“If you had to choose one fly for all occasions, what would it be?” I posed.

Often thought about, we each pondered a moment and gave up our preference.

“The Woolly Bugger is by far the fly that catches the most species of fish.” One retorted.

“Yes, true, but an egg pattern catches everything, anytime.” The second pitched in.

“I would have to choose the Muddler Minnow.” They both paused briefly and uttered a resounding~

“Good call.”

Many flies adorn my boxes, from pheasant tail nymphs, copper johns, little black stones, hares ears, to Adam’s, Hendrickson’s, BWO’s and a slew of streamers, but during my childhood adventures, I recall a late Saturday afternoon in September to which I base my loyalty.

Each year growing up, I eagerly anticipated the opening of trout season and traveling three hours north to Grayling to visit family and further explore reaches of the Au Sable not yet known to a fourteen year old. Something magical and mystical happens on your journey north. The elevation changes, the trees become more coniferous, the air more decidedly trout habitat. You know when you are in Grayling when the scent of tall pine trees mingles with the fragrance of fish pellets on your hand. A quick walk along the river’s banks in bare feet introduces you to the prickly needles dotting the trails and, if you pay attention, a trout rising in the bend behind the hospital. There is a section of river below the Fish Hatchery on N. Down River Rd. that was dedicated to Children Only (under 16) and I waded its cool waters as much as possible. It was in this beautiful stretch of river that I began my soon to emerge lifelong love of all things trout and flyfishing. Dozens of brookies, a few browns, and a fair share of rainbows enticed me deeper into the art and beauty of my leisure. It happened on the last Saturday of the season, after a semi-haphazard roll cast to a half submerged tag alder that I became enamored with the mystical power of the Muddler Minnow.
A sudden vicious grab and take startled me to attention. My 8’6” 4wt. silver fiberglass Abu Garcia doubled while the matching metallic Ryobi reel screamed off line like never before. Panic was my only reflex, fingers fumbled and knuckles were beaten until I regained control of my line and managed a beefy twenty-inch rainbow to the bank. I couldn’t stop my knees from shaking and in delirium ran back to my aunt’s house to get my younger brother, Barry, and coax him in to returning to the hotspot. He initially tied on a Warden’s Worry and I kept with what I was throwing. Not long after and I was into another hefty ‘bow from the shadows of the fallen shrub, and again a third, all nudging the twenty inch mark. Barry became perplexed and inquired as to what the secret fly was and I cautiously relinquished one of my #12 Muddlers to him. Moments later he connected with the monster of the hole and we both freaked. After a run up and back down the river, he finally guided the 23 3/4” brute to the net. It’s girth and magnificent color made my fish pale in comparison. The season ended that day with my brother only catching the one and I with four between 19”& 21”, but Barry decided to cash in on an offer my father presented to us both. “I will pay for each of you boys to have one fish mounted, but only one.” His offer still stood and resonated in the corridors of my mind some twenty plus years later.

Each year growing up, I eagerly anticipated the opening of trout season and traveling three hours north to Grayling to visit family and further explore reaches of the Au Sable not yet known to a fourteen year old.

The introduction of the Muddler Minnow happened quite by coincidence at our cabin in Canada just the year prior. Evenings become very dark, pitch black would be more appropriate. So, our family gathers each night to play cards, bantering about the day and planning the next day’s events. “A hike up to Rainbow Lake or Lost Lake? How about that porcupine we saw scamper across the train tracks today?” In the midst of one such evening, a gentleman from across the lake showed up at our door to say “Heh.” Friendly enough of a chap, he soon found out I had just

begun to take to flyfishing and he offered a feathered combination from his worn bushman’s hat. “This here is a Muddler Minnow, eh. Its all you need up here for dem specks.” Apparently, across the border, brook trout become ‘speckled trout’ and lakers become ‘greys’. After that, the solo canoeist slipped into the darkness and cut a smooth ripple into a black hole. I had done very well on previous trips up to Camp Grayling, throwing the very trusted Panther Martin in yellow with red dots into the mouth of any tributary on our vast lake, but the art and act of enticing the trout with a fly- that was the beginning of the end. Our ventures took us to a beaver dam above a favorite waterfall we would often tease 7-inch brookies with our gold tru-turns adorned with leaf worms. The Algoma Central Railroad had slated to blow a dam that had become too large and posed a threat to the train tracks and the bridge below if it were to go on it’s own someday. Tales of beaver ponds as large as football fields and loaded with eager brook trout were the stuff of lore and fiction I had read in other anglers journals, a treasure of this magnitude had to be found. We trecked, sweated, hiked, and moaned about the weight of our gear and raspberry scratches from the bush. Bitten and swollen from black flies that somehow elude your attention when we finally discovered our personal Holy Grail.  This was like finding the Great Wall of China. Poplar, birch, beech and assorted pine with the engineering detail of an MIT grad. Multiple beaver families had amassed a complex network of mini dams that consumed more than a football field. I had on my lucky Mickey Mouse T-shirt, yet to discover the wonders of Simms and other industry standards we have today and as soon as my fly hit the water, it was spanked by a parr marked stunted brookie, then another, and another. I don’t believe any of the specks we caught that day broke the 8″ mark, but they were too colorful and I too enthusiastic to care. That dam was blown out shortly after our discovery, and we like to believe all those malnourished adolescent brook trout found a new home in our much roomier lake. To this day, I never had the chance to say “Thanks!” to the man who gave me that fly which caught well over 30 fish that day.

I have had the pleasure of fishing much of Michigan’s waters, some of Canada , and a trip to Belize for Bones. For most of my freshwater excursions you will be sure to find a Muddler in various mottled turkey colors and sizes in my box.  I am still waiting to catch a true ‘trophy’ fish, but will indeed need to have it mounted on my own dime. My father passed away last April, the week prior to opener, and I hadn’t yet taken him up on his offer.

Tight Lines,
Koz

[Age, wisdom and personal growth have brought me to the stage of appreciation, conservation and education of our limited natural resources. While in this day and age it wouldn’t be PC to stuff a creature merely to hang it on a wall. I rather take a few quick pictures and relish in the reward of releasing a creature that he/she may pass on their beneficial genetic make-up for the next generation. The memory of those moments, and others like them are more than enough to keep the spirit in me alive.]

If you’re not familiar with this part of the country, you should start by knowing that we’re talking about an area of over 20,000 square miles that straddles the boundaries of four states: Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and Illinois. You also should know that we’re talking about an area of the country that offers some outstanding fly fishing opportunities for large fish on dependable hatches.

In a mad dash from Michigan to the mountains of Montana or Wyoming, one can easily pass through the Driftless Region — which is an area with strong enough trout fishing to make it a fine destination all by itself. In any event, with snow just around the corner due throughout Northern Michigan, T|N|T will make it more of a priority in the next few months to get you thinking about angling destinations near and far.

“Hope,” as Dickenson writes, “is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.”

Michigan's UP Wonderland

Carp River (Type 2 from Deer Lake Dam to Morgan Creek, Type 3 from Morgan Creek to Lake Superior)

The Carp is one of the more popular spots near Marquette, as it is just a short drive from downtown. For the most part, however, the proximity isn’t noticeable.  A relatively steep river that empties into Lake Superior just east of Marquette, the Carp offers anglers chances to hone their skills in a variety of situations. The river is easily wadeable and wide enough to accommodate fly casting in most places. Some pools and runs can get rather cramped, however, so a short spinning rod might be a good idea to bring along. Two of the best access points are near the river’s mouth at the bridge on Highway 28 and near Marquette Mountain ski area at the bridge on County Road 553. The river flattens out near the mouth and fishing becomes fairly marginal until the salmon run. The best chances for fish the rest of the year are found off 553. The most productive spots tend to be the pools between rapids and holes underneath dead falls. Both dry and subsurface caddis imitations produce well, as do small Mepps spinners. Rainbow trout are the most abundant fish, and average eight- to twelve inches. Decent populations of brook trout and brown trout live in the river as well, and they are joined each fall by salmon and steelhead.  The river is open year-round from the confluence at Morgan Creek, allowing fishermen to enjoy salmon and steelhead action in the spring and fall.

Chocolay River (Type 3 from confluence of Big Creek)

Located in Chocolay Township east of Marquette, the Chocolay River is deeper than the Carp, but still easily navigated by wading fishermen. Chest waders might be necessary after a heavy rainfall. Nearly all of the river is wide enough for fly casting, save a few points where willows hang across the entire width. Brook trout are the primary species in the Chocolay, and the average size is eight- to ten-inches. They can usually be coaxed out from branches of submerged deadfalls with small spinners, but dry flies fished alongside the stream bank past overhanging vegetation works well too. The river joins with Big Creek several miles from Lake Superior, and the downstream portion is open year-round. The river gets good numbers of lake-run fish in the fall, and fishermen have good luck fishing from the public access site off M-28. The site is one of two handicap accessible fishing piers in the UP. The river is much slower in this area and the bottom can be very silty, so be cautious when venturing too far out into the water. During the summer months, good fishing can be found upstream of the bridge off Highway 41 outside the main township.

Dead River

If you’re in town for a few hours or have some down time in the middle of your day, the Dead River is the perfect place to go. The Dead runs right through the city and has several popular access points. Its proximity to town is a double-edged sword, however, as parts of it receive much more pressure than most other UP trout waters. It used to be dammed at Tourist Park on the north end of Marquette until several years ago. The dam has not been rebuilt since, allowing the river to flow freely though that area. Although it is primarily known for its walleye, smallmouth bass and northern pike fishing, the Dead River also has a healthy population of brook trout and the occasional brown throughout. Anglers stack up near Tourist Park in the fall and spring for chances at spawning salmon and steelhead, but the spot is also good year-round for bass and trout. Access for the area is at the bridge on County Road 553. The river is good for fly casting or spin casting with either lures or live bait. Try deep pools and the edges of deeper runs. Additional access can be found off Wright Street through Marquette or upriver from the public boat launch off Forestville Road.

Strawberry Lake (Type D Lake)

If river fishing isn’t your thing, or you simply want a day’s rest from fighting currents and overhanging trees, Strawberry Lake might be your ideal destination. The lake is located near the Marquette County Fairgrounds, and is only a few acres in size. No motorized boats are allowed, but kayaks, canoes, and inflatables are ideal for its waters anyway. The DNR has done a good job managing the lake for brook trout and panfish, giving anglers a legitimate chance at satisfying the 15-inch minimum size requirement. It has very little topography and bottoms out at around 20 feet, so the fish generally go deep during the heat of the summer afternoons. Evening time produces some good action, however, as the fish come up shallow to feed heavily. Dry flies are a good bet, as are small minnow imitations and spinners.

Additional Upper Peninsula fishing information can be found at U.P. Trout Fishing.

If you are interested in a guide service, Uncle Ducky’s Charters provides float or wading trips for most Upper Peninsula waters.

Trevor Pellerite writes to T|N|T from his Upper Michigan home in Marquette — Robert Traver country. He is a senior English major at Northern Michigan University. After he graduates, he would like to become an outdoor writer and fly fishing guide.

John Patrick Hager of Wausau, Wisconsin, fishes the Jordan Rivers roily waters "English" style - from a "beat" cut into the riverbank overlooking a deep pool.

God created the Jordan River. And by any account, He did a very, very good job of it. But it was hundreds of tough, agile loggers who turned it into the trout stream it is today—the most technically challenging piece of water I’ve ever fished anywhere in the United States during nearly 40 years of fly angling.

The Jordan begins as myriad springs and rivulets in the northeast corner of Antrim County near the tip of Michigan’s lower peninsula. They seep out of hillsides, and bubble up from the aquifer to create clear, cold “fingers” of water. Ultimately, they join and turn into a river filled with butter-yellow brown trout, brookies with bellies as orange as a pumpkin, and rainbows as brilliant as the bumper on my old ’59 Pontiac.

That’s the part God created.

What makes the Jordan so damnably challenging to anglers is the jackstraw of logs that crisscross its bottom like thousands of toothpicks that were dumped from a box.

It’s as if the five-o’clock whistle blew on the last day of the logging drive a hundred years ago and all those old sunburned Swedes and Finns pulled their caulks out of big old tree trunks and simply stomped off to Marquette.

Over the ensuing years, those logs sank. Some jammed together to form tiny islands that now sprout grass, new-growth cedar trees, and a proliferation of gorgeous wildflowers that attract scores of photographers. It’s such a beautiful place, in fact, that the Jordan was designated in 1972 as Michigan’s first National Scenic River.

Thousands of other logs simply turned into a crossword-puzzle of trout hideouts, creating classic “pocket water” fishing. It’s the sort of place where a downstream float with a dry fly can be done, but not easily in most places. Forget about fishing nymphs completely. Actually, it’s best to cast upstream.

But let me repeat that casting here demands a high degree of precision and total concentration on the fly’s drift.

First, the river itself is pretty narrow in most places, perhaps twenty feet wide, with streamside tag alders and cedar trees ever ready to snatch an errant backcast.

Capt. Tony Petrella gets his feet wet in the Jordan River while trying to manipulate a dry fly over and around the myriad tangle of logs and felled trees.

Second, the maze of submerged and partially-submerged logs create “targets” that range in size from as small as a soup kettle to the dimensions of a bathtub, with a rapidly flowing current that whisks the fly along as if you were in Montana on the Madison.

The trick is to analyze the stretch of water ahead of you. Study the flow, and consider where the trout are likely hiding. Then try to figure out where you can drop the fly and get a few seconds of free-float before making a quick upstream roll cast to throw the hook out of harm’s way.

Success means never having to say you’re sorry you just broke off another two-buck fly.

Success also means a nine-inch or ten-inch fish that literally leaps six feet out of the water because he’s very angry that somebody jabbed him in the mouth with a hunk of metal. Actually bringing one of these trout to hand is an experience. Usually, it’s “How did he get under that log and break me off so fast?”

But casting to, and perhaps hooking, these fish is only part of the Jordan’s challenge.

The other is staying dry. Because the Jordan, as Theodore Gordon once wrote, “is as lucent as air,” it creates very deceptive optical illusions. You can be standing knee deep on one side of a big old sunken log, then get a shockingly cold dunking by stepping into considerably deeper water on the other side.

And I do mean cold, since the Jordan rarely gets warmer than 56 degrees.

That means part of your analytical process involving where to cast also includes “where do I step next?” This really is no place for hip boots, although at first glance it appears they’d be perfect. Nope. Stick with chest-highs. Maybe throw in a fold-up wading staff as well.

As far as the actual fishing goes, light rods such as a six-foot two- weight are perfect for the Jordan. A four-weight is almost too much gun, although some stretches do have a lot of hoppers in August and early September so a four can be useful then.

Capt. Tony Petrella

Generally speaking, you can expect good hatches of caddis. Stock your fly box with the usual color spectrum mostly in size 16 and 18, though some 20s certainly come in handy. Blue wing olives (Baetis) in size 16 and 18 usually are around, along with Sulphers (dorothea, in size 16), and Mahoganies (isonychia, in size 14). Sparsely tied parachutes seem to work best, and are easy to see because of the white wing post.

Smallish stoneflies in gray and yellow frequently pop up, and beetles, ants, and crickets are always good—especially in late summer.

So, if you’re tired of fishing in crowded places for hatchery fish, give the Jordan River a try some time. Believe me, you’ve never  fished anyplace like this before!

Capt. Tony Petrella is a Coast Guard-licensed guide in southwest Florida for tarpon, snook and redfish during the winter and spring, and also floats and wades Michigan’s finest trout streams during the summer, and guides upland hunters in the fall. He can be reached at 231-585-7131, or tightloops@peoplepc.com, or at his website.

Rio's Dredger Line

The Detroit Free Press recently ran two articles of interest to Northern Michigan fly anglers. The first one is written by the Free Press’ regular outdoor columnist, Eric Sharp, and it relates the details of his recent trip to the Soo to fish for Atlantic salmon with well-known local guide John Giuliani. As Sharp relates, they spent the afternoon fishing out of a boat below the power plant on the Canadian side, and on the particular day that they were fishing, it was a bit cold and the bite was slow. Nevertheless they managed to boat a few fish.

As Sharp discovered, when the weather is better, the bite can already be very good at the Soo. Large numbers of Atlantic salmon are already in the area, and Giuliani stated that “Atlantic salmon will continue to arrive and stage in the river through late August, when huge numbers of pink and chinook salmon arrive. At that point [Giuliani] switches from fishing in the boat to wading the rapids, where it’s common to catch 20 to 40 salmonids of three or four species in one day.” If you’re interested, now is the time to book your trip as all available spots will fill fast.

Rio's Carp Line

Also in the Free Press recently is an article on carp fishing in Grand Traverse Bay with Traverse City-based guide Dave McCool — owner of McCool Outdoor. Fly fishing for carp on Grand Traverse Bay has become something of a angling destination in the United States at this point, but McCool was on the leading-edge of that years ago.

Carp, as he notes in the article, are really only available at a flats target in Grand Traverse Bay from May through the first week of July, but because of the growing popularity of the fish among fly anglers, McCool is starting to look to the flats along the southern shore of the Upper Peninsula as a way to extend the season for chasing carp with a fly. In the article McCool is quoted as saying “that’s what I need to find, places where we can extend the carp fishing season into August. I already have people who want to send anglers here from England, where carp fishing is huge. But we need to be able to find fish for another six weeks to make it go.”

It is hard not to love a spitting sulphur hatch in the fading light of a Michigan early summer, fishing through the silence of the upper Manistee, a contrail etching the sky. They are actually beautiful bugs, and bring eager strikes from the soup line of hungry trout. We’re mostly past the Hendricksons of middle spring, but a few here and there are still making an appearance, and the trout were taking those, too. Bryon caught “a smelt platter” (his words) of little trout on a swung soft hackle. We finished the night over Spikeburgers in Grayling. What a treat.