Beware of Guys Bearing Pink Flies by Steve Mach

Recently I ran into a friend, I’ll call him “John” for privacy’s sake, who gave me some flies that he had tied. I always appreciate free fishing stuff so I took them, but upon closer inspection I saw that they were pink!! I really didn’t know if he was playing a practical joke on me, if these flies really worked, or if maybe he was color blind. I think it’s possible he may have been drinking because he was talking about seeing various brightly colored rodents.

I was fishing a few days after “John” gave me his pink flies and I decided to give one a try. I was lucky that the creek I was fishing was in the boonies and that I was alone, because the pink fly really clashed with my fishing gear. I know some guys meticulously match the fly that they are using to the current hatch, but I usually pick a fly that is a complementary color to my fly line and fishing vest.

“John” knows that I really like to explore far from the road and get to lightly fished spots. A few times during my search for a trout dumb enough to eat my fly I have stumbled upon some of his “secret” spots. When I catch a fish on nearly every cast with these pink flies how am I ever supposed to get away from where I parked my car? In addition to trying to make me look unfashionable, I think he may have given me these super-effective pink flies to prevent me from finding any more of his “secret” spots.

After fishing these pink flies I also question their durability. Usually, if I don’t stick my fly in a tree (or my ear) it may last me for weeks or even months, but with every trout in the creek attacking these pink flies I had to tie on a new one every 20 or 30 minutes!! “John” knows that I tie knots slower than almost anyone on the planet, and each time I released another dozen fish and looked at the mangled fly I could picture him laughing at me while I struggled to tie on a new one.

When I began fly fishing one of the things that really appealed to me was the nearly endless amount of really cool gear available. I sat gazing at catalogs and dreaming of the gear that I could accumulate in the search for stuff that would allow me to finally catch a trout. It could take my entire lifetime to assemble the countless fly boxes (labeled so I know which vest the flies match), a collection of fancy rods, every weight and type of line, reels, flytying supplies, nets, etc. “John’s” pink flies have ruined all of this for me. Now that I have actually caught a trout, what excuse do I have to tell my wife that I need the latest fly rod made from a mix of Plutonium and Helium? I also don’t need any more fly boxes filled with tons of flies, because all I need to bring to the stream is one film canister filled with those pink things. My dream of a large collection of fishing gear from all of the famous manufactures has been crushed; I am still trying to come to grips mentally with the idea that I won’t need a Hardy Angel reel in order to catch an 8” brown trout in Mormon Coulee Park.

Be careful next time you are in Vernon County and a friendly guy offers you some free flies. Sometimes even free stuff ends up having a cost.

A Letter from a Member

The following letter was sent to the Trout Unlimited Board of Trustees on August 6, 2007.

Re: Stream Access and TU

As I write this email I am amazed that stream access has become the issue it has with the leaders of TU. I am not surprised however, this is not the first time a national organization has lost contact with the reason for its beginning and its membership.

I have been a member of TU for several decades. I have fished trout in northern Wisconsin since I was 5 years old and after college in many states and Canada. In all that time I fished public water in almost all instances on streams and lakes that were actively managed by state conservation agencies. Except when I was youth in Wisconsin, under the age of 16, I fished under authority of a license and also with a trout stamp. Ninety eight percent of the time people fish trout, except in instances like trout ponds, as members of the public as they must have a license and must abide by regulations adopted through a public rule setting process.

Agencies manage public water under their public trust authority with public funds and a big reason they are able to do so is because there is good public access to the resource and in states like Wisconsin there is a long and storied history of court and legislative battles to preserve everything that is public about lakes and streams.

If you want to send a strong negative message to politicians and TU members that access is not worth fighting for then continue to pretend that access is not our issue or that TU must find the right nexus. We have public waters and public rights because individuals and organizations fought for them and endured the difficulties of the fight.

There are many other issues that swirl around the access issue and these issues are much more problematic when public access is downplayed, underestimated or ignored. To me TU has always stood for sound natural resource management and for access to public waters and the fish they produce.

I sincerely hope that TU will return to its past image of being a strong defender and advocate of public access to public waters. I am always pleased to contribute to an organization that has leaders connected to its historical roots and can see the common vision of its membership.

Marc A Schultz
Onalaska, Wisconsin

Traveling to Where the "BIG" Trout Are by Steve Mach

Some fishermen will tell you that they enjoy the walk in the woods, the wildflowers, the sound of water in the stream, and the birds singing, as much as they like catching fish. These same guys will tell you that they enjoy a 6” brook trout gently sipping their size 28 midge just as much as a 24” brown trout inhaling a mouse fly so big that it requires its own fly box. Don’t believe them for a second – they lie!! They want to catch a trout as long as their leg, just like the rest of us, but they have a better story for the days it doesn’t work out that way.

A few years ago I bought a fly rod and started taking it with me on all of the hiking/ backpacking vacations that I take with my wife. We often travel to areas that are “world famous” for their fishing, so I assumed I would be catching a “ BIG” fish on almost every cast. I convinced myself that the fishing would be so good that it wouldn’t matter that I
didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I had seen Brad Pitt do it in a movie once, so it couldn’t be that hard.

The following is a list of the “BIG” trout that I have caught on some of my vacations. Only the largest of each species are listed, and their size has not been exaggerated (very much):
Snake River: Trip 1, 0 fish, Trip 2, 10” Cutthroat
Colorado River: 6” Brook
Madison River: 8” Rainbow
Yellowstone River: 0 fish
Mountain lakes in Rocky Mountain National Park: 6” Brook, 12” Greenback cutthroat
Poudre River: 10” Rainbow
Beartooth Mountains: 8” Golden, 2” Grayling
White River: 12” Rainbow, 10” Cutthroat
Bighorn Mountains: 6” Rainbow, 8” Brown

Ironically, the largest trout that I ever caught came from the creek closest to my home in La Crosse. Apparently, I am slow to figure out that the farther I travel from home, the smaller the fish are that I catch.

Like a gambling addict who believes his luck will change if he plays one more hand, I am excitedly planning my next “BIG” trout vacation right now: a train ride to Glacier National Park, rent a car, and drive into Canada. All Canadian rivers are full of “BIG” trout aren’t they? I’m hoping that my small fish expertise will actually be useful in these Canadian waters. My plan is to hook a small trout, which I am reasonably confident I can do (see above list), but then have a 20 pound bull trout grab it before I land it.

Unfortunately the fish that I have caught on my vacations haven’t always been the “BIG” ones that I had hoped for. I guess it’s a good thing that I enjoy those flowers, birds, and all that other crap.

Crazy Days by Eric Rauch

The kids are in bed and it’s quiet. Holy %4@& it’s quiet!! I actually have some time to sit and read the Coulee Region TU newsletter. After reading John Bethke’s article about our crazy world, I just had to sit down and jot out a few lines about my crazy days. As some of you know my wife Becky and I were blessed with twins in December which brought our offspring total to three quite quickly. I never could have dreamed just how much time and effort having two babies and a three-year-old at home would take!
Early season arrived and I had tied no flies, attended none of the TU gatherings, and missed the Great Waters Fly fishing Expo. I had changed a million diapers and been up more than I slept most nights. Worse yet, in a fit of rebellion during a particularly bad night I bought a rather expensive fly reel online and it seemed to be laughing at me each time I passed it lying on top of the fridge! Piles of diapers and countless sleepless nights later, in early April, my day came. I had a four hours to myself to fish! Off I went to the stream making sure I had my annoying cell phone in case things went south at home. Everything was rushed; tying a leader on with “good enough” knots and choosing the first fly that came to mind. I think I actually ran down to the water and plunged in just below the first pool. I was so used to being busy that I couldn’t slow down! First cast into the tree behind me, &*^%$, second above the pool and into a snag *&*^%#@#^*&!!! I had to remind myself why I was out there. Just to be out on a perfect spring day was great! I had to sit down, take a breath, and take it all in. Regaining my composure and a couple flies from the tree behind me, I began to cast again with a more relaxed rhythm and an improved sense of why I loved to fish in the Coulees. My four hours was filled with only 5 fish. However, 2 went 17” so I felt very fulfilled and relaxed by the time I left the water.

I keep a log of all of my on-stream outings and 3 years ago I spent almost every fishable day on the water. My fishing time has slid steadily down hill since then but the quality of four hours on a trout stream has only improved whether I catch any fish or not.

So for those of you who haven’t seen me in awhile, I haven’t vanished from the face of the earth and I hope to come back and be more involved in TU again soon. It looks like the group is working to make things a little more functional again, after a short period of turmoil. Thanks to all of you who have kept this group going!

Why I Fish by Carl Schmidt

Editor’s Note: Over the next year, the Coulee Region Trout Unlimited Newsletter will feature area anglers answering the question “Why I Fish.” This is the third installment in the series.

Early on a cloudy mid-July morning I left the house with much anticipation. Go'in trouting. Driving westward I arrived at La Crescent to find Norm already waiting aside his car ready to go. We continued on southwest while talking about the coming day a-stream. Saw some Canada geese mulling in a pothole near Hokah. The valleys and rolling countryside displayed lush fields of corn. We stopped at the Redwood Cafe for breakfast with the friendly locals. Charlie came to our table and sat down. "You birds going fishing again?" he asked. "Yep. I think we'll give it a try," I answered. Robin brought breakfast and more hot coffee.

The gravel road downhill to the valley was moist from the morning dew. A black squirrel scampered roadside while nervous crows flew overhead. The valley floor was green and inviting and off and on we could glimpse the shimmering stream in shadow or morning sun. Martins swooped down from their nests in the limestone bluffs at the first bend in the road.

Several miles down the valley I parked the car and after struggling into waders, boots and jackets we readied our fly rods and reels. I gazed into my fly box. Flies for all occasions! "Guess I'll start with an emergent nymph today," I said. "Going to feed 'em a scud Norm?" "I think I'll just see what's about," Norm answered. "Don't know if the tricos are up yet since it was quite cool last night. Think I'll stay away from any pink fly today."

We walked over damp grass past standing corn toward the stream. A ground hog moved into the brush. At the bank hole we peered cautiously over the high side. Blue-green water flowed smoothly over dark green weeds at the tail of the pool. "Don't see anything coming off Norm," I said. A sudden rise spread rings over a weed channel. Then Norm noticed a trico mayfly that had perched on his shirt sleeve. We admired the little creature silently.

Walking downstream we passed the tractor ford and then a long rocky pool. Some trout scurried for cover. A few midges were trapped in a dew-covered cob web near the water. There were fresh deer tracks along the path and a few lethargic hoppers moved about. Passing a long riffled pool we stopped at the crossover below. "I'll move on down to the campground" Norm said. “Should see some tricos soon."

I waded upstream over lacy, gurgling riffles and stopped at the lip. Look first, then cast, I pondered. Crouching low I could see nothing coming off of the water. Then a small rise and then a larger one to my left. I set my indicator at 14 inches and on the second cast watched it drift over a channel and disappear. A nice 12 incher raced forward and jumped twice before bringing it to hand. After admiring the brown trout's wet spotted colors I eased the fish back into the water.

Slowly, cautiously I fished up the long pool. I became absorbed in my effort and work, experimenting, analyzing, moving on to new water, changing flies, trying again. Caught two more small browns on an Adams dry fly. Then, on the left bank, a red-winged black bird flew anxiously over the streamside grass squawking and scolding. I gazed toward the near bank and there in the tall grass rested a small, perfect nest with three blue-green eggs. I'll not disturb your little jewels I thought and moved on.

Norm came up from below. "Got a couple on a trico spinner and then they took a scud," Norm said. I readied to fish the white water at the head of the pool. After adjusting the leader I tied on a #12 cricket fly. "Hang onto your hat Norm," I said smiling. On the third cast the fly drifted near bank side overhanging grass and disappeared with a soft slurp. A strong fish raced downstream and I had to follow. "Must be the chairman of the board!" I gulped. No jumps this time, only dogged pulling. After tiring, the brown came to hand. A nice 14 and 15/16th incher, thick, solid and deeply colored.

We ambled upstream and I fished at the ford where I lost my fly in a tree. Norm walked ahead to fish the pools in the woods while I fished the bank pool. At the tail of the pool I again cast my Adams dry. This is where Don Severson got a nice one in April during the Hendricksens, I recalled. Then a wake moved up towards deep water. I followed and caught two browns fishing a deep-drifting snail fly.

At noon we drove up the valley and into the little recreation park. I parked beneath a large pine tree where we enjoyed lunch. A pair of twittering finches flew nearby. Later we walked to the bridge and gazed at trout in the pool below. We watched the fish dart here and there after nymphs. They stock rainbows here and the kids get to fish them.

Returning home, I settled comfortably in my armchair to read the mail. What a swell outing today I mused. The wonderful sights, the sounds and smells, the animals and the great pleasure of catching those beautiful trout. Think I'll email Billy, Robby and little Katie and tell them all about today. Those kids will want me to take them trouting when they come to La Crosse. And they will come to love this fishing also.

Why I Fish by John Bethke

Second installment in the series.

As I write, it’s a bright, clear morning, Sunday, March 19th; it’s about 16 degrees Fahrenheit and Mike Mallow and I are going fishing around noon. Last Saturday Mike caught a 22+-inch brown and didn’t get a picture, so we are going to try and get the fish on camera since we know exactly where he lives.

Most folks would say it’s not a good day for it but I sure don’t care. It’s not important whether we catch that fish or the others we will likely catch and release. I’ve had a hectic week and I need to go fishing. I’m very pleased to have the opportunity and so many excellent choices of streams to fish.

I also have many friends to fish with. Given my preference for solitude and my increasing crotchety demeanor as I age, it’s a wonder I have friends at all. Fishing is our common bond and companionship can often make a day even better, sometimes not. Fishing to me is both social and antisocial.

It’s my observation that the world is going to hell rather fast. Simple values and civility are being swept aside in favor of growth, development, and the almighty profit. “Screw you, I’m getting mine,” is the prevalent attitude often unspoken but acted out in all walks of life. Fairness, compassion, forgiveness, and self-sacrifice often are put aside as weakness and no way to get ahead. I have lost confidence in our society’s chances of getting better for the average individual. My fishing is my refuge from all the crap I dislike and can’t do much about. It’s my way out of the ugly politics, the incessant competition, disgusting commercial excess, environmental disregard, and general overload of the inconsequential soup of media hype. Then throw in these items, 1. 30 hours to get a month’s worth of work orders done at work; 2. a TU casting clinic and meeting after a hectic 10 hour day; 3. a vacation day to go to Chicago and present a slide show and talk about the great fishing in our area; 4. four hours at the TU booth tying flies and talking to folks at the Onalaska fishing expo about the great fishing in the area; 5. The prospect of starting the UWL Thursday fly fishing class, overloaded to 28 students, wondering if I’ll get much help beyond the usual faithful few. And oh great, another work week in my last year before I retire in hopes that what’s left of my body somehow manages to prosper through what I’ve heard described as the declining years.

If you need cheese with that whining, get it yourself, I’m going fishing!

Top Ten Reasons to Join Coulee Region Trout Unlimited

1. Meet other anglers from the region.
2. Improve your fishing skills.
3. Contribute to the improvement of our local streams.
4. Meet fishing celebrities and authors.
5. Keep informed about new threats to our streams and fishing opportunities.
6. Assist in the education of future anglers.
7. Improve your fly-tying skills.
8. Learn more about bugs than you thought was possible.
9. Catch more trout.
10. Catch bigger trout.

Why I Fish by Rick Kyte

Editor’s Note: Over the next year, the Coulee Region Trout Unlimited Newsletter will feature area anglers answering the question “Why I Fish.” This is the first in the series.

A relative of mine always shakes his head when I say I’m going fishing. He knows I’m talking about trout and he knows that probably means catch and release and he sees no sense in it. For Arnie fishing means keeping—and in the winter, for him, that means fishing for northern pike and eating them.

I don’t find any fault with that. I love to eat fish too, though pickled northern isn’t very high on my list of favorite foods. It’s just that I have lots of other reasons for fishing other than eating them. Besides, if I fished just to eat, I would feel like Ole in that old joke:

Lena: “So, how much did that fishing trip with Sven cost you this year?”

Ole: “Well, let me see, I guess it came out to about $250.”

Lena: “And all you caught was five fish?”

Ole: “Well, you know, at $50 a fish you should be glad we didn’t catch any more!”

The economics of fishing is a depressing subject. It’s a good thing there are other reasons to enjoy our sport.

One reason I fish is because my grandfather used to take me out to all his “secret spots” for bluegill and bullheads. To this day I can’t pick up a fishing pole without thinking of him. It’s one way he stays present to me, twenty years now after his death.
Another reason is the challenge of it. To fish successfully, you have to think like a fish, and that can be a humbling experience. A modest-sized trout has a brain the size of a pea, but it uses all of it. And it usually wins. When you finally do outwit a pea-brain it gives you a surprising boost of confidence. It makes you feel like you could conquer the world, if only you could get that other ninety-five percent of your grey matter to come to attention.

The third reason is adventure. Living in the 21st century is interesting, but it is rarely surprising. When you step foot in a trout stream, however, you never know what’s going to happen. And sometimes it has nothing to do with fish. Like the time I spent an afternoon watching wood ducks in their spring mating rituals, flying up and down Crooked Creek. Or the time a doe and fawn came splashing down Mormon Coulee, so engrossed in their play that they didn’t see me until they came racing into the run I was fishing. If you’ve ever seen deer hooves trying to make a sharp turn on moss-covered rocks, you know why felt-covered soles were invented.

Sometimes it does have to do with fish. Like the time I pulled off the road just to waste fifteen minutes before going back to work. The first cast with a pink squirrel hooked a 17” brown that took a good ten minutes to land. That’s not what I expected on my lunch break, but you just never know.

The final reason is the friendships. Even though fishing, especially fly fishing, is by nature a solitary activity, the friendships that are formed on the basis of a shared passion are deeper than any other. The people I’ve met through TU are genuinely good people—and I know that even though I’ve only fished with a few of them. Anybody who cares for trout and for streams and who wants to make sure both are preserved for the next generation is a person worth knowing better.