Open the Door

McSteel and I talked about it after our last mission of Carp'n the Door.  We went late last year and we figured earlier this year.  We suggested to our wives that camping might be fun and they bought into our pitch.  Back when we started this discussion I was sure to remind my lovely wife that it was a fishing trip but that camping would be fun and the kids would have a blast...
When I reminded her of the mission objective just days after a week in the Bahamas....I got the look.

And you know, she was right in giving me the look.  Selfish bastard.

Despite the ill timed trip and the "look", McSteel and I made it out and did our best.  We saw a grand total of 6 or 7 carp, two of them were pigs tailing in the marina of one of DC's quaint little towns on a day when we took the families to town to mill around and buy ice cream cones and didn't even consider bringing rods.  Our Bad.

I pushed McSteel around for day one and he has an eye for spotting smallies.  He managed to bring a couple to hand and it would have been a bad fishing trip if they were 13 inchers.  But they weren't.

The second day I started the afternoon by motoring and rowing but before long McSteel offered his services on the sticks and I figure I might as well soak a fly.  The outcome was a nice SMB and I was thrilled to be in clear fresh water and feeling the tug.

The next fish came ( I swear this is true) when I was standing on the deck talking to McSteel about the slooooow long strip that the bonefish guides prescribe when they see a fish eat.  I was actually demonstrating the move, finishing with a short quick snap of the wrist to signify the hooks set when you can feel a bonefish has eaten.  At that precise moment, in 12 feet of water, a smallie decided that it liked the way I was moving the fly through the demonstation...and ate my fly.

We marked that fish on the rod and I put a tape up against it when I got home...20 inches.

Not too bad for a demonstration fish...

Part of the trade off of going out in the battleship chasing Carp and whatever (the whatever in this case being monster smallmouth) was that I needed to take the dog.  The wives and kids wanted to go for a bike ride and the pooch isn't formally trained in bicycle etiquette.  So this weekend I introduced Thor to boats.  What I learned is that my dog can drink Green Bay water and live, he likes to see fish being caught and that he will certainly be invited out for the next boat fishing trip.  Good dog!

The Door

I spent the weekend on the hallowed grounds of fly fishing for carp ...and by hallowed I mean "Dave Whitlock" hallowed.
I've been meaning to go up and fish this water for so may years I've lost count...over 10.  I finally decided it was time.  I shot out some invitations and despite a few "sorry, I can't make its" I got a "yep" from McSteel.

I had the 8's and 9's packed along with a 2 man tent and entirely too many flies.  The plan was for McSteel to meet me on Saturday afternoon after I had already bolted north and spent a few hours scouting the area from the deck of Jon Johnson.   (It will perhaps be our last mission together, Mr. Johnson and I,  but more on that later.)

I spent four hours on the road towing the boat and at hour 3, I started feeling like I was from Illinois.
The spot I'd marked to launch was a few lefts and rights off the beaten path, but when I got to the boat ramp (?) I was happy to find it completely void of any cars or trailers.  A quick inspection of the facility and I understood why.  The steep, buckled ramp emptied into a shin deep expanse of clear water over light sand.  A terrible place to be if you are trailering anything more than a 17' canoe, or a 16' jon boat.

The sun was high and the wind was light as I pushed off and climbed up on my cooler to pole around the bay.  About 30 minutes in, as I was drifting with an increasing south wind, I saw a fish moving toward me and I rattled off 3 shots before it headed east and out of sight and range.   I spent the next 90 minutes alternating between rowing, poling and drifting.  I was still amped about the color and clarity of the water and the bright sandy bottom that I almost didn't care that I wasn't spotting fish.
I figured when I found them, I'd see them.

McSteel jumped aboard at about 2:30 in the afternoon and we shoved off to put double the eyes on the flats.  He spotted one fish as we were rowing upwind in 4' of water but we never got a cast off.  We spent the afternoon, cursing clouds, peering through polarized glasses and scratching our heads.
We couldn't find fish.

At the bar for dinner that night we sat with fingers clutching cold local brews trying to decide the game plan for the next day.   We figured if the wind was going to blow from the south, we'd fish a bay with a north facing mouth.  Luckily there was one located very close to where we were camped.  After a quick nightcap on the camp chairs back at the campground, McSteel climbed into his solo and I decided I'd try sleeping in the back of my Honda Pilot (which, if you have one, I'd now happily recommend).

The alarm was set for 6:30 but I didn't need it.  I was refreshed and ready for day two of our carping adventures.  The good news was that the morning wind wasn't too bad, and the cloud cover was probably less than the "mostly cloudy" report we'd expected.  The bay provide decent visibility but the flats were far less expansive than the bay from the day before.  In a way, we were hoping that this might work in our favor i.e. shallow water with access to deep water nearby.  After a short amount of prospecting McSteel found a decent smallie in 6' of water around some boulders.  It was acting territorial and after fighting the breeze to stay put, we dropped the anchor and McSteel succeeded in tempting this one to eat.  It should surprise no one that knows him that the boy can spot Smallmouth.
It was my turn next, and I too spotted a fish.  The trouble was, I couldn't get it to stay put long enough to taunt it.  I ended up firing a few casts at the quickly departing ass-end of the fish and then it was game over.

Between the increasing wind and cloud cover we were forced to depart from the smallie-zone and headed across the bay to a calmer section.  We never found any carp, but we did find some very big drum.  I'd guess the weight at 6-8 pounds.  Again the wind and light made it tough, but we did get a few shots at fish, including a couple of times when we were pretty sure the drum moved closer to the fly and with mouths wired shut...simply took a closer look.   This critter, the drum, has me intrigued.

The Big Carp Trip ended without much in the way of fishing for carp...a thought that I find depressing as a guy who'd like to hang a few more on my fly rod, but quite nice as a proponent of native fisheries.

It was probably the first of at least a few more trips to this beautiful water to fish, but it was the final mission for me with my trusty boat Jon Johnson.  My new boat is waiting for its new trailer to be built and Jon is heading north to spend some time with TP, a guy who I think will appreciate the understated elegance of her khaki hull, non slip casting deck and dirt-bag mojo.

Getting out of the house...

The weekend was unplugged.  No cell phone, ipods, ipads, laptops.  From our mom and pop hotel room in Door County we cheated a little and watched some of the summer olympics on the old school TV...otherwise we were unplugged.  Family weekends are just that.  You can sneak an 8 wt along but it's still not a fishing trip.  The kids swam and enjoyed the simple pleasure a swingset provides.  We packed our own food with the exception of 3 meals which we had at the same restaurant because the service was good and the food was better.  I snuck away a few times once to watch the kid at the end of the pier catch a nice small mouth and once to wade the flats of Bailey's Harbor looking for (but not finding) feeding carp.  Such sweet failure.