Accommodations

On my getaways over the last year or so, I've done some reflecting on where and how I sleep and eat when I'm traveling in pursuit of fish or game.

Twenty years ago, my approach was very basic: A three-man nylon tent, my usual kitchen cooking gear packed into tote bags, a twenty year old sleeping bag, a Coleman white gas stove, and a big plastic jug for water. How far I've come. Now, I have a four man nylon tent, dedicated camp cooking gear that I carry in a plastic tub, a different sleeping bag now almost twenty years old, a Coleman propane stove, and a big plastic jug for water.

The setup I had two decades ago was perfect for a new college graduate barely making 30K a year. It also befitted the poor graduate student I became a few years later, and, including the slight modifications mentioned above, served well for the visiting assistant professor I was shortly thereafter. During the years after my career swerved into the (rutted, roadblocked) academic lane I was aware that other men my age were beginning to earn enough money to guiltlessly book motel or cabin accommodations for their trips, and to eat in taverns, diners, and supper clubs every day they were up. These were the same guys who were driving Explorers and had an aresenal of a dozen or so fly rods, not to mention shirts designed specifically for fly fishing. (Some might have also been the guys with 30k in credit card debt, for all I know.) This didn't particularly bother me, but it did sometimes give the the impression that I was simply treading water in some ways.

These days our circumstances are slightly more comfortable. I have stayed in motels more often over the last few years, and can usually excuse a couple of restaurant meals over the course of a weekend (But I got off the river late! And gee, I can eat those canned goods for lunch at home next week!) But by and large, I still travel as I always have. And I'm in no rush to change that.

When I bunk at a motel, I miss sitting outside in the evening, maybe with a campfire, and lounging over coffee and whatever in the morning listening to the birds and watching chipmunks dashing from site to site. It's pretty tough to find a diner serving food as good, or as healthy, as what I can pull out of a can or boil bag from Trader Joe's, and if I get a notion to grill some burgers, they'll likely be better than any from the local tavern. Going to sleep in a tent with the forest sounds around me beats trying to sleep (emphasis on trying) in a saggy, creaky motel bed. (This is true even when it rains--see my last fishing report in May.)

The motels I stay at do tend to be older and not-so-well kept. Some smell of mold, smoke, dust, or things I can't identify and don't want to try. Some have showers I can barely fit into, with rust stains resembling graffitti tags. I may be plugging my ears against high-volume TV, revelry, or fornication in adjoining rooms. The power might go out or the heater might not start. And a "cheap" motel up north these days runs about $50 a night. I can remember staying at some of these places almost twenty years ago when they were $30 a night and in better repair. They might still be a good deal if they'd been maintained.

My continuing preference for camping solidified on a cast and blast trip to Ogemaw and Oscoda counties on the opening weekend of grouse season last fall. After ending my first day fishing the Au Sable below Mio, I headed toward a state forest campground to set up for the night but had second thoughts when the weather radio predicted overnight thunderstorms. Dark clouds blowing eastward gave this credence. I'd camped plenty in the rain before, but at that moment I thought, "why bother?" and headed to a motel in Mio which had seemed tolerable a few years ago. The price was ten dollars higher now, and the room had most of the shortcomings mentioned above, and more pronouncedly than on my last visit. In the morning I departed for the Rifle River Recreation Area, where I caught a few trout, missed a few grouse, and pitched my tent for the night--which would be a night I savored. Cool but clear, still, and scented with new-fallen leaves and distant campfires. When I lay down in my sleeping bag I felt soothed, almost welcomed. I often do my best sleeping on what some people curse as the "cold, hard ground."

My preference for minimalist camping has been put to the test during the last few days by plans for an upcoming trip. Next week I want to fish the hex hatch in the Grayling area, the river TBD after I get there and have a chance to look things over. Seeing as I have a lot of work on my plate this summer, I plan to make this a "work-play" trip, fishing nights and working during the days. To facilitate this, my initial plan was to get a room a motel I know is clean and comfortable for a few days. Expensive, but not impossibly so, and I would have electricity, wi-fi, a desk, and air conditioning. Not to mention a shower.

But then...I started to scheme how I could camp and still find a congenial work setting. The Grayling Public Library has electricity, wi-fi, desks, and air conditioning. For showers I could jump in the river, like I always do (as a supplement, of course, to washing my face and other presentable areas in camp). And then I over breakfasts I could gaze on the river while coffee steeped in my french press and granola softened to the perfect state of not-quite-mushiness; after fishing I could sip a beer at my campfire underneath the stars, then zip myself into the tent to lay down for the night with only a summer bedroll between me and the earth.

Sometimes, sitting at the picnic table on my state forest campground site, eating chili or or stew out of a tin bowl, I've asked myself if I would still be traveling like a boy scout when I was 60. The answer I have lately is, "God willing, yes."

Huron River, 6/15; Bears in them thar 'burbs!

Planned a run to Cloud Creek last night but hit a traffic jam on the way out of Ann Arbor that took nearly half an hour to clear. By that time rain was falling too and the radio advised thunderstorms were on the way. So I changed plans and went to the Huron.

I got on the river at Dexter-Huron metropark around 6:30, and I was the only soul around. The light rain would have driven off the picknickers and frisbee players, but I found it soothing. Though the river was on the high side, I could wade safely as long as I stayed within 40 feet of the bank. I saw light cahills and several kinds of caddis in good numbers but nothing was rising. Tried several olive, black, and brown streamers and had four brief hookups, but didn't bring anything to hand. The fish felt like they had some weight to them, too. All the hits came in spots where willow branches extended well over the water. Around 8:00 the rain began falling harder and I headed for the car.

I'm looking forward to many more nights on the Huron, but I am absolutely determined to make a Cloud Creek run, and preferably several, this year.




Oh, and having mentioned Dexter, I should note that confirmed sightings of a black bear have taken place there in the past week. Super cool, in my book. I think there are plenty of places just west of there where bears could find suitable feeding and hiding spots. Of course, some locals are worried, but the possibility of anyone being hurt by the animal (assuming they don't try to feed it by hand) is negligible. Though it is certainly possible some bird feeders and garbage cans might take it hard. The authorities have asked residents to call 9-1-1 if they sight the bear, which seems a bit odd--is it illegal for bears to enter Washtenaw county? So far, no one has talked about relocating it; according to the most recent reports , DNR officials want to put a radio collar on the bear to track its movements. Hopefully those movements won't include a speedy northward ride in the back of a truck.

Drying Up

Ponds and marshes around much of Michigan are near-overflowing this year--good news for ducks, at least those whose nests didn't wash out. But funds for programs supporting waterfowl and other game habitat are running dry.

From the AP:
The controlling Republican caucus in the House has renewed its attacks on the two most important waterfowl conservation programs. It plans deep if not total cuts to the North American Wetlands Conservation Act, and big hits to the conservation titles in the Farm Bill, including the critical Conservation Reserve Program.... NAWCA saw all of its $47.6 million budget eliminated. Waterfowl managers said it is critical to the survival of waterfowl hunting because it is the major vehicle for protecting the nation’s dwindling base of wetlands. During the past 30 years, it has protected 25 million acres of waterfowl habitat leveraging $800 million in government funds into $2 billion in matches from private partners. The House bill was blocked by the Senate, and after long negotiations with the administration, the compromise that passed included $37.5 million for NAWCA.
Read it all.

So the debt crisis comes, literally, home to roost. On an outdoor bulletin board I frequent this news was met with consternation, even by some members with a conservative political outlook. Only a few responded along the lines of "We all have to share the pain." I'd be more willing to concur with that line of reasoning if wetlands hadn't "felt the pain" of our economic expansions so much. Seriously--habitat loses either way. In good times it's pressured by development. In bad times, it loses funding for protection and management.

I know something has to give somewhere, but cuts like this are especially short sighted. For one thing, as the article noted,

The $5 billion a year the nation spends on various conservation programs puts $14 billion back to the treasury in taxes from people who make their livings in the industries supported by those programs.

Besides, the growing demand for food and mineral resources is going to continue regardless of the recession (unless that proceeds to the point of global economic collapse), which makes the conservation measures we have in place all the more important. In other words, while these cuts may have some merit...we just can't afford them right now.

For me, the key question as we face the debt, or any public concern, isn't "How much do we spend or cut?" but "What kind of country do you want to live in?" Obviously a country spending half its resources paying off its creditors is not one you want to live in. But one without healthy wetlands, forests, and waters has little appeal to me. Neither does one where students go deeply into debt to attain a threadbare higher education.

Of course, other citizens have very different ideas about the sort of country they'd like to inhabit. Conversations on this point will never be simple, but it would be nice to see leaders and encouraging and, yes, leading one instead of reciting tunnel-vision alarums about spending, spending, spending.

Pere Marquette 6/6

Many northern Michigan trout streams strongly resemble each other, with banks lined chiefly by spruce, pine, cedar, and tamarack. The Pere Marquette, lying toward the southern end of the north, is an exception, with oak and basswood mixed liberally among the evergreens. These hardwoods add a lushness to the PM lacking on other streams. And last monday the river was as lush as it's going to get. When I was there about three weeks ago, leaves were still unfolding, the grass along the river wouldn't have been high enough to mow if it was in my yard. Now, the foliage is on full display and the grass is growing tall--the woods seem not just green but illuminated in green. From here it's all downhill--leaves will become bug-chewed and a few will whither long before autumn; the grass will sag under its late summer weight and begin to dry out. But on Monday the woods were supple and vivid, and I was especially grateful to be among them.

I reflect on the trees since I don't have too much to say about the fishing. In the afternoon I caught a 12" brown on a nymph and a 15" rainbow on a large stonefly. Near sunset the gray drakes came out en masse, but disappeared before 10 PM without falling. Back at the car I saw the temperature was still near 80, and it stayed there during my long drive home. As hot as it was, I wouldn't be surprised if the bugs delayed their mating dance/death spiral until dawn. But waiting them out was not an option that night. Maybe they were spreading over the river once again when I climbed into my bed around 4.

Muskegon River, 6/4-5

One item on my angling to-do list for a few years has been to hit the gray drake hatch on the Muskegon or Pere Marquette. On the Mo it's said to bring out some of the larger holdover fish, and of course on the PM it may be the major "big fish" hatch after the hex. Plus, I've needed to redeem myself after squandering the one good gray drake hatch I ever hit (as related in my last posting ...). With some warm days predicted over the weekend, I thought it was a good time to try.

Got on the Muskegon at Pine st. Saturday evening around 7:30. I could see the sporadic rises to caddis, mostly by planter dinks, that you always see there and did catch a few juniors on a tan soft hackle. A little after 8 I saw more consistent, quiet rises, mostly on the edges of current lines on the edges of riffles or behind large rocks. Some very nice fish were porpoising. My soft hackle got ignored, as did versions of the tan and olive caddis that were fluttering about. The only other bugs around in any quantity were black dancer caddis (Mystocides sepulchralis), flies I see on other trout streams later in the season that, in my observation, don't draw much attention from trout. Saturday night they were covering my legs and, as I found when I stooped and scanned the surface at eye level, were swarming the river. I put on the smallest black caddis I had, a #18 dry (intended to mimic the larger, lighter Chimarra aterrima that hatch in May), and drew a couple of short strikes with it. The trout continued to feed until well after dark but I couldn't connect. Gray drake spinners did appear high overhead around 9:00, but didn't fall. After leaving the water saw that from the knees down my waders were covered with what looked like green pustules--caddis eggs.

After scoping out a few other river sections Sunday morning, I drove to Parsley's Sports in Newaygo to look for a proper imitation of the little bugs. My hopes weren't high, but I did find a couple of what looked like aterrima emergers in a size 20 and bought two. Now all I needed was an encore of the hatch.

Which is what I got, sort of. Those soft rises along the current lines showed again just after 8, though in the volume of the night before. Twice I saw the larger fish porpoising. On the second or third drift with the little emerger I got a solid take from a bait-size planter--nothing it brag about, but an improvement on the previous night. I eventually took four fish in the double digits (the best 14") along with more planters. The rises had more or less ceased by 9, and my wader legs were only lightly pimpled with eggs when I left the river. Not a hallmark night, but a satisfying one for having figured out the hatch and been able to match it, even if it was a bit of a no-brainer in this case. I am looking forward to trying my new acquisitions later this summer when black dancers are out on the smaller streams I fish. Maybe the trout have more interest in them than I've assumed.

Next: Pere Marquette on 6/6