In this second part of the interview Tommy talks about the Pere Marquette watershed, the lure of trout fishing, fishing with kids, and what makes for a good guide. Look for Part III of the interview in the next week.

More information about Tommy is available at his website and at Hawkins Outfitters. Tommy is one of the top guides working in Michigan and the information he has to share is quite valuable.

T|N|T: Having fished the P.M. for over ten years myself, I have noticed that it seems like about ninety percent of the anglers who come to fish it fish only about ten percent of the publicly-accessible water. Without giving any actual spots away, what stretches or sections of the river would you say are most underutilized?

T|L: The middle and lower sections are overlooked most months of the year because the upper sections are just easier to wade and more accessable per mile of river. From the point of view of fall steelheading, the lower three-quarters of the river are under-utilized because, again, people believe that seeing more fish equates to catching more fish. But when the bite is on that couldn’t be further from the truth. In a similar way, the upper sections are under-utilized when salmon enter river system in the late summer.

Tommy Lynch and a Monster Brown Trout

In my view, trout fishing is best in September, with the possible exception of June on a good year of Hex. September is often overlooked because those Tuna-like Kings move up in September, and everyone just gets that deer-in-the-headlights look once they see all that girth moving against the current. Kings don’t eat well, or really turn me on, for that matter, and I just as soon fish trout and steelhead, even in September. I even fish to trout for most of the spring steelhead run because the bite really is the best in the fall and winter when it comes to fishing steelhead.

There are certain bug hatches and migrations of fish that are rarely noticed or even discussed, particularly in the middle-to-low sections of the river. On the right week steelhead may push up the river only a few miles – maybe as far as twenty — but if your fishing all fall or spring thirty miles or more upstream, you may never be aware that particular migration is even going on. This isn’t the Manistee or the Muskegon — or the Betsie for the matter – on the P.M. the fish don’t have a concrete barrier to bump their heads on, and they can go beyond even the 150 miles of open steelhead water and all the way into the upper trout and spawning sections. Between the Big South, the mainstream and the various feeder streams attached to the P.M., it isn’t hard to understand why the DNR doesn’t stock the P.M. It is already a sustainable hatchery, without the help of the DNR.

Natural reproduction on the P.M. is greater than most rivers just because the river runs free throughout the entire length. Trout and steelhead can, and do, roam in-and-out of fishable sections all the time. There are literally hundreds of miles to navigate, if you’re a finned-critter living in the Pere Marquette watershed. It is because of this that the P.M. gets returning and naturally reproducing wild fish in such huge numbers – it is of all those miles of open, quality water.

It really is quite amazing just how small a piece of water a spawning steelhead can choose to use, if given the access. I have found steelhead in creeks that weren’t half as wide as my fly rod is long, and this is where quality reproduction is taking place in the P.M. watershed — contrast that with “The Fly Water” where the fish are constantly harassed throughout their spawning ritual. Big difference.

You know, there really aren’t any bad sections on the P.M. If you get blanked in a given section, it is really more a matter of being there at the wrong time. Every section has its “moment in the sun” at some point in each year. Developing an understanding of good timing in fishing is a big piece of the puzzle of the P.M., and with added miles of water to consider and understand, the puzzle just has more pieces … but the more pieces you find, the clearer the total picture starts to look.

T|N|T: The vast bulk of the angling pressure on the P.M. seems to occur during the fall salmon and spring steelhead runs, but it’s also a tremendous producer of large brown trout (the best in the state, in my opinion). Which do you enjoy guiding folks for most: trout or steelhead, and why?

T|L: Well, I am not sure if I would say that the P.M. is the best big fish river in the state. That honor would go to a toss-up between the Manistee River and the Au Sable River, or maybe even a couple of other watersheds that I know that will remain anonymous. I will say that from the standpoint of looking at it as a full-year watershed, that, for its size, it is a very good piece of water. And from a hopper or egg standpoint, in particular, is second-in-line to only a couple of other streams in the state.

For myself, my favorite adversary is, no doubt, trout — because of the variety that they bring to the game, especially when it comes to looking at the variety of habitat, diversity of flies, angling techniques, rod and gear selection, etc. As you know, hundreds and hundreds of miles of water are opened-up on that last Saturday in April, and that means that I can get off the P.M. and travel around a bit looking for the next “best” happening — whether it is streamers here or a Sulfur hatch there, a good trout angler will stay mobile and travel to “tame the toads” or to “tango with a bunch of ‘teeners.”

There is no other fish I have ever fished that has kept me up at night thinking up new ways to persuade them to take a fly than brown trout. It’s as bad as thinking up novel “one liners” to toss at gals at the bar, and it will mess with your head — just as bad as that girl who turns you down or who looks at you as if your missing the boat in some way. Trout — especially brown trout — are very personal that way. They will cause you to lose sleep and, like woman, are very good at “refusals.”

In contrast, steelhead are more like “the best ride in the park.” They pull and run harder than any other freshwater fish, and they do it with flashy style — jumping, rolling, and running as hard, pound-for-pound, as Alaska ‘bows during the fall months of the year before water temperatures fall off. Larger fish are caught in the winter when cold water dowse their fire a bit, but they can also be fun again in the spring.

We catch steelhead quite often fishing for trout during our Hex hatches up and down the river, and though many are spring drop-back fish, every once in awhile you will hook a true Skamania while mousing in August on trout gear. It has happened to me a couple of times, and, as I said, there is simply no better ride on a dry fly of in Michigan.

T|N|T: I’ve got a son and a daughter, both age eight, and they are showing some interest in learning to fly fish. I’ve read that Hawkins Outfitters – the company for which you guide — is one of the only outfits in Michigan who will take-on the task of working with kids that young. What’s your personal viewpoint on when and how to bring kids into fly-fishing?

T|L: In my boat, a kid is really never too young to try – all they really need is an attention span lasting at least a few minutes. Sometimes I see a parent try to force it a little too early, and that can cause a poor experience, and that child may not want to re-engage at a later age because of that negative event. But others will shine to it right away, kind of like me, and then it never seems too early.

As far as Hawkins being one of only a few guiding outfits to take out young kids, I didn’t know that was the case. Why wouldn’t you want to take a little kid out? Have you ever seen the face of some little guy out on his first salmon trip with “chuck & duck” gear and he hooks up with a fish that is half his weight? Wow. If you could bottle the sensation that little boy gets the first time that rod almost gets pulled out of his hands, and that sense of awe that is written across his face, and that grin from ear-to-ear … Well, let’s just say that, if you could sell it, Starbucks would be going out of business.

When I watch a young boy or girl hook up with whatever we might be fishing, I get to relive my first years of angling just by seeing their faces light-up with that same sense of mystery and awe I once had. The mystery was always what was on the end of the line, and the awe always comes just the grand event of getting to go where those trout and salmon take us.

Actually, the biggest smiles I see in my boat don’t come from guys hooking-up on their tenth steelhead — it comes from the ten year-old boy that hasn’t seen a fly rod before and has his father’s hand gripping his suspenders so he isn’t pulled from the boat by the big King he is playing tug-of-war with. Those really are the biggest smiles.

Like many others, I was young, dumb, and full of spunk once — and when you’re at that point in your life you never really can see that far ahead. But as I get older I realize I am not going to live forever, and I have been trying to re-live some of the best years of my life in fishing. And many of those years were when I was a little guy myself, and I could barely fill-out a pair of waders.

Since “little” Tommy’s arrival just six months ago, I can think of no other event that gets me as geeked and teary-eyed as that first time I get to walk down to the river with my son. There may be nothing else quite like it, and I count the days!

T|N|T: One of your clients commented in his testimonial that your boat was “organized by a guy with OCD.” Besides being highly organized, what makes you a good guide, and what qualities should someone who’s not gone out with a guide before look for?

T|L: Yep, I am a neat freak. The funny thing is that I used to be a complete slob until I had to clean up after myself, but then I just ran with it.

What makes me a good guide? Well, for one thing, I am always trying to make myself into a better and better trout angler; I do believe if your going to do something well, you have to give it everything you’ve got. I am not into bowling, hunting, biking, skiing, ice fishing, scrapbooking, or even warmwater fishing. I basically just fish for trout – all the time.

Although this may be a little obsessive/compulsive, or even repetitive, because I am so one-tracked, you will never find yourself question whether I am at least trying to steer you in the right way. There are a number of very good guides in this state, some with much longer fuses, with larger boats that fish bigger rivers and catch more fish — and sometimes even bigger fish — but I dare say you will not meet but a handful of guys like me that do nothing but eat, sleep, ****, and fish. It’s an obsession.

Lots of guides will tell you that you don’t have to catch fish to have a great day, and this is true, but you had better be a guide that at least knows how to catch fish, or it will be tough to insure that your clients will regularly be able to say that they have had a great day with you on the river. Another thing: Having confidence in your gear, strong rowing skills, tying skills, and even “lunch skills” are all components of being a great gillie; but if you don’t have good people skills you can never be a good guide no matter how many fish you can put them on.

All good guides are somewhat cocky — almost arrogant — because of their self-proclaimed expertise or knowledge on a particular section of river or a particular type of fly fishing. This really isn’t all bad as it can add a little color and character to a trip, and in turn clients shine to it, and they will frequently take advice without second-guessing it, which can help to make for a quality guide trip. Guides that are cocky and arrogant but that lack strong angling skills often also lack the needed confidence. They will become frustrated and this, too, is something that clients notice, and they will retract, second-guess, and slowly slip through a guide’s “professional” fingers. That is a big difference between professional guides and amateur guides.

All I am saying is that you have to “walk the walk” as good as you “talk the talk” or, in particular, the better-skilled clients will see right through you. As a guide, as much as you love new clients or little ones out for their first time, you really get to be a guide instead of an instructor when your client for the day turns out to already have the basic skills down before hopping in the boat. And they are looking to spend the day with a really qualified, knowledgeable expert who is willing to share their years of experience on that particular watershed.

There are no savants in this sport — you are only as good as the time that you have put into it, and I can tell you there is a great deal of “new meat” out there.

Here are some hints: Watch your guide’s knot-tying speed, his comfortableness when it comes to carrying-out his lunch duties, and how he manages when someone doesn’t understand the directions he is giving. If he starts yelling or belittling in anyway, he is likely a rookie. If in the same situation you see a guide who reacts with a more fun or humorous direction to fixing or discussing the cast, he is more likely a seasoned oarsman.

If he says nothing at all and goes and sits in the back of the boat, ask him to take you to the launch because you hired a guide that day and we get paid pretty good to take people out on the river and teach them something about fishing. If he doesn’t see the opportunity in each guide trip he gets to make it a fun day instead of a tough one, he needs to go look for other line of work because there are a thousand other guys that would trade spots with him in a second.

There are many good guides in the state that have diversified their interests to include biking, snowmobiling, skiing, and even guiding other venues like fishing in the salt, but a great guide is the guide that not only knows how deep the pool is, but even the size of the rocks and how they are spaced out on the bottom of it, and you will only learn that if your guide is living where their guiding year around.

Confidence it what makes a guide know there is a fish over there, and a seasonal or unseasoned guide in the same situation will be unsure and second-guessing even himself. Clients can sense that and it leads to awkward questions, and then a loss of trust, and no matter how talented a client is, he can’t learn from you if he doesn’t believe in your skills as a guide, just as he will rise up and listen and respond when he does.

One good rule to live by as a guide is this — no matter how much you want that client to cast a certain way, no matter how good of a fly caster you are, or think you are, or how loud you are willing to yell at someone (and you should remember who is signing the check that day), your client will never develop your exact casting style or profile.

If you don’t accept this, both you and your client will have a poor experience in the boat, and neither of you will want to repeat it. And that means that you’re lacking as a professional guide because you simply not going to get that re-booking. And, right now, I can tell you that the only guides that know how to get a client back in the boat are surviving these days, not the ones that live almost exclusively on new business.

Secondly, it is important that a good guide have an arsenal of different teaching strategies instead of some “foolproof way” that “works on everyone” — because there is nothing like a “one-size-fits-all” teaching strategy. Great guides have a dozen different ways, or combinations of ways, to cater to each person’s unique learning style.

It really comes down to taming and using the client’s muscle memory as it is, and not how you might wish it was — and every person uses different muscles, which impacts their various casting habits in different ways. As a guide and an instructor, your teaching agenda has to respond to the unique needs of the situation, rather than trying to bring the client over to a single way of seeing and doing things. Good teaching is teaching that really responds to where the student is in their individual development.

In this first part of the interview Tommy talks about indicator fishing for steelhead, Spey casting, and night fishing for brown trout with mouse patterns. Look for Part II of the interview in the next week.

More information about Tommy is available at his website and at Hawkins Outfitters. Tommy is one of the top guides working in Michigan and the information he has to share is quite valuable.

T|N|T: According to your website, before you decided to become a fishing guide you were going to college to become a funeral director, which I understand is your family’s business. Was it difficult to walk away from both a solid profession that would have promised financial security and from “the family legacy,” so to speak? How did you come to make that decision?

T|L: Nope, wasn’t a hard decision at all. I have two brothers in that business, but there are simply more smiles in this line of work. I like living happy! My father and I decided in an Irish, highly-toned conversation one day that I could certainly be a decent funeral director, but I would never love it like I loved fly fishing. He was right on both counts, as he usually is.

That's Tommy on the right with his friend, Mr. Big Trout.

Fly fishing is like nothing I had ever experienced, with the possible exception of sex. It just wasn’t the sort of thing that I was able to walk away from or put away and then take out again on the weekends. Once I did it, I had to continue. Every day that I didn’t fish, I felt as if I was digging myself into a hole that would have to “fish myself out of” eventually.

Besides — to be a great funeral director — like my father and my brothers — you have to become a responsible, well-dressed, and clean-shaven member of society … all overrated achievements in the eyes of a trout bum.

I caught a bass at age four in my Uncle Fred’s private pond in New York. But my father didn’t take me to the Pere Marquette River until I was seven years old. He used to tell me, “Tommy, I took you to the river when you were seven, and you never really came home!” My pop was right, and in some way he always encouraged me to do what I loved because he saw that I would be very lucky guy, if I could. In a way I still feel like I am part of “the legacy,” just a different part of it now, as many of my uncles and cousins will come to fish with my father and with me every September. I hope that tradition continues for generations to come.

T|N|T: You mention on your website that you were the first guide to do “chuck & duck”-free, floating-line-only steelhead trips on the Pere Marquette. I remember a time when guides and fly shop owners alike would tell you that “chuck & duck” was the only way to catch steelhead reliably, especially in cold weather. I take it that’s no longer the case. What led you to the decision to not use the “chuck & duck” method?

T|L: “Chuck & Duck” has its uses on the bigger rivers where strong casting might be a problem for clients who have never moved a fly line before — much less 50’ of line with a mend! That being said the best “big river” fly guys I know are now running center-pin versions of indicator techniques – including several of the guys on the Hawkins crew, like Jon Ray and Ed McCoy.

This technique is even easier to apply than small water rollcasting, thanks to the overall size of the water fished on the major tailwaters Also tailwater fisheries get that heavy stocking much more than the smaller streams, and of course the P.M. mainstream gets zero plants, but has one of the best natural returns and reproduction in the Midwest.

For the P.M. it was a no-brainer and a bi-product of Western horizontal nymphing techniques. For me, that sort of indicator technique just got more and more vertical until I was running directly under the floats (much like spawn under a float). But then the floats and rig design itself started to change to cater to different water clarities and target water, along with other changes to compensate for different depths and flows. Without this basic style of casting, mending, and rig design, a true drag-free drift with a tapered fly line would be almost impossible, unless you were drift-casting from a moving boat.

For me, fly fishing starts when you add a taper and a cast to the use of fly line. If you are just waiting for a bump or a stop, and feeling your way through a run, you are not really fly fishing — you are drift fishing with a fly rod. This is especially true when you’re using a non-tapered fly line, or just colored mono, and throwing massive amounts of lead.

The leading cause of foul-hooked fish is due to tippets being dragged across or into the fish, just like they are from the swing of a “chuck” rig. Rigs like that never even allow for a true drag-free drift because the technique doesn’t produce unless you do have drag.

The bottomline is that eggs, nymphs and other food particles will travel down the seam, not across the seam like you get with “chuck & duck” — that is just not a natural presentation and something that needed fixing on the P.M. years ago.

Applications in cold weather are limitless when it comes to indicator fishing. Not only can you fish more water per drift, you can also fish it more accurately. And you will never have to worry about what is on the bottom of the river since you can suspend your flies with a vertical presentation. Fish are never sitting with their bellies on the floor of the river anyway. Normally they are holding about a foot off the bottom. In the fall they hold-off even more. With “chuck” gear the reason so many fish are foul-hooked is because the hooks are underneath the fish before the hook-set.

All of this explains why foul-hooking is so common since people usually finish their cast with a lift and they normally set whenever the “bump” feels fishy enough. This practice of fishing is so easy, though, that “a caveman can do it,” which is why some people, I think, still practice it.

Of course, fish use wood as structure so that they have a place in which they can hold safely, but “chuck & duck” anglers will pass by those spots for that very reason — they can’t fish in the wood. But a good indicator angler will look at a woody spot and see opportunity rather than inevitable defeat. This in turn builds confidence, and there isn’t a fly in your box that will out fish that quality.

Being able to fish a spot without touching the bottom is always huge, but when you’re fishing an INDI with an 11’ switch rod, then you only have to bring-in a few strips before you cast again. Contrast that with “chuck” gear where you have to strip-in at least 90% of your running/mono line before you can “chuck” it out there with that famous pendulum-like lob.

In the winter an added bonus is that, with less line stripped-in per cast, there is less water being pulled-off the line and so your rod guides freeze-up slower. The more line you strip in when the air is below freezing, the more time you will spend popping the ice out of the guides.

Consider as well that, just from the standpoint of efficiency, the amount of water covered per “chuck & duck” cast is really low compared to the use of the indicator method. If your fishing an indicator, then you’re matching the speed of the current and covering more water without having to work as hard with all that lobbing. The catch is that you have to learn how to actually fly cast, as you can’t just lob the lead out there anymore.

For little ones getting their first salmon or steelhead, “chuck & duck” does have its uses, but as a fly fishing guide, you’re paying me to learn how to fly fish, and if I take you “chuck & duck” fishing, I should just give you your money back because you will never learn to fly cast doing that, nor will you learn if I have you fish a fly line with zero taper.

Slowing down a drift for the cooler water is more about placement than about lead. If a fish is holding in slower water because it is cooler, you can accurately present your flies to that specific slower water better because you’re fishing with an indicator. You’re not only using the indi-bobber as a strike detector, but you’re also using it for fly placement because that way you know right where your flies are relative to your float through the entire drift. From a learning standpoint an indicator truly lets you understand where the fish are when they bite. When the bobber drops and disappears you get a nice mental picture of where that fish was holding when revisiting that spot on future outings.

I remember specifically a couple of fellows passing me just above the New Access one year when we had a good run of fish and we were running the floats with consistency. They were laughing at me, and giggling that I was using a bobber (a Thill Gold Metal Ice Float) and a real fly line. But before they were out of eyesight around that next bend, I was playing a dandy and those fellows were back there putting ketchup on their previous words and taunts.

“Chuck & duck” is old school, and a technique designed really to crash flies into stationary targets. It is quite a distance, in my opinion, from actual fly fishing. Do fish take flies on “chuck” gear? Yes. Do they also get blindsided and snagged with the same technique? Yes. Will an indicator presentation out-fish “chuck” gear three-to-one or better in most situations? Yes. And it is genuine fly fishing, to boot.

“Chuck & duck” is kind of like tie-dyes — sooner or later you just have to let it go.

T|N|T: On your website you talk briefly about Spey casting, which, while it’s anything but a new technique, is still relatively unknown in the Midwest. Is this something we should all be getting interested in? Why or why not?

T|L: It is a really cool technique and a great place to go for steelhead fishermen in Michigan looking to diversify their game beyond straight nymphing. “The tug” or “grab” is as addicting and gratifying as catching ten trout on indicators. Battles are dampened-down thanks to the larger gear and heavier tippets, but that initial hook-up when the fish drives with all of his weight is worth it. It is really almost too short-lived, like most intense sensations in life.

Mystery and surprise trump shear numbers with constant mending and casting, though it can get a little boring sometimes on your hang-downs or repetitious casting. A streamer grab is much more “shock & awe” than just an egg gulp or a nymph take. They hit that Disco Leech like it owes ‘em money, and that’s why you swing — not for numbers — but for that very personal take that only occurs when a fish moves in for an attack instead of just a passive bite.

Though nymphing produces more steelhead than any another other fly technique, if I had a dollar for every time we’ve hooked-up with a giant October or November fish that just kicked our ass on the lighter tippets, I would be able to afford another Spey rod rig that could give the same fish an attitude adjustment. When the moon and stars align, then sooner or later your going to hook a super donkey, and though your 10’ seven-weight has landed several fish over ten pounds, that same rod will buckle when tangling with a fifteen-pounder in 50 degree water. Having a big, bad 12.5’ eight-weight Spey gun and goat rope tippets fitted to a larger streamer hook makes landing the fish of your career on a fly much more realistic.

The trick is making that otherwise untamable fish say “cheese” before going about his business.

Spey casting is something that will literally make a fishless day of fishing totally successful — especially if you have a good matched line. When you are Spey casting, whether double or single Spey, or even using Snap-T applications, each cast is unique, critical, and just flat-out fun to do. Timing is everything, and if you’re off just a little, you may wind up wearing your fly instead of casting it. If you cast is correct though, it is like hearing a violin when it is played just right and it is great to watch that line travel like a sound wave across the water accordingly.

After casts like that, with the added gratification of just watching that giant loop open up and fold out with a nice tug at the end, well, who needs a take or a fish at that point? Your cast was a success!

T|N|T: You’ve had the opportunity to guide and fish in some of the most desirable locations in the fly fishing world–Western trout rivers, Alaska, the Cayman Islands—and yet you returned to make your home and your living as a guide in Michigan. I’m guessing the rivers and the fishing here must compare favorably to what you found elsewhere?

T|L: Don’t get me wrong – “Out West” is a Mecca for all trout fisherman because of the shear amount of incredible fishing water, as well as the phenomenal numbers of trout per mile. And then there are the amazing scenic backdrops in places like Alaska. But of course the downside is that water is well-fished and full of cookie-cutters and ‘bows. I found out a long time ago that the more of the same-sized fish I caught, the less each one before that catch meant to me. The variety of fish that we have here in Michigan is very diverse. In a given day of hopper fishing you will catch everything from steelhead smolt 5” long to two-foot browns that will likely eat that same smolt, if brought-in slow enough. You may not get twenty fish in the middle-teen class to the net, but you may see several browns over 20” long, which makes Michigan’s Big-Fish-to-Fish-Number ratio pretty impressive.

There is no doubt in my mind that the fish of the salt are the meanest pound-for-pound fish in the world, especially Bonefish. But, like tarpon, there are many of them out there and they all look alike. One could argue though that the permit is the brown trout of the seas just because of their rarity and wariness.

I can almost remember every brown trout I ever caught — and it isn’t hard, especially when it comes to the bigger ones. Unlike steelhead and even bonefish, no two browns ever really look alike. They are kind of like snow flakes in that respect, and that makes them very interesting to me. To me each one a different piece of eye candy – unlike just tearing another ‘bow or bone off the line and to make another cast for another fish that could be it’s twin. One day I may even get to go to Argentina with Chuck and his boys … saving my pennies so I can chase the gold.

Like other world-class fisheries, Michigan has lots of good fishing, especially when that certain bite turns on. One of the neatest things about Michigan fly fishing is every month of the year seems to have one of these “turn-ons” — whether it is Mousin’ Midnights or trophy steelhead in the snow, the truth is that I can usually walk out my door and do some world-class fly-fishing, with real variety, all year long. If that isn’t worth posting up a tent, I am not sure what is.

T|N|T: One of the best features of the Pere Marquette is that it can be productively fished just about every day of the year, in almost any weather. When is your favorite time to be on the water?

T|L: Mousin’, baby! There is no other time, after seeing so many trout sections over and over again in this state, that the mystery and anticipation for a take is so heightened in me as when the lights are off and the game is on. If you haven’t fished at night, then you’re missing a soul-deepening event. All your senses are magnified as you lose the ability to see what is right out there in front of your face.

Casting flies into the blackness of night is an acquired taste, but it is addicting – particularly once you hit a 20+” trout on a fly. Those first few nights your mind will play tricks on you and it will turn that small frog in the grass behind you into a bear sniffing within feet of your neckline. But stay with it and you will appreciate fishing in a whole new light, or lack thereof. Use the force, Luke, and do give into the Darkside, for those that do are paid in feet and not in inches.

Surprise and size is why we suit up after dark, and sooner or later it does pay to be out there. This sort of fishing isn’t about listening to and identifying birds, or watching the “bikini hatch” come down while you are fishing midday with hoppers, though that can be very nice, too. This is about swinging for the fences at night when solitude is limited midday because of thriving daytime air temps and canoe liveries that seem to spawn canoes with no limit. Of course, even on warm summer Saturdays, though, that only lasts until 6 PM — then the fisherman and wolves get to go with the flow.

I refer to brown trout as “wolves” because they live just like them, especially the big ones. They prefer to live in the wood or log jams, taking cover during daylight, but they storm-out and take up strategic positions after hours so they can maximize their predatory productiveness under the cover of night.

They prefer to pounce as much as chase, but also love to study all their prey before any attack, and are seldom seen until they do. They stay off the radar until the very last second and then launch a rude campaign of pain on whatever got too close or couldn’t run out the clock. Brown trout are moody and witty and will keep you up at night in some way or another.

As a fly angler, you’re going to improve your casting and fishing skills much more at night. When you are forced to truly feel your way through a cast and then calculate where a bank or bush might be in order to “make it happen, captain,” then it is truly is like going Jedi with a fly rod. You’re using more of your mind to outwit that fish then you ever would with the lights on, but the joke is on the fish because as you improve with your midnight skills, the fish will bow to your impossibly-placed after-hours cast and maybe fall victim to a 8089TMC or worse.

In no time they will be forced to say “cheese” in the moonlight. I’ve learned more about my casting, and how to do it right, in the dark then I ever have in daylight. In daylight you can make a bad cast work, or compensate on a forward cast to clean up a bad back cast. But in the dark, if you don’t have the right timing and angles, you will never get a cast to roll or stretch out.

Flies on the Manistee

Trout fishing on the Manistee River in the early season … one of the best ways the spend an early spring afternoon (or, just as often, a cloudy, late afternoon!).

In this useful article, Chuck Hawkins of Hawkins Outfitters discusses the import role of Hendrickson’s and black caddis in early season trout fishing on the Manistee River, and he illustrates the lifecycle of the Hendrickson mayfly as a series of pictures of the corresponding artificial. What goes for the Manistee, goes for the rest of Northern Michigan — Hendricksons and black caddis are staples on all our waters. Read up and then fill those boxes!