#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."