Lake MI day four

The undeniable fact of life is that you keep getting older. Time wears away at us slowly, but the effects of that wear jump out at you faster than expected. One day your back hurts when you get out of bed...all on it's own. One day you see the opening and go for the drive but can't get there and turn the ball over. One day you groan audibly when you bend over to unlace your wading boots...where did that come from? Looking back, while it seemed like the pace of life had suddenly caught up to us, we had slowed quite a bit over the years. Don't get me wrong...four days is the perfect amount for a fishing trip...three is too short and five makes us miss our families to the point of not enjoying the fishing, but the length of each individual day and the type of day has gradually gotten easier over the years. We still forget the simple things, like eating, or carrying water, but now we will actually stop to grab something when driving from spot to spot. And while we still basically fish all the available hours...we do it a lot slower and a lot more relaxed.

Are we older? Wiser? Or simply in worse shape.

Regardless, day four dawned on two old, wise, and out of shape fisherman. We were cruising through a small town, enjoying our coffee and thinking ahead to the flat we planned to fish when Wendy pointed out that we were literally driving by tailing carp. We pulled over as the harbor town awoke, geared up to some strange looks from the dog walkers and vacationers, walked into the bay (in plain and loving sight of some gear fisherman) and promptly caught some carp.






It was that simple. A nice family took some photos for us, you can see their shadows. We wandered around the flat, answering questions while peppering carp with casts and landing fish. It was all insanely relaxed...and simple. Carp fishing for the civilized.



We ended the day and the trip where we started...casting for smallies back at the day one spot. We didn't fish long, just one relatively quick and dirty walk through the area. We were nearly out of flies, down to some pretty hefty tippet and both of us were thinking of our kids and wives (wiser). The fish were there still, and we caught them. Pretty simple really.









It was quite a drive back to our families, but Wendy and I have known each other a long time and the hours tend to move quickly amongst friends. We had a lot to reminisce about, and recounted take after take and fish after fish, but mostly we spoke of families and life. Fishing trips are about so much more than fishing, a fact we are both acutely aware of but make no effort to acknowledge. Sometimes it is best to just be, and just do, and let things settle. Lake MI 2.0 was the perfect mix of this for us. We crested at an impossible high and slowly came down and unwound on day four...and speaking for myself I got what I needed from this trip, just don't ask me to define what that was.

Thanks again to Wendy for sticking with me all these years and making these crazy adventures so memorable. Couldn't ask for a better guy to fish with. Most of all though, thanks to our families...giving up so much time for something you don't fully understand is an amazing thing to do, and I can't thank you enough.

So how do we top this one Wendy?

Lake MI day three

Exhausted and exhilarated...but ready for more, we fueled up on some good grub at the end of day two. We both had a whitefish rueben (with coleslaw instead of sauerkraut) and as we chowed down we lamented the state of our fly boxes. Simply put, we didn't have enough of the "right" offerings. Sure, we had caught fish on a variety of our normal stuff, with the legion of doom, soft hackle and even my first Carp (of several) on the venerable backstabber by Jay Zimmerman making an appearance...but what we wanted to fish was big, rabbit fur flies. We wanted the chase. Thankfully, Wendy came prepared and after dinner he whipped up a bundle of squirrel strip flies that would prove irresistible to these great lakes carp. With a fresh batch of flies and a forecast of full on sun...we had high hopes for day three.

And we were not disappointed.

















We took it to the carp. It was an absolute clinic. Some days you feel like you have the game figured out. Some days you just know that your next shot (or three or ten) are flat out going in the basket. Some days, you are basically unstoppable. Any athlete has felt it...we were in the zone.












The fish were cruising down the shallow flats, eagerly casting from side to side, and we were on 'em. Our casts were accurate and the fish were cooperative. We scaled a bundle of fish in the 16-19 lb range, and saw so many cool takes that I really can't remember many individual eats. There were a lot of eats.












Many doubles. We fished our first stop for the bulk of the day...it was simply too good to leave. Every time we thought about walking out of there another dark shape would appear on the edge of our vision and we would slip right back into hunting mode. I hooked a massive fish on the deep edge in 6 ft of crystal clear water. After a long battle (easy 45 minutes...just kidding) I towed the fish toward the net and as it turned for one last mini run Wendy and I knew we were in trouble. One slap of the tail against the roughed up leader and that fish was gone. In retrospect...likely a 30 lber.












Eventually, we left that magical flat...and found more magic. As Wendy said...we pounded on tailing carp until we flat out couldn't see anymore. I actually started blind casting for smallmouth just to change things up...and I caught three nice smallies in minutes. Sick, sick fishing. Oh...and Wendy stuck a 23 lb beast.












The fish were everywhere, and as the sun got low and visibility got worse, we saw a lot of this.






That'd be probably 40 carp swimming for safer waters. Being within casting distance of Wendy and I on this day equaled not safe.






We trudged back to the car in semi darkness...many, many fish were hooked. Many, many flies were mauled. All four of our legs were tired, and all four of our arms were exhausted. Catching that many carp is a workout. Our bodies were busted...our gear destroyed. We had no leaders left...just cobbled together bits of tippet, most of them frayed and ugly. Our flies looked like they had been puked up by a cat and both of our reels were wheezing like old men after a long walk. Even our boots had seen better days.






Yes...that is duck tape.

It was awesome. Lake MI...I thank you.

Lake MI day two

Despite the relative smallmouth slaughter toward the end of day one, we left the cheap hotel the next morning with only one thought on our minds. Carp. Well...and coffee. After fueling up we hit the lake, talking as we walked a short trail to the water...it went something like this.

Me: this overcast is going to kill us.

Wendy: might be tough to know if they are there.

Me: I am just praying we step into the water and spook some fish, just so we know they are there.

We step into the water ten seconds later and a carp spooks from about three feet away. Thirty seconds after that I spot one and plop a big, black, goby looking fly in front of it. First lake MI carp for me.



After that the day took on the tone we had expected for the trip. During the planning stages we talked about and hoped to hit the tail end of the spawn. We figured it would be easier to find the fish this way, and we would be able to fish the edges for feeding fish. It came together for most of the day just like that on this flat. The spawners were easy to see, so we poked slowly along the edges and stuck plenty of fish.






Then we stuck our noses through a tiny little opening in a closed off bay to peek at the main lake. What we saw was incredible.


It certainly helped that we caught our first real sun at the exact moment we stepped into this setting, but the real stunner was the piles of cruising and marauding fish that patrolled the shoreline. Wendy hooked up in seconds.






We split up and each proceeded to lay the smack down on the fish, with crazy aggressive takes...stuff we just hadn't seen on the Big C out west.






Eventually we left that flat relatively sated and feeling good. We hoofed around, mostly walking and spotting the occasional fish...but honestly, we were done. We considered the day a wild success and with smiles on our faces we headed to the car.

The problem? One last cast syndrome. The minute our boots were on dry land we started wanting more...thinking not about the last take...but the next take. So we gave in, and rushed to one more spot as the sun was still visible.









One last cast turned into another...and another and another. In the fading light we reminded ourselves that good things happen when your boots are wet.

Elia, JJ, and 44 lbs of carp

Check out this bad boy that JJ duked it out with today.



That'd be 23 lbs of carp. When i handed that rod to JJ I figured I would never know how big the fish was, but he got it done.

Slipped out with the kids today, with a plan involving rocky bottoms and the hunt for crayfish...unfortunately the water is still really high (though not fishing from sunken picnic tables high) so we couldn't find any rocks to flip over. We did run into the above bad girl who munched the little green soft hackle in a heartbeat. I played the fish for a few minutes before handing her fate over to a 4 year old. We also caught this monster just a few minutes before JJ's game of tug of war.




21 lbs on the nose, though neither kid got a shot at this one...this fish was just too hot. Elia got in on the action with a standard 11 lb male, and JJ got to do his favorite part of fishing...he eyeballs that net like there are cookies in it.




Nice assist JJ!

Will get some more lake MI pictures up this week, but any day you can take two fish totaling 44 lbs (plus an 11 lber) with your kids involved is indeed a great day!

The release of the 23 lber...

Us carp fisherman need to stick together...with that in mind, take a moment to donate to the Denver Trout Unlimited Carp Slam!  Drop a few dollars on the competitor of choice...For the record, I had to back McTage with my donation this year...sorry MG but the "Mctage method" of catching smallmouth on the fly must have brought at least a dozen nice smallies to hand for Wendy Berrell and I on Lake MI.  That kind of priceless info tipped the scales.

And how do I get one of those cool shirts? 

Smallmouth on the Fly

I admit it...as I lay in bed not sleeping (I don't sleep well in hotels) at the end of day one I briefly considered changing the name of the blog to Smallmouth on the Fly. Yes, I was that enamored with our day one encounter with these bulldog like fish. I had caught smallies before, but never as many large fish in such a unique setting. And you have to admit, they are beautiful fish.



Mostly though, that evening's wild smallmouth bite was like throwing a drowning man a life preserver. Wendy and I drove to the flats absolutely BRIMMING with confidence. Armed with last years experience and a sudden and gracious nod from a local who pinpointed places he had seen carp only days before our arrival, we knew we would find the fish. And we did, but as many have said before, you cannot underestimate the importance of direct sunlight when fly fishing for carp. And we had no sun (I cheated, the first pic is from the last day...sue me.)



That would be our windshield wipers in full on frantic mode. I took that pic as the day ended, but it threatened all day. Still, we saw carp. We walked an amazing flat and saw good numbers of fish but 99 percent were onto us...Wendy Berrell, consummate pro that he is stuck the one carp that didn't know we were there (plus a nice smallmouth blind casting to a dock). So we walked, and drove, and looked and toward the end of the day it had begun to feel like our last trip...a lot of walking and looking. But then it happened.












We slipped around a sharp point, zero visibility and both of our thoughts drifting towards calling it and leaving to go watch the NBA draft (honestly, I think we both were waiting for the other guy to throw in the towel first) when I kicked up a smallie right at my feet. I threw a long cast down the bank and blindly stripped the fly back...whack! Fish on...as legendary OR gear angler Ex-Bass Guide would say as soon as releasing the fish..."nice long cast, retrieve...and whack!" Another smallie on the fly.



For the next couple of hours, under an increasingly dark and dreary sky we absolutely hammered the smallmouth bass. Most were in the 15 inch range but at least 6 or 7 were 17 inches or better. When the shadows were right we could actually see the fish and cast right to them, but many were caught on blind casts. We stripped the flies fast, we stripped them slow, we stopped and started and sometimes we just let the flies sit and would pick up the fish when the line moved. The water was full of bass, and they liked our flies.





Bass are fun, especially in such numbers. They don't run and are not as big or powerful as carp, but they bulldog, deep, tug hard and occasionally leap like a rainbow. We had a blast wailing away like tourney pros, hooting and hollering and rejoicing at finding some great fishing on lake MI.


I laid there that night and thought about dropping the carp thing for the next day...we spent some time talking about it. The forecast remained bleak for sun loving carp fisherman, and the bass were fun. And easy. No doubt in my mind we could have kept fishing for bass and slayed them for four days. But then I thought about those huge gravel flats, and big, dark shapes cruising. I though about large, meaty flies and long, blistering runs into my backing. When I woke up, it was raining. We hustled to the car through the rain, glaring at the dark sky and with barely a word drove north to explore a well known carp flat. Once again we were brimming with confidence despite a dark and rainy sky...bass were forgotten (or at least put aside) and we were back on the hunt for carp.

And this time, it paid off.