The River is my Refuge

It has been a long, long while since I have been motivated to write...

My health has been the major reason I have not returned to my page. Since my last post, I have constantly struggled to get better. My emotional state declined as well as my physical health. I had finally found a good team of doctors who were helping me turn the corner...

I have had six surgeries to improve my quality of life and to try to enjoy some of the things that brought peace to my suffering. Through it all, I have come to realize one common truth
                                           
                                                    "Live for the moment!"

My fishing time has been severely limited and more often than not I am left to my own thoughts. I struggled through pain and control over my body. I find myself grateful that I still am able to do what I can.

As luck would have it I have some people in my life who will give me a swift kick in the ass when I want to give up. My wife has forced me to wake up and get ready as she drove me several hours to a fishing spot of sacrificed sleep which she is not prone to do. My son also grew into a baby man child with a driver's license and the desire to kick my ass into the river as well.

Quality over quantity has become another mantra of mine. Anything is often better than nothing as I have caught less fish but cherished each battle with more appreciation than ever.

                                                   "Pay it forward! Always!!!"

I am legally physically disabled. Some may look at me and think what the heck is wrong with him? Well, each persons medical history is their own and many choose to keep theirs private. But, know this....before you judge someone tries to understand them first. Many people struggle with unseen illnesses and the attitude that not being sick is often more hurtful than the illness themselves.

One of the greatest qualities of man is compassion. Never forget to use it! I have heard way to many times that it doesn't pay to be nice! Get yours while you can! I do not and will not understand that way of thinking.

Illness has a way of telling you what is really important in life! People! It is the relationships you make and how you treat those who are a part of your life. Over the last year, it seems I have been in touch with more of my older friends, meaning old friendships that have taken bigger importance. For me, that seems to be my old fishing buddies. Along the way, you make new ones as well that hopefully will turn into old ones too. Some of my fondest memories are often my most unexpected when a complete stranger can strike up a conversation simply due to your common love of the river and her bounty.

Even though I cannot fish as much as I would like my love for fishing is no less than before if anything the passion is even more fierce! I have tried to use the time spent not fishing for other en-devours somewhat related. One of which was rebuilding several old rods and just having fun with the whole process. Much of what I learned was trial and error and I even rebuilt a rebuilt rod to improve on it again.

There is something about catching a fish on a fly you tied and the same goes for catching one on a rod you built or rebuilt as well. There is something magical about it that is hard to explain. Anybody can buy the best rod, but to catch one on one of your own creation gives you a special feeling. It also helps that I have never been quite satisfied with the length of any fighting butts I have come across. Picking the colors and the style of the wrap to your very own liking as well as the placement of something as simple as a hook keeper with the finished product knowing everything is just the way you wanted it and you don't have to settle for something store-bought.

Then there is the feeling of letting the mighty fish swim away. Homemade fly....homemade rod....the appreciation of the fight and then the release. I can't think of a better way to spend a sunny fall morning with friends.

Most of the rods I rebuilt were close to 20 yrs old! Now, to me, they are like brand new again and the cost is very minimal compared to a brand new rod.

My favorite so far was a 9-foot St.Croix rod I used for many years and caught countless Steelhead on. The handle had gotten chewed up and the tip was busted off. I  rebuilt it on the idea of another old favorite rod I had, a Berkley Lightning Rod. I think I came close with the color scheme on the wrap but opted to paint the rod fluorescent orange to make it stand out so I went with a little bit more wrapping then I planned as well. Just a little secret, the black on the butt section was colored by a clack Sharpie!

I took another idea with using Czech beads for nymphs and with my sister's guidance even made some jewelry!

                   eventually evolving into semi-precious stones, copper and silver........

Life is a journey and one path leads you onto a path you never expected to take. I made some necklaces as well and the inspiration for creating things led into drawings and computer artwork and the idea to challenge myself to learn new ideas and create bigger and better things than I had ever imagined...
                                                

Although I have seen my share of curveballs thrown by life, I have made the conscious decision to just learn how to hit the curve, because I am sure as hell ain't about to give up.

Fishing is still a huge part of my life. I just have to listen to my body and take what I'm given and make the most of it and appreciate every chance I do get. When I get out I try to make the most of it and I still have the luck of the fishing gods on my side and with help from others, I still will be able to get into the heavy of it all.

I've found you can meet the nicest people along her banks, but the rudest as well. The choice is yours which you choose to be. My refuge is the river! we have a history....me and her! her waters flow as through the earth as mine own blood through my veins. In all of her splendor as the sun sparkles across the surface reflecting warmth onto my face and the coolness of her touch as it caresses my skin! Her roar and laughter at life as she tumbles over the rocks and logs always moving ever downstream. The smell of the rushing waters in her deep pools and eddies so dark and often menacing with untold mysteries. So many memories she holds for me......but, I am eager for the new ones yet to come!

Kingfisher, not catcher

This salmon season has been a humbling experience for many reasons. First and foremost the numbers of fish just aren't there. There were very high expectations following last years run which was considered the best in probably over 30 years for most rivers in west Michigan. Then there was the early spring where the ice was off the big lake in record time causing the Kings to get on the feed bag early. Alewives were still in abundance and the boat fisherman were making a killing on big kings early. Then, something drastic happened. The state was experiencing record heat waves and with little to no rain we were in a drought. Michigan has been one of the best states only behind Washington as far as rain fall. What were the effects this would have on the fishery? Lake Michigan is a HUGE body of water and the Salmon and big trout just need to go deep to find the cool water they thrive in. Boats were still doing well as long as they went farther out. The longer they stayed deep means the longer before they turn up river...

The rain never came and water levels were low everywhere all summer long. The rivers became crystal clear, even the ones that were normally cloudy with sediment you could see the bottom several feet down. Some tributaries were so shallow at the mouths fish had trouble getting into them. High expectations turned into disappointment. There still are fish if you work at it a little harder.

The cool clear waters of the Pere Marquette River

My season started with some vacation days and I was filled with hope and promise at getting on the fish early, except the fish for the most part were not there. Granted some came early as they always do, but nowhere near what I expected. My favorite hole that has always held a good pod of early fish was almost empty. A few dark shadows lurked in the depths below, but they were wary from the clear low waters.

Salmon fishing usually entails heavier line stiffer rods and big gaudy flies. I had to put away my egg sucking leeches in return for a #6 nuke egg which I reserve for a trailer for trout or the occasional steelhead. I dropped my leader down to 8lb Maxima not daring to go any lower knowing all to well big kings will snap off weak lines.

One of the few early season Kings I caught.

I started to catch a few Kings but my trips consisted of catching a fish or two to even getting skunked! This would not do at all. My hook-ups were way down, but what caused me concern was my hook-up to landing ratio was what I would call horrible. Typically 50% is a good number to shoot for. I was not even close.

Something happened on one earlier trip that I had never really experienced before. I was harassed by another fisherman for a fishing spot. It was still dark when I showed up at my favorite hole and I shone my flashlight over the river to see nobody was fishing there. I set my net down and my backpack and proceeded to get into the water when I heard someone yelling from the far bank. They were yelling at me spouting profanities like a sailor! Calling me all sorts of names while threatening to cause me physical harm as well as to break off any fish I hooked by snagging my line. This was ridiculous because I have shared the hole with at least ten others in past trips. I made a cast and he went into a frenzy which amazed me to find out he had his 4 year daughter present! I was lucky she was there as I had been told numerous times by now... My Irish temper was getting the best of me as I could feel my face and ears were red hot. I exited the river gathered my gear and decided to walk away until someone shouted something to the effect that it's good I walked away now while I could still walk. Then I re-entered the river and crossed.

When I reached the opposite bank I set my gear down and took off my vest. Luckily I have a large build probably from being part Polish so when I turned to introduce myself to my early morning friend I could see he was obviously concerned.

I held out my hand and said "Good Morning, My name is Mike. I came here to have an enjoyable day fishing and it seems like you are trying to ruin that. I offer you a bit of advice, before you start running your mouth you should know who you addressing when you threaten people in the darkness. I could have been a DNR or a police officer on my day off or even worse someone crazy who would have no problems hurting you and your daughter, which I am none of."

He did return the handshake and start to tell me how he knows DNR and fishing guides and all of the property owners and has free reign to fish where and when he pleases. He actually did apologize and offered to "let" me fish there. I declined wished him good luck with the fish that day. Fishing was slow and the fish were stubborn and in the end my day didn't get much better. I still had a bad taste in my mouth from the encounter with douchebag fisherman to start off my day. To make matters worse I broke my new fly rod on a fish I should have caught. Oh well, at least it is under warranty. I ended up going home early...

My now broken weapon of choice against Kings.

The right path is usually never the easy path

The fishing was still hit or miss on most of the tributaries as the run should have been at its peak. and I was yet again at my favorite river at my favorite spot with a good fishing buddy. The fish just were not there again. The fishing experience isn't really just about catching fish. Being out in nature with wildlife in abundance. The squirrels playing and gathering nuts for the long winter, the chirping birds, the soaring hawk, sometimes deer cross the river. This day was one of those days.

Being Indian is in your heart, It is a way of walking with the Earth instead of upon it...

Before I continue I must explain that by heritage in an American Mutt. I mentioned I was Polish and Irish, but I also have Cherokee blood flowing in my veins. I have read how others with mixed native heritage have felt "in tune" with their Indian heritage. I am one who feels that way as well. I have a deep sense of pride and feel an affinity with nature. I respect the earth and all living creatures to the point where I would fight for them. I have read many book and articles about Native Americans and their different cultures.

A nice native rainbow trout eatting eggs.

The number four is a lucky number among many tribes and on this day that number would manifest itself several times. It was September 14th, my birthday. I just turned 44. I just landed the fourth fish of the day. Two and two Kings. The rainbows were smaller one being 11 inches the other 16 inches, Both Kings were smaller females that were in great shape, but fought well. The day was slow but, very enjoyable. I had good companionship, great weather. I had witnessed nature in abundance. The wind was cool on my face and the water felt cool as well. Upon returning to my spot and started fishing I heard an odd birdcall and was looking for what made the noise as I saw what I thought was a Kingfisher fly across the river in full view. I then asked my fishing partner who is also part Indian (Blackfoot) if he saw the bird. His reply caught me off guard as it was intended as a compliment.

One of the Kings I caught that day.

 He said "No, but I'm looking at a Kingfisher now" as he looked towards me. I laughed because it was significant in so many ways. I was a King fisher and the king Salmon is my fish of choice. I beleive I am skilled in the fishing arts as well and catch many fish as is the birds namesake. In a way I had always wanted to be named like my ancestors and often wondered what my name would be if I was given one. I beleive it to be Kingfisher. The day seemed to be near perfect :)

With 100% certainty I heard and saw this bird, the Belted kingfisher

The fish have started to come albeit slowly, but there are more. Mother nature cannot be denied. The genetic make up of the Salmon insists they must spawn. I have released every fish this fall hoping that this seemingly poor run won't affect future runs.

The rain has started, but too little too late. Fresh Kings have been seen in some rivers and my luck has increased. I have taken mostly head shots of my fish since seeing the Kingfisher...

The Warrior

The Ghost

The River

An upstream view of one of my happy places in the world.

The river is my fishing destination of choice. If at all possible, somewhere far enough away from a road where you cannot hear the cars driving by. I know it may be a lot to ask, but we can always dream. I prefer my rivers clear and with a gravel and sand bottom. Clear skies and the sound of the rushing waters will drown out your stress and worries quicker than a bottle of anything to muddle the mind. When all these elements are perfectly in place catching fish can become almost secondary. But lets not fool ourselves, the fish is why we are here.

My prey of choice is the King (Chinook) Salmon. They are large and aggressive. They fight amongst themselves for the opportunity to spawn. The larger and more aggressive males will chase away anything that may interrupt the spawning ritual, including a well presented fly! And if the buck is in a particularly foul mood a poorly presented fly will do just as nicely. I have seen males move 5-6 feet to strike a fly with reckless abandon almost ripping the rod from my hands simply because he is in a pissed off mood. Those strikes are few and far between, but ALWAYS memorable! In Michigan the Salmon move upstream on my favorite river in August in large pods and some may even move upstream much earlier. The skies can be very clear with few clouds and the water low and crystal clear. Do not let this ruse convince you that a light leader will get you more strikes. It will just leave you with an open mouth and a snapped line as the fish makes your feeble reel scream as they jump like a derailed freight train. Oh these early days of fall is what I long for. When the birds are singing freely and the river is whispering to my soul often drawing me into a blissful state of peace before there is a bone jarring strike and it feels like my arm was nearly ripped out of socket.

Me feeling a little juiced after catching this small but spunky male King.

Early in the season the adrenaline rush you experience when you tangle with one of these brutes is an awesome natural high. When the fight is done you can feel your heart thumping in your chest and you can't help but smile after the fight is done, win or lose (although the smile is usually bigger for the victor). often times you can hear another fisherman holler in excitement somewhere else upon the river and you know the fight is on elsewhere.

A female King on it's way back to her redd upon being released.

Where I fish on the Pere Marquette it is a catch & release only fishery. The Salmon and Steelhead are all natural reproduction or strays.As the season goes on you can see much evidence of the ending of the cycle of life for these amazing fish.

The end of the line for this great warrior.

Their bodies can be seen half eaten by scavengers or floating downstream dead or dying, the leave pay homage as they are falling readily upon the ground and in the river. It is always a somewhat sad moment for me that I really cannot explain. I have a great deal of respect for these fish and a sense of gratitude, but as the Salmon fill the river with nutrients the river will belong to the chrome warriors soon enough...


This is a re-write of one of my first blogs. I thought it could stand for a little improvement.