More Wally

Despite the fact that its the 4th of July and fireworks are planned at 10 PM, you've just come off the biggest moment in your walleye fishing career.  Your walleye fly fishing career.  You say to yourself, "I need to do that again." 

You think about how tomorrow you'll drive 350 miles south toward a home that has lakes without hexagenia mayflies and lakes that are full of other boaters/anglers/jet skis and how you'd never eat walleyes from those lakes anyway. 

You think about what calms your soul and what fills your spirit. 

You think about how you started doing this 25 years ago and how few years left you may have to do it again.

You think about how lame fireworks really are.

And you go.

And you catch fish.

You also catch some hell the next morning....but at least you brought home dinner.

 

Wally

We did what we always do, my brother-in-law and I.  One guy carries the canoe, the other guy grabs the two rods, a pack of flies, tippet, floatant, bug sauce with Deet and the paddles.  We wear our life jackets and one of us pockets 6' of rope that we hope to use as a stringer.  The drive is paved, then gravel, then bush.  The portage is short...maybe 300 yards. 

The lake is empty. 
As always.

We load the canoe, and shove off and see something out of place.  Maybe we were too quick to assume we were alone.  Its white and moving.  Could be a boat.  Then there are two.

It's early, the hex hatch won't start for at least an hour so we decide to paddle closer to solve the riddle.

It's not long before we know that they are birds, I'm thinking white pelicans because my Mom just told me she saw a couple recently (very odd for this part of the world but still possible), so that's what a blurt out.

The canoe inches closer and I zoom in with my camera...and still, I think pelican.

But no. 

They are a pair of Trumpeter Swans.  When they get nervous from our approach they start up and after a loud, long, thunderous trip down their watery runway, take flight and circle around to land on the opposite end of the lake.

Riddle solved, we put rods together and commit to the fishing.

Years ago I surmised that the hex mayflies that I see getting eaten on the surface could only be a portion of the population sustaining the walleyes.  The fish had to be eating nymphs too. 

Right?

I tied all manner of hex nymphs, copying versions from magazines and fly bins to creating my own.
In the past 5 years or so I've taken to raiding my bonefish fly box for 2" long patterns in tanish, creamish colors....bead chain eyes, dumbell eyes, some with flash, some without. 

One night trout fishing the hex hatch, I didn't get a single fish on a dry but I landed 5 or 6 on a bonefish fly.  I decided right then that I needn't reinvent the wheel.

As the sun started to drop lower I tied one of these bonefish/hex nymphs on my line and sent one via airmail to the bow of the canoe for my brother-in-law to use.  He picked up a couple of small perch on his.  I cast and boated a few of my own perch and one of us landed a northern pike but I can't remember who.

My lapse in memory on this pike is probably equal parts old age and equal parts what happened next.

With the sun dropping below the horizon but still a solid 20 minutes before we expected to see flies on the surface, I cast and began another slow strip retrieve.  I was pulling the fly in short 3-6" strips trying to envision the swimming speed of a hex nymph.  With only 15' of flyline out of the tip-top guide the fly stopped and the rod bent, the water swirled in that incredible upwelling that occurs when a fish turns near the surface.

I was pretty sure it wasn't a perch.  When its head just cleared the water 20' out, I did that instant computation where you figure body of water, species available, fly thrown, weight on the line and visual cues.

I said, "It's a decent Northern!" My brother-in-law said, "No.  It's a walleye."

My Dad started me walleye fishing when I was 5 or 6.  Walleyes are 3/4 of a pound to 2 pounds.  Maybe 3.  I'm 44 now and I've caught some walleyes.

The fish bulldogged and turned.  It bore down as deep as it could go, which, in this section of the lake, was 3 feet.  It came up again and I saw that I had been in error and that my brother-in-law had correctly identified the species. 

But it was big.

And we had no net.

I asked my brother-in-law if he could grab it and I worked the fish toward him as he put his fly rod down and got into the heron position...or at least as heronlike as one can get sitting in the bow of the canoe.  

It took three attempts before the fish's tail cleared the gunwale. 

I said, "I'm thinking about eating that fish."
He said, "You have to, I gave it the death grip to get it in the boat."

I tied it to the stringer and admired it.  The mosquitoes started their incessant buzzing and converged on us and I kept sneaking peeks over the gunwale at my fish on the string.  The hex hatch started and two more walleyes were added to the stringer but I can't recall who caught them. 

I do remember adding them to the stringer because I had tied the first fish on with such a fool-proof knot that took some creativity to add other fish to the rope.

When we got back home, we put a tape to it and it was 1/2 inch shy of 30.

The biggest walleye of my life, on a bonefish fly.

I probably would have a little more remorse about killing such a great fish except it was absolutely delicious.  My wife and two kids said so too....two nights in a row.  

Just a few pics from the Motherland

Special place...the North Shore of Lake Superior is.

Happy 3rd of July!

We rolled into the in-laws this afternoon.  I was running though the Independence Day weekend itinerary with my brother-in-law and it was decided that tonight would be the only shot at hex'n for walleyes.  Normally we miss dinner and hit the lake early, sunburn in the heat of evening sunset and wait for the mosquitoes to drop in.

Tonight, dinner was on the table at 7:30.  We dined on walleye (what else??) potatoes and salad.

By 8:00 we were on the road and we were sliding the canoe into the lake at 8:35.

Perfectly still, calm, perfect.

I've found that certain flies tied with bead-chain eyes and intended for Bahamian bonefish work as a passable Hexagenia emerger imitation in Northern Minnesota.

A passable 3/4 pound fish agreed with me and swallowed my fly shortly after the sun dropped below the horizon.

Though I have done this many times before, the wait for the hatch is always a little nerve-wracking.  It always happens a little later than I remember and there are times when it doesn't happen at all.  Tonight, as if on cue, the sky darkened as the thrum of mosquitoes signaled the end of the comfort and the start of the show.

The first hex popped and stalled on the surface.  The second came a few minutes after.  Then it became a forgone conclusion as big bugs popped and struggled to unfold their wings and take flight.

There is a moment in fishing a hatch, especially an after dark hatch like the hex, when you have to commit to the dry fly.  After the second small splashy rise in the failing light, I snapped on my headlamp and replaced the bonefish fly with a spentwing spinner, or as I was a hoping the fish would consider it, a crippled emerger.

We spent the next 45 minutes getting small rises to our offerings but didn't hear any big gulpers.  We one hand paddled the canoe toward the most likely splashes but the eaters didn't seem to be around.  We opted for a change of location which is always the last ditch effort while fishing a hatch that might last an hour.

We finally heard a good feeder to the southeast and paddled toward it...it came up once, then twice.  In what is probably best described as location through sonar, we triangulated its position until the moon betrayed the rise form.  I dropped the spinner close and waited 3 beats before the next gulp took my fly down with it.  I set and felt the throb and deep bend of a decent fish...

...but just for an instant, before the line went slack.

The 476th mosquito bit my unexposed skin, above my buff and below my hat.

I cursed for a couple of good reasons.

Big and Fresh

Thursday July 3rd - Evening.
Wandered down to the Big Lake for a look-see.
A few fish were rising but none seemed all that interested.
The clear lake water was hovering in the high 30's and as I waded, the tannin stained water from the river would surge and flow around my waders.  Though the river temp was probably not much more than the mid 60's the difference in temps made it feel like it was close to boiling.  I stayed until dark and then packed it in.

Friday July 4th - 4:00 AM
The alarm clock this early normally requires a few whacks at the snooze button, but with a morning on the lake calling, I jumped out of bed, made a cup of coffee, slipped on my waders and was on the road in 30 minutes.

I had been in the water swinging my chartreuse and white deceiver for ten minutes when TP showed up clutching a 7 weight switch rod and a stainless steel coffee cup.  He started at the head of the outflow and within minutes he scooped me by hooking a walleye.  It hurt even more that he was swinging a chartreuse and white streamer about the same size as the one I was fishing.  We spent the morning pitching flies and filling our stripping buckets with retrieved line.  We waded out to the small rock island and continued to fish as we discussed art and logos and fishing and life.
I didn't notice until I was back at the truck that we hadn't touched another fish.

Saturday July 5th - 5:00 AM
I had a wilderness 10k  race yesterday.  It kicked my ass and the thought of getting up at 4:00 in the morning wasn't in the cards.  So I got up at 5:00.  I repeated the ritual of coffee and gearing up and headed back out to the lake shore.  A few smallish fish were rising though it was tough to see what they were.  Not that it mattered...if they were suckers eating on top I would have gladly fished over them.
About 45 minutes in I got a bump but repeated swings through resulted in no further interest.  I switched sides of the current and changed to a muddler.  A 14" juvenile steelhead liked my offering and smashed it hard on the swing and then went airborne 6 times...That was pretty cool.  After I released it, I waded out to the rock and kept pitching and stripping.  Increased surface activity sent me scrambling for my single hander pre-loaded with a long tippet of 4x and a parachute hare's ear.  The rises were small and sporadic in close, but there was a pod of larger fish sharking bait 150 yards out that I kept my eyes on.  I had one small fish take the dry but the hook never found target.  Shortly after that, a 10" coho shot out of the water at a bug in flight and I felt pretty confident that all of the fish i was seeing were salmon.  I kept willing the larger fish in closer so I could get a few shots at them....but they never came.

Saturday July 5th - 5:30 PM
The plan was to meet TP back on the water for an evening fish.  But the weather decided against our plan.  4+ inches of rain fell in an hour.  The winds hit close to 80 mph.  Everything blew out.

Explosions on the Fourth of July

The schedule of events said that the fireworks for this little town were going to be on July 5th this year.  Thus, on the 4th, I found myself sitting in a canoe on a small lake in Northern Minnesota, with my brother-in-law, waiting for explosions of different kind.

The Hex hatch happens on many lakes in this part of the world at this time of the year.  It makes the hardcore walleye guys curse and stay home.  "They are on the $#^&* flies..." they'll say, and they are right.  The protein unload of this hatch is enough to make any walleye, of any size, fore-go their standard forage of minnows and leeches for the delightful "POP" of  a fat mayfly between their teeth.


The explosions vary.  The little fish will splash, medium size fish gulp and the largest fish just inhale.

So, I sat in the boat waiting for the drum beat of the marauding mosquitoes that usually signifies the start of the hex hatch.  We chose the lesser of the two evils and applied Deet to our jackets and hats and the back of our hands.  (Deet doesn't stop the little bastards from biting you, it just keeps you from going insane.)

Before there were any bugs on the water, I decided to fish a no-named bonefish fly that had a size and color similar to a hex nymph.  It didn't take long for a smallish fish to buy into my program.  I took one look at the fish, did some mental calculations and came up with: "would be delicious".  I slid it on the stringer.

Next, a small northern pike hammered the fly and I came up with the same conclusion regarding its flanks as table fare.  Not what I was targeting, but what the heck.

The hatch is dependent on a number of things, some of which I understand and some of which I don't.
Heat and light are important.  Rain and wind are typically not good.  It was with a little disappointment that I watched the calm surface of the water get kicked up from a squall passing to the north.  When it calmed down again a few bugs started to show on the surface and a few fish (some "inhalers") followed them up. 

I hooked and landed another smallish fish and then stuck a fish that was probably in the 2 pound range before the hook popped.  My brother-in-law heard a gulp in the darkness near where his fly should have been, waited longer than he should have and then set the hook on a decent pound and a halfer that we added to the pile.

The mosquitoes were biting through the cane seat, my pants and boxers and it made me think I should have brought a boat cushion.

A second squall came and kicked up some wind and dropped some rain effectively closing the door on the hatch for the night. 

I tied on a deceiver and cast for awhile thinking that I would offer them a plan "B" to a failed hatch.
I got one taker, about the size as the first fish, and threaded the rope through it's gills.

The Hex hatch for walleyes, sometimes you hit it and sometimes you don't...but it's always worth heading out to see if you can find the explosions.

The best lakes have unimproved boat ramps.

Preparations

Walleye falls for a Bonefish Fly

Squall that missed us.

Hardly a bragging stringer but at least 1 dinner.

The best lakes have unimproved parking lots.

Starting Early

I drove back up North to MN on the evening of July 3rd. 

The late arrival made for a late night of drinks and chatter.  When the last of the revelers finally hit the sack, I slid on my waders and headed to the shore of Lake Superior.

Another all-niter.

Independence Day:
The moon slid out of sight and the morning turned into a classic calm summer morning on the North Shore.
A fishless couple of hours soon became an agate picking/birdwatching event.

I crept up the beach to photograph a pair of bald eagles waiting for a local fisherman to toss them breakfast.  When they decided they didn't like me so close, they departed and left me walking the beach with my neck craned looking for Superior's native gem.  By 8:00 I was bleary eyed and drove back to my bed for a quick 2 hour nap before the day started again.

Buzz

It's 5:00 pm on Monday June 24th.  Ive been awake since 6:30 am Sunday June 23rd.  I fished Sunday night and took a short break only to start again at 3:00 am this morning.  At 8:45 this morning I called it quits, took a shower, had breakfast and spent the day with my family and McSteel's family doing things that make kids giggle and smile.  And then they do something that isn't giggling or smiling and I think I probably should have slept last night because my patience was left at yesterday's door.

But it's 5:00 pm on Monday and we are going back out fishing.  My brother-in-law, my father-in-law, McSteel and me.  Easy wading, a short hike, lots of mosquitoes.   Hopefully we will get some walleyes after the sun sinks.  If not, the lake has Northern Pike, Small Mouth Bass, Perch...maybe some Crappies.

We pull over to the side of the gravel road on the way and my brother-in-law jumps out of the truck to harvest some Oyster mushrooms off of a dead Poplar tree.  In the cab of the truck he shows them to me and I wonder why mine come in a foam box with cellophane wrapped over them and his come on a tree.

We get to the brushy turn off and park in a clearing that was obviously logged a number of years ago.  Rods are rigged and Deet is applied to my hair and neck and the back of my hands.  I'm careful not to get the chemical on my palms.  I'd hate to melt an $80 flyline.  I wipe the back of my hands on my ears and under my chin so that the mosquitoes will hesitate before biting me there.

McSteel and I wade in and my father-in-law and brother-in-law find a spot among the cedars to cast out into the flowing neck that connects these two lakes.  My father-in-law says it's shallow and it should be easy wading.  The bottom is covered with bowling ball to desk sized boulders that make the wading slow and deliberate.  Plus, I've been awake for too many hours and I'm not feeling as nimble as all of this requires.  I cross the narrow channel and head to the shore of the upper lake.  Pitching my fly as I stop between steps, I pull in a decent perch and then two 12" pike.  McSteel calls them snot-rockets.  Good name.

At the corner where the upper lake ends and the narrow flow begins, I double haul out and strip back.  At first I double hand strip and then, when I am satisfied that I can allow the fly to sink, I slow it down and retrieve with a single hand.

My spun deer hair streamer attracts the attention of a 16"-17" smallmouth that pulls hard against the graphite in my 8 weight.  I realize that I am pulling back hard and the fish is doing the same with some success.  Eventually subdued, the bass is healthy and dark with some bronze showing through its flanks.  A pretty fish and a hard fight.  I count this as a success.

After almost landing a 3-4 pound northern pike that eventually gets it's teeth on my leader and cuts the line as it thrashes by my side, I hear some commotion behind me and learn from my brother-in-law that his Dad has caught the twin to the one that stole my fly.

The sun dips below the horizon and lights up the remaining clouds with a pink glow.  I pause and take a few pictures and notice that the mosquitoes are buzzing in the exact same tone as my tired brain.

I am back at the bank having successfully retraced my steps from earlier.  McSteel, and my brother-law are watching my father-in-law fish.  McSteel has his buff pulled up and when he speaks it sounds like he's wearing a scarf.  Still, I wish that I hadn't forgotten my buff back at home.  I'd wipe Deet on it and pull it up over the back of my cap, over my ears, under my hood and leave just my eyes exposed.  My brother-in-law kneads his hands unconsciously and this seems to stop most of the mosquitoes from getting a bite.  I look around me and realize that I'm surrounded by a cloud of them.

The tired buzz in my brain is no match for the din of these assassins.  They win and we leave them to find an alternate source of blood for the evening.

Oyster mushrooms before

Oyster mushrooms after

Perch Non-photogenic

SMB

Evening on a secluded lake in N. MN