I'd Blog...

But I'm exhausted. Been grading papers or prepping almost nonstop for the last two weeks, due to major assignments from several classes coming in simultaneously and some household issues that interfered with my making more progress. Oh yeah, and other work piled up as I worked through earlier piles.

Well...I wasn't tied to my desk the whole time. I did make it out to the shotgun range Saturday and yesterday. All I can say is it's going to take me a while to adapt to the new fowling piece.

I don't have a thought in my head worth broadcasting to the web at this moment. (Others might define that time span differently, I'm sure). All I know is I have a hunting/fishing trip lined up for this weekend.

And if that's to remain a reality, I need to get back to work.

Say Hello to My (Not So) Little Friend

Reports of increasing grouse populations around the state finally got to me. I have rearmed.

Last winter, my trusty--scratch that. My little used but long neglected 1980 Montgomery Ward pump shotgun suffered a series of malfunctions, each of which prompted a trip to the gunsmith. Eventually I decided it wasn't worth putting more money into, and that it was time to proceed with my plan to acquire a new gun. Unfortunately, I can't yet afford the kind gun I want, some nice Spanish or Italian side-by-side double. I looked at used guns, but found many quality guns--autos as well as doubles--selling for the high three or low four figures, when in good condition. Not exorbitant as shotguns go, but more than I could part with at the moment. (Hmmm...I guess I could have foregone fishing trips last summer...but you can guess how likely I would have been to keep that resolution. It would be hard stifling a long held passion for a budding one.) So I decided to sit out grouse hunting this year and do more autumn fishing.

And I will be doing more autumn fishing, but those trout trips I'd planned are going to be grouse-and-trout trips. Cast and blast.

This didn't come about because a chunk of money fell in my lap. Though I had resigned myself to a leadless fall, I never really stopped shopping for guns. I drive by the Cabelas in Dundee, MI two or three times a week, and occasionally I'd stop in to fondle the used shotguns, or even brave the crowds at the new gun counter and ask to hold some of the less expensive doubles. Last tuesday, I had to pick up something for my wife from a store near one of the big malls in Toledo, and on the way there, it occured to me to stop by the Dick's Sporting Goods by the mall. If I remembered right, they had some good deals on guns early in the fall last year. I picked up a sale flyer in the breezeway of the store and saw they had some this year as well. So it was upstairs to the small gun department, where I asked to see some of the low cost (Stoeger) doubles advertised. Some say these are suitable only for scrap metal, others swear they're the best value in the shooting world. I tend to agree with the former. You could shove the point of a pen into the crevice between the wood and metal, and for some reason I couldn't get a comfortable grip on the stock. I could have shouldered a plumber's wrench more easily.

Giving up on hopes of getting an affordable side-by-side, I asked to see a Remington 870 Express pump gun offered for $239 (which was about $100 dollars less than the ungainly Stoegers). I picked it up and while it was a bit short (as all off the rack shotguns are on me), it felt comfortable in my hands and I could shoulder it smoothly. It was far better made that the Stoegers, and unlike my old gun, its pump arm didn't jiggle when I lifted it, and I heard no mysterious rattlings as I handled it.

The Express is the entry level model 870, basically identical to the pricier Wingmaster grade, but with a matte finish and a slightly rougher action due to less finely machined parts. Yet they're respected among shooters and, while they won't win any beauty contests, have a reputation for being reliable and durable. Just what I need while I continue to save for that AyA.

So I will return to the uplands this autum to give the grouse and woodcock a few good laughs. In a little more than a week.

My problem now is, how does one dispose of a defunct firearm?

Cleanin' and Mousin'

The days since Kristine and I returned from Grayling have been pretty busy, so I couldn't get this up sooner. Still, it seems like we just left. The experience is fresh in mind, even though it's stale news, in a way.

We had a great time at the cleanup, as always. I'm glad to do something for the rivers, but the cleanups are a lot of fun, too. When the cleaners assemble in the morning people at Gates' Lodge, the scene resembles a family renunion. People greet others they haven't seen for a while and catch up, and conversations about fishing, the weather, past cleanups, or the upcoming bird season arise between strangers, and dogs bark and play-fight all around the lawn. Kristine and I didn't know anyone else there, but I at least had the feeling of being among friends.

And a lot of friends at that. The crowd at this year's cleanup was the largest ever, about 130 if I heard right.

At 10:00, Rusty Gates, the lodge owner and instigator of this even, halts the sprawling bull session to welcome everone, organize the group photo, and send us cleaners on our way. Small teams are assigned to stretches throughout the three branches of the Au Sable. This year, Kristine and I drew the uppermost reach of the fly-only water on the South Branch, the section from Chase Bridge to the Forest Rest access. I worked with a team that cleaned that stretch about four years ago and each person on that team filled at least two bags with trash. This year, Kristine and I only collected about half a bag apiece, and I don't think anyone else on our team found much more.



Afterward, everyone returns to the lodge for burgers and brats, sweet corn, and beer. Also a generous spread of homemade cookies. Kristine and I enjoyed a few more of those than we should have. I wasn't hungry the rest of the night.

But I didn't sit in a chair waiting for lunch to settle. Around nightfall, I drove to a favorite access on the AuSable mainstream to fish the rodent hatch--that is, tossing large, deer-hair replications of mice toward the bank and the edges of cover to entice big brown trout. This is a late summer tactic, and soon will cease producing, but it did the job last Saturday. Between about 9:10 and 9:45 I landed 4 12-15" browns and had about ten other swipes. Then the bite shut down, aside from one strike (from a fish that sounded like it probably couldn't get the hook in its mouth) around 10:30. Didn't tangle with any of the toads you hope for when you fish mammal patterns in the dark, but I still can't think of many better ways to pass a Saturday night in almost-mid-September.

Make-Up Session

Summer's imminent passing drives home the realization that I didn't fish much this summer. Some of the reasons for that I can't articulate all that well, and I'm not going to waste my energy trying to. I've made up my mind to have my best fall season ever. Or at least, my most active one. I'm making at least two trips north for trouting, and I think a Cloud Creek outing should be on the agenda too. Maybe a day trip to the Rifle river. I'm sidelined from hunting this year--my gun is broke and unfortunately I am as well--why not take some precious fall days to hit the river? I've got a lot of time to make up.

I'm getting a jump start this weekend. Kristine and I will head to Grayling for the annual Au Sable cleanup sponsored by Gates Lodge. She and I will join a team cleaning downstream from Chase Bridge. I have a feeling we'll be busy. Saturday night I'll take to the river, hoping to see trout sucking down some bwo's or caddis.

Even now I can almost feel the river brushing my calves.

Stories and pics next week.

New Patient

After a summer of varied discomforts and several rounds of poking, prodding, and bloodletting, I have my diagnosis, sort of. It appears I have a mild case of colitis. "Appears" because the Doc can't yet rule out Crohn's disease. I'll have another test Monday to determine whether this is or isn't Crohn's. (Please God no!)

In either event, what I have is, as I said, mild so far, and very treatable. Treatment means taking three pills a day for the rest of my life. Now granted, this is far from the worst regimen one could submit to, and I do have the insurance to cover the pills. Some people with Inflammatory Bowel Diseases suffer far more than I have or, hopefully, will. Still, I feel like something about my life has changed dramatically.

I've always been a healthy person--probably a lot healthier than I ought to be considering some excesses of my early years. Never been hospitalized overnight, never suffered from a chronic (physical) condition, never had any significant trauma. My blood pressure, pulse, and lipid profile have always been exemplary. I've never been overweight, and have always exercised somewhat regularly. Now, while I'm hardly at death's door, I will have this to contend with as long as I live. I will always be an IBD patient. Until now, illness was always transient.

In researching colitis on the web, I noticed that on discussion boards for IBD sufferers, posters often include in their signatures their condition, date of diagnosis, time in remission, if applicable, and the treatments they use or have used. That suggests to me that most of the time their illness hovers near the front of their minds. I am hoping I never reach that point. I don't want my condition to become a pillar of my identity.

Provided things don't get much worse, that probably won't happen. But popping my daily dose of antiinflamatories will remind me that it could. I will live under the shadow of illness. That will hardly change the outward parts of my life, but it will add a new and lingering unease to an innner life that decidedly has enough.

I live now on different terms than I did for most of my life. But I will adjust. After all, I can still fish.