#62 Betsie River, Michigan

#61 Swan Creek, Michigan

Swan Creek was to be my swan song. A chance to go out in a blaze of glory, or at least with a picture of me smiling with a fish in hand.  Any fish. Any size.  To be truthful this is a lie.  What I would really like is a trophy, but would settle for a "nice" fish.  It seems to me that, although my quest was to fish 60 rivers with no accounting for the catching, or lack thereof, I should at least require that my last river produce a fish, if only a bait fish.   And so I tied on a likely looking streamer and walked back into the Allegan State Forest along a nicely tended trail following Swan Creek.  This is a small clear stream with adequate flow leading to hope that I could site a few migrating fish.   But after a good half mile and a few hopeless casts it became all too obvious that my efforts were in vain.  It was time to pack up and head home.  My quest was over.  My desire was not.  I have another 13 days to put a fish on the end of my last cast.

Note: Several readers have asked if Steelhead are able to migrate up Swan Creek.  I went back to Jim Bedford's book and he did not refer to a migratory fishery, although the stream is open all year.  Looking at the map I do not see an obstruction up to the dam at 118th Ave, but there could very well be a blockage somewhere downstream.  A week earlier I had a report of Steelhead being caught in a small tributary of the Kalamazoo River below Allegan in the State Game Area.  I assumed it was Swan Creek, because neither Sand Creek nor Bear Creek are open.   Also, its blue designation in the regulations leads me to believe that steelhead and salmon run the creek or some portion of it. 

#60 Kalamazoo River, Michigan

As I drove down Dam Road toward river number sixty it occurred to me how unprepared I was for the occasion.  No one to celebrate with.  No bottle of champagne.  Not even a beer and a bag of nuts.  The river itself seemed an odd choice, if for no other reason than its name.  A warm water fishery save for the planting of migrating fish by the DNR.  

I pulled in alongside another car and surveyed the site.  One lone fisher on the break wall looked to be walleye fishing, and one boat load of fishers anchored in the center of the river busy casting plugs.  Body language said it all.  Fishing was not good.  I walked over to the walleye fisherman who had one small marble eyes in his bucket.  It had been a slow day, and no, the boaters had not landed any fish.  After boasting of taking a six pound walleye a few days earlier he shrugged and said the steelhead fishing was even slower, then turned his attention back to a lifeless line.  I walked back to the car and suited up.  I imagine this is a busy spot in springtime when the big lake rainbows are running strong.  But not in December.  At least I wouldn't be standing elbow to elbow on my last river.   I had hoped that my last cast on the last river would produce a keeper I could take home for dinner, and that I would fish until that happened.  My only catch was bottom.  With a few hours left I decided to make it a fisher's sixty, and try my luck at Swan Creek. 

Access: Dam Road off M40 near Allegan

Weather: Sunny, mid 30s

#59 Rabbit River, Michigan

After an unseasonably cold and snowy few weeks the weather finally moderated with a sunny day in the mid 30s.  I had planned to fish the Rifle from a guided drift boat, but water levels were low and the river iced over in the lower reaches.  So I rescheduled for April and turned my attention to fishing the Betsie and possibly the Platte rivers.  But a call to Mark Andres was more bad news, with reports of low flow and no fish. So I decided to head south to the Kalamazoo River.  My first stop was Rabbit River, a tributary of the Kalamazoo, which crosses M40 just east of Hamilton, a small town midway between Holland and Allegan.  A small park on the north side of the highway provides easy access below the low head dam.  There was one fisherman at the river when I arrived, but as I made ready he headed toward his car mumbling profanities about his cell phone.  I assumed that he was either at work and the river had gotten in the way or the call was from his wife.  Either way he was most distressed at being called off the river.  I managed to get a few pointers at negotiating the current and avoiding the holes before he drove off.  He had not seen any fish jumping the fish ladder in the short time he was there, which was not a good sign.  He claimed it is not uncommon to count over a hundred steelies climbing the rock ladder in just a few minutes time, but not today.  I gave it a good college try without success, deciding to move on to the Kalamazoo River below the dam west of Allegan, stopping first at the Eagle Nest cafe for lunch.

#58 Prairie Creek, Michigan

#57 Boyne River, Michigan

Eric and I took a few hours to fish the Boyne River this morning below the dam at Boyne Falls. We awoke to find the ground covered with a dusting of snow and a damp chill in the air. As is often the case near Lake Michigan, the softwoods still held their golden leaves late in the season. The fresh white snow against the backdrop of the softwoods and cedars was beautiful in spite of the cold. We had the river to ourselves which made the experience even better. A few weeks back I drove by the bridge on Dam Road and didn't bother stopping as there must have been 20 cars with fisherman lined up along the banks on both sides. The river was still full of salmon which looked to be in their final days, but there were also some smaller fish in the deep holes, probably early steelhead. We walked along the river up to the dam, casting to the holding fish. Fortunately, we did not foul hook the salmon, but neither did we interest the trout. I think given more time this could have been a productive outing. The weather felt like steelhead weather - cool, overcast, and drizzling.

#56 Flat River, Michigan

View of the Flat looking north upriver from McPhearson Bridge. A cool sunny day produced no action other than a late afternoon hatch the fish didn't notice. A good thing because I was unprepared for surface fishing.

More signs along the way...

#55 Kennebec River, Maine

Leaving New Hampshire a day early gave us an extra day in Maine, which we put to good use by heading north to Freeport to check out the L.L. Bean store and then to Bar Harbor by way of Bangor. Unfortunately, it was dusk by the time we reached Mount Desert Island, Acadia National Part, and the familiar BAH HA BAH. We had a great dinner followed by a very long trip back to Portland. While at Bean's I inquired about river fishing. The staff suggested I stop at the Fly Fishing Only shop in Fairfield on our way north and talk to Mike Holt, the store owner. This turned out to be good advise as Mike was very helpful, including giving Margie and I a friend's personal guide to Bar Harbor. He suggested fishing the Kennebec below the Shawmut dam upstream from Fairfield a few miles, providing a detailed map of where to fish. He suggested carrying blue winged olives and a shad imitation streamer. The next morning was our last day in Maine so Margie and I went over to the UPS store after breakfast to send home a few boxes of purchased goodies, afterwhich I dropped her off in town and headed back up to Fairfield for my last river of the trip. Mike had told me the river was wide but I wasn't prepared for the 200+ yards to the opposite side, which was where he suggested I fish. He said that the first 20 yards or so was chest deep but after that it was just 3' deep to the other side where a series of three holes near a large white bolder usually held fish. Without his council I would certainly not have ventured across such big unfamiliar water. Only the occasional Olive appeared on the surface so I spent most of my time streamer fishing. I had several fish show, but no takers. When the urge to pee struck, which unlike fishing never lets me down, I was faced with prospect of a long wade back. The opposite bank, which was now quite close, looked easier but as I eased over that way I was soon chest deep in fast water. So I fished my way back, deciding to return with a nymph rig. The three holes I had been fishing were not very deep and I had already seen fish. As I got out of the water another fisher was walking back up to the parkway. He had been fishing the island downstream which Mike had mentioned and had only caught one small trout on a streamer. "If you have to use streamers in this river you might as well go home", he said. I waded back across rigged with a two nymph set, a #16 beadhead up front with a trailing #18 pheasent tail. As I passed the big boulder I pulled off some line, anticipating a long drift. My experience nymphing the Colorado came to mind. I could hear Terry Gunn's instruction echoing off the walls of Glen Canyon, "It's the first few seconds following the cast that sets up the perfect dead drift, and without a perfect drift there is no strike." I made a long cast against the crossing current into the headwater of the hole, making a long reaching mend, and then another, followed by a quick series of rod whips to let out line. The drift looked good. I kept pealing off line. And then the strike indicator submerged. Not fast, just slow and deliberate. I raised the rod and pulled in the slack. And to my surprise, I had a fish on. It is always surprising since most of the time the exact same response is nothing but bottom. The chunky rainbow put up a good fight in the swift Kennebec current. In the fifteen minutes I had left to fish, my skills were not nearly so well executed, nor lucky. But I felt good about the success, and the progress I've made this year learning to fish these small little subsurface bugs. Wading back I vowed to switch techniques sooner next time. It was a pleasent sunny day and a great way to end a fabulous vacation.

#54 Ottauquechee River, Vermont

#53 Saxton River, Vermont

#52 Battenkill River, Vermont

#51 Moss Glen Brook, Vermont

After arriving the day before in Burlington, our vacation began with a day trip into the Green Mountains following highway 15 north to Jeffersonville where we stopped for coffee before heading up to Smugglers Notch en route to Stowe, our destination. Along the way we stopped at Green Mountain Troutfitters to buy a license and talk rivers, paying my dues before fishing the storied Vermont rivers. The advise might as well come from the Orvis shop in Grand Rapids this time of year. "Most of the major hatches are over, so be sure to have some foul weather Blue-Winged Olives handy along with the usual pheasant tail nymphs and streamers." We headed south on highway 108 along Brewster River, a tributary of the Lamoille River rushing down the mountainside begging to be fished. I was in luck, trout season was still open in Vermont and there seemed to be plenty of rivers with easy access.

To our surprise we were alone on our drive through the notch. There were a few cars parked at the top at the hiking turnouts, but that was it. The leaf peepers had come and gone, and we were left with peak viewing owing to the late color brought on by an unseasonably warm fall.

I have few regrets on this trip, but two of them occurred on this outing. It was a beautiful clear sunny day and we should have stopped at the summit to explore the footpaths to the 1,000 foot cliffs and scenic views. The other regret is that we didn't make it to the top of Moss Glen Falls. I had noticed the falls labeled on our map and inquired in Stowe about directions. After wondering around town for a few hours having lunch and doing some shopping, we decided to head up to the falls, just 3 miles north of town. I didn't go there with the intention of fishing, but upon arrival at the turnout two teenagers with fly rods came walking down the road away from the brook. They said the stream was full of little brook trout which were a lot of fun to catch. That was all I needed to hear, so Margie patiently waited while I unpacked my rod. This is a small stream about the size of Honey Creek, but it makes a very dramatic 125' fall into a narrow confined gorge, one of the largest drops in the state. I tried casting a small streamer into a few pools below the falls to no avail. We hiked up the falls to about the midpoint to sit and admire the cascade along with another couple, but this was as far as Margie wanted to go, height challenged as she is. So we headed back down to the car. As we were packing up another hiker pulled in, a local regular. He said the best fishing was on top. There is a big swimming hole just before the falls that holds brook trout, and further upstream there is a big beaver dam which looks interesting but he hasn't tried it yet. Perhaps I can give it a shot another day. We headed back to Burlington, stopping at Ben & Jerry's for a cone and a look at an interesting collection of old ice cream scoops. Getting a river in on the first day was a good start.

For more information on Smugglers Notch State Park and Moss Glen Falls:
http://www.vtstateparks.com/htm/smugglers.cfm and http://www.northeastwaterfalls.com/waterfall.php?num=253&p=0

Weather: Sunny, mid-fifties
Access: Moss Glen Falls Road (off of Randolph Rd)

#50 White River, Michigan

The fish are neither spooked nor interested, and cast after cast produces nothing but a wide swath in the school. I think of seasons past, and it is just as I remember - the salmon run as a moveable feast, my fishing as a moveable famine.

Ted Leeson, The Habit of Rivers

Off to Hesperia this morning to try White River below the dam. Only a few fishers when I got there. Walked up to the dam just in time to witness a guy land what looked from a distance like a steelhead of all things. It would be his last, our last. I took my place downstream a bit amid a great many fish coming and going. A few redds were busy. I float a two fly rig with yarn indicator down through the obvious runs, using the long drift technique I learned on the Colorado. The current is slow and a drift lasts a good minute, with another minute or so taken to retrieve and recast. Let's see, that would be about 30 casts per hour not including the frequent broken cast, or about a hundred casts by lunch. No takers. At least my new fishing vest proved a good purchase. A couple, I surmised a husband and wife, sat close together on a nearby picnic table, staring down the river at nothing in particular, perhaps killing time. On returning from lunch at Angelo's and Riccardo's Pub, one of the fishers was changing gear at his car. He began to speak and I looked around to see if the conversation was intended for me, though know one else was near. "We should be thankful, appreciate the day." I agreed, assuming he was referring to the seventy degree blue sky day. "Did you notice the couple sitting on the picnic table?" I told him I had. "Well, I stopped to talk with them. He has eight months to live. Learned about it just this morning. Cancer." I looked over to the now vacant table and then back to the fisher who was already walking down to the riverbank. He needed desperately to tell someone, say something, anything, and I was the first to come along. I packed up and drove to a new access at the end of 198th south of town. My own private beat. An unfair hooked Chinook broke me off. Appropriate I thought. The day had lost its luster.

#49 Cedar Creek, Michigan

After a brief stint on the Rogue, Brian showed me the way to Cedar Creek to try a seldom fished stretch behind his folks' old house off Algoma Road. I had heard reports of 14" Brookies being caught there, and to look at the stream I can see why it could hold decent fish. Although small, there are some nice holes. It is marginal for fly fishing, but I gave it my best shot as nightfall rapidly approached. At one point I managed to fall while stepping down into a grassy marsh next to the creek, tossing my glasses into the muck and reeds. We were lucky to find the spectacles, but not so lucky finding fish and Brian was getting antsy as his guiding skills were on the line. My last cast produced the sandwich size Brown pictured above taken on a small streamer. Relieved, Brian escorted me out through the darkness.

#48 Rogue River, Michigan

Brian Merdzinski took me to his favorite spot on the Rogue behind the old Paper Mill. Driving along Childsdale Ave we saw numerous cars at the various turnoffs along the way. A not so pleasant reminder that big fish bring out the crowds, especially near big cities. Stepping into the river, I was also reminded of just how much I dislike the Rogue, owing mostly to a canoe trip I made as a teenager with my fishing pal Eric VanderVeen. We floated down the upper river, through the tangled swamps and dozens of portages, on an excursion we thought would be trout friendly. It was not.

The allure of salmon fishing is mystifying. I have done more of it this year. Fair hooking a fresh fish is a challenge with the reward of an uncommon battle in a shallow river. But all too often the fish is foul hooked. Snagged to be more precise. For that matter, when the fish are in thick, I suspect a good many fair hooked fish are really fair snagged. Granted, there are times when a spawning non-feeding salmon will attack a streamer or move over to engulf a drifted nymph. But those instances are few and far between. For a fifteen minute period during a rain storm on the Garden a few weeks ago, after ignoring our offerings for two days, the Chinooks suddenly started chasing every cast. Thinking of my recent trip to the beautiful valley of the Garden, I make a few halfhearted casts into the dark, slightly rank water of the Rogue. We do not see any holding fish. It occurs to me that I am a trout fisherman at heart. And this is no trout stream, in spite of TU's best efforts and the DNR annual stocking.

#47 Fish Creek, Michigan

#46 Stoney Creek, Michigan

When I arrived at the crossing on M21 east of Ionia there were two cars at the turnoff. One had a shifty looking lad inside, the other empty. This gave me pause and became a nagging worry on an otherwise beautiful sunny Sunday morning. After parking the car as close to the road as possible, I readied myself for a wade up unfamiliar Stoney Creek. I had scouted the river early in the season and was glad to be back after spending all summer putting it off. Aptly named, and unlike the muddy Maple that flows nearby, this creek is fast and clear over a solid cobblestone base. It also holds a good population of eager panfish size smallmouth bass. The staghorn sumac and Joe-Pye Weed proudly displayed fall colors. Elm leaves floated intermitently down to the river, all too often finding the hook of my streamer. A hint of things to come on this unseasonably warm September day. When I got back the other cars were gone. Try as I might, I will never get over wanting a stream all to myself. Off to Fish Creek north of here near Carson City.



















At first I was disorganized. Now I keep things exactly where I left them. Paying special attention to case rods and stow reels in that expensive Orvis reel bag.

#45 Thornapple River, Michigan

Looking upstream toward Thornapple River Drive. Casted streamers to what looked like spawning suckers. No salmon visible. Got some good practice roll casting. River is difficult to wade and not as pleasant as this photo.
"Bill- Don't forget that most Michigan rivers close to fishing at the end of September."

This little missive from Jon Damon popped up in my mailbox last night. It is true that I have 15 rivers left to fish, and yes it is also true that trout season ends in just eight days and with it most river fishing. I still have options. Most salmon rivers remain open, and there are a few stretches of river open for catch-and-release year around. I hear that November trout fishing in Tennessee is awesome. But I will admit to being a bit lackadaisical the last few weeks and trout closer is creeping up faster than I thought. So thanks to Jon's prodding, I've decided to get to 55 rivers by October 15 (we leave for Vermont on the 16th).

Lower Michigan - 11 of 13 rivers

Stoney Creek, Fish Creek, Flat River, Rogue River, Cedar Creek, White River, Sable River, Pentwater River, Betsie River, Platte River, Boyne River, Black River, and Rifle River.

Upper Michigan - lots of rivers but little time

Vermont - 2 rivers (Battenkill + one)

Maine - 1 river

River # 60?

Pere Marquette River revisited....

Jon Damon fighting the fish shown below. Too bad the camera was set on close-up mode.


The happy angler showing off.

#44 Bear Creek, Michigan

Thanks Jon. Now being an attorney and all I assume you wouldn't mind drafting up say 16 more of these. I would be happy to provide the list of rivers and you could just sort of fill in the blanks with various embellishments.

Click on image above to enlarge.

#43 Garden River, Ontario

Pink Salmon Hen

Guide Chuck Hawkins, Tom Whalen, and me.

A Pinook (cross between a Pink & Chinook Salmon). No, I am not squeezing the tail so hard the back inflated.

A male Pink salmon.

Tom Whalen about to land another.

The view from High Dump - the Indian name for the cliff where logs where rolled down to the river far below.

St. Marys River revisited...

Tom Whalen and I hired guide John Guiliani to show us the ropes (or I should say rocks) fishing the St. Marys rapids on the Canadian side of the river. I should count this another river in my quest even though I fished the St. Marys in June. The rapids is nothing like the outflow below the power plant and the approach to catching the Atlantic salmon entirely different. Each time I cross the bridge into Canada I wonder about the fishing below. From the bridge the river looks almost too shallow to fish, but there is always one or two fisherman down there casting away. We parked in a public lot in front of the old post office building at the Canadian locks, crossed the catwalk and headed down a well warn path to the access point just downstream from the bridge. The river here is divided by a cement wall running the length of the rapids. We crossed the swift but shallow water to the wall wading just above a series of 3 large boulders. Once on the wall we walked up to the dam which regulates Lake Superior flow into the river and the lower great lakes. I casted crank baits while Tom floated spawn. When this failed to produce, John walked us down the wall to the first hole where we both floated spawn down through the swift current. We had a strong east wind so John advised against fly fishing, opting to use a spinning rod rigged with a hard rubber "bottom bouncer" and 4' of leader to fresh spawn bags. The rubber ball weight is preferred to the classic dangling lead because the bolder bottomed river is notorious for hang-ups. We each managed to momentarily hook up with a fighting Atlantic but not long enough to enjoy the effort. Tom landed a small rainbow. The Atlantic's were occasionally jumping all around us but the east wind had made them finicky. The holes can be fished from above or below, but John advises not to get seduced into walking too far out into the rapids. We fished 3 holes and although we didn't land a big Atlantic in fall colors like we had hoped, the experience was well worth the effort. We left thinking we could do this on our own and will certainly do so the next time we pass this way. The pink salmon run should be in full force when we come up in September to fish the Garden River. John says a good day can produce dozens of Pink Salmon on the fly rod. Discounting guide talk by half that still sounds like a fun day.

According to John a good fall trip would be to fish the St. Marys in the morning for pinks and then drive up to the Chippewa River to fish King Salmon in the afternoon.

Weather: Sunny, cool, strong east wind
Access: Canadian SOO locks

#42 Pancake River, Ontario

The Pancake was a big disappointment. The Ontario Blue-Ribbon Fly Fishing Guide calls it a "fly angling gem, offering steelhead in the spring, coho and pink salmon in fall, in a gin-clear, manageable and wadeable stream." We passed the river on our way north near its flow into Lake Superior's Pancake Bay. It looked slow and muddy. Not at all like the book's description. We assumed that conditions would improve upstream. Wrong. Apparently the river had experienced a blow out, perhaps from its Pancake Lake headwaters. After traveling a half mile back into the bush a washout prevented further travel. The flood had been so severe that a 10 foot culvert pipe had been washed fifty yards down the river bed along with a good section of the road. We fished briefly and Tom managed to catch a small brookie and that was it. We didn't have time to walk upriver to explore the better reaches. The closed road (two track)heads due north out of the Pancake Bay Provincial Park, working its way back to Route 17 following the Pancake River a good share of the way. A shortcut as the crow flies. We should try this on our way back from White River next trip.

#41 Montreal River, Ontario

Dam Site Lodge, Montreal River circa 1955 with Dad and big brother Mike showing off the day's catch.

Montreal River at Lake Superior 2007.

#40 Michipicoten River, Ontario

On the way back from White River we took a turn at Wawa and headed to Hawk Junction on the east end of Hawk Lake to check out the offerings at several fly-out services. At Hawk Air we met Mark who worked for the service but was an avid fly fisher. He suggested fishing the Michipocoten below the dam. He told us to head south down 17 from Wawa turning left on a road across from a yellow gas station just before the bridge which tracks the river up to the dam. He said the ideal time to fish was during low flow early in the morning when the river was easier to wade and very "fishable". We took his advise but unfortunately the gates were open and the river fast and deep. It reminded me of the swift current of the Aeshwig River on the Winisk system in northern Ontario. Tom had packed some sandwiches from leftovers at Shekak Lake, so we sat down at water's edge to finish them off and consider our next move. We decided to take out our spinning rods and try casting spinners. We had no luck, but clearly this would be a good bet at low flow with the fish concentrated in pools. There was an island downstream that Mark had referred to that looked good but wasn't even an option at high discharge. He mentioned that you had to be ready to skedaddle when the dam operators opened the gates because the flow increased very quickly. We spent an hour or so plying what few runs we could reach and then packed up and headed down to the Montreal.

Shekak Lake, Ontario

#39 Boardman River, Michigan

Aengus fishes the Web...

Check out Josi Etter's http://www.sketchandrelease.com/. Just send her a photo and some measurements and she will paint an original water color of your trophy, complete with fly, net, or whatever tickles your fancy.

The best trout photography in the wild I've ever seen can be viewed at http://www.fisheyeguyphotography.com/. Be sure to click on gallery one and page through the natives. Awesome photos.

#38 Tyler Creek, Michigan

Jon Damon and I fished up the Coldwater to its confluence with Tyler Creek and then followed the creek along its bermed banks (man made like the Coldwater) to the first good spot so that I could count the Tyler a "fished" river. Before I could climb down into the creek the thunderstorm that had been threatening since we started unloaded pouring rain with nearby lightening and hair raising thunder. We retreated down the backside of the berm to wait it out. After a good 20 minute soaking we went back to our task at hand, notching another river with a few casts up into a promising seam created by a protruding log. I was hopeful, recalling how Jerry Dennis wrote glowing reports of fantastic fishing during a storm. But the fish were not much impressed with my offering, or maybe storms brought in by easterly winds nauseate fish. Whatever the reason, we were drenched and eager to leave, and Jon was sure he knew a shortcut back to the car. I followed Jon a short distance back down the Coldwater when he took an abrupt right into the forest, proclaiming a two track was "right over here somewhere." Now any experienced fisher will tell you that it is risky business leaving a stream's edge with the certain knowledge that following it always leads to a bridge where you parked your car. Nevertheless, Jon was determined to rediscover a lost two-track, and who was I to question this Coldwater guru. After wandering around the woods in what appeared to be a state of confusion, Jon announced we had found the two-track. Looking down I was miffed, as the best I could discern was that we were standing on a seldom used game trail. Now I have personally witnessed parallel game trails that appear like boulevards or quite literally like two-tracks, but this was not one of them. Soon realizing this Jon took another abrupt right, heading out across a field with a new sense of urgency (pictured above). After wandering around the woods on the other side of the field Jon finally admitted defeat, deciding to head back to the river. Now I shouldn't have been amused by this, as anyone who knows Jon knows he has a nose for rivers. Since the river in question was plenty odorous he was soon back to the river and our path home. Always the optimist, Jon announced as we walked along the bank that we will have to fish this again "when the water is higher, the fish are biting, and the river doesn't stink like cow dung."