a snot rocket. To my surprise, I pulled a nice chunky 18" walleye out from the hole. Bonus! A totally unexpected surprise.


Now don't go sending me hate mail because I posted a photo of a walleye. I know I give the fish a fair amount of abuse and bashing here, but ice fishing is different. Pretty damn tough to fly fish through the ice, so winter is the only time I resort to using bait and soft plastics. In addition, the only time I harvest fish is during the cold water months. I know that I'm the "roughfisher", but walleye is fair game through the ice (even though it is still boring) as are most other gamefish species. I've also been known to pursue salmonids through the ice. Tasty salmonids. I love eating fish, and so does my family. Might as well get my money's worth for my license fees.

And yes, that walleye was delicious.

frostilicus

The Great Migration

The beauty of the fall is that when it's too cold or windy to fly fish, or flows are not ideal, you can pursue your hand at other quarry like pheasants, ducks, geese, or grouse. With the recent passage of a strong cold front, I was fortunate to bear witness to the beginnings of the great migration. Mallards filled the sky, circling the freshly combined crops of corn, forming a great vortex as they spiraled out of the sky competing with each other over the corn rubble. Canadian geese, both lessers and greaters, amassed in giant flocks, darkening the sky with their silhouettes. Real estate on the earthen fields was a precious commodity as ganders of honkers gathered to feed and rest before their long trip south. Rivers and larger bodies of water that remained free of ice, held dozens upon dozens of trumpeter swans at bay.


The Great Migration is a wondrous feat of nature, worthy of capturing in person at least once in your lifetime. I was fortunate to be present for this spectacle with a pair of lenses to capture it all. Here is my account:













Marvelous.

Scenes from a Fall morning

Half a dozen hens and one rooster. I didn't even have a chance.