My latest essay is out and about.

You can read some teaser text here: http://www.theflyfishjournal.com/issue/4.2/feature/THE-ART-OF-DARKNESS

Buyer of new fly reels beware.

A new fly reel
by: uplock

If you’ve fished Wisconsin’s Driftless Area, then odds are you’ve encountered the pink squirrel in one of its many incarnations, as bumper sticker and t-shirt art (the Driftless Angler of Viroqua), as a made-to-order, amaretto ice-cream concoction (the Olde Towne Inn Supper Club of Westby), or as the fly itself (peek in any spring creek junky’s fly box). While usually regarded as an attractor, trout very likely take this nymph for a pregnant scud (you can read about Driftless scuds in this interview with Wisconsin guide Mat Wagner). But it’s effectiveness is certainly not limited to Wisconsin, or trout–I’ve taken a number of wild Pere Marquette steelhead on this number as well (for those who need to pretend that steelhead discriminate, we’ll say they take it for an egg). Whatever it does or doesn’t represent, it’s fun to tie and tinker with.

1. Hook:      TMC 2457, pink or gold bead to match
2. Tail:          2-3 strands pearl Krystal Flash
3. Body:       Foxtail squirrel, applied via dubbing loop
4. Thorax:  Pink scud dubbing

I was tinkering with some springtime patterns last year and decided to attempt to create a something that engaged everything good I had ever seen in a caddis emerger: sparkle, translucency, movement, color, shape.

The end result was something I call the JUCE (Jacked Ultimate Caddis Emerger) Caddis. Is it unnecessarily time consuming? It is. You could very well take a few (dozen) shortcuts and not miss out on anything. But in its original incarnation it was responsible for some of the most savage strikes I’ve ever experienced swinging wet flies, and I have made myself believe that every step of the process is essential. Besides, everyone should have at least one fly pattern in their box that reeks of magic. This one, with all its steps and ingredients, reaches the level of myth.

1. Hook:     TMC 200R
2. Tail:         Natural snowshoe hare foot fibers
3. Body:      Glass olive beads alternating with natural snowshoe hare foot fibers
4. Wing 1:   Brown partridge feater
5. Collar:    Partridge philoplume
6. Wing 2:  Brown hen hackle fibers

Notes: the snowshoe hare foot fibers should be applied via Gary LaFontaine’s touch-dub method.  Also, since it is impossible to dub over the beads, you must whip-finish and tie of each dubbing segment before moving on to next.

Since the Midwestern heat wave has not abated, I thought I’d fish up some old photos from past springs and summers on the spring creeks.

This photo was taken after catching the year’s first fish on dries–March midges.

Before becoming completely and irrevocably employed, I used to spend early spring catching beautiful spring creek browns. This was the very first fish of the year.

This was the second.

My preferred SW Wisconsin beverage, after brandy old-fashioneds. Beer does get cheaper, but not by much.

A caddis eater from later that trip. Many thanks to Dennis Potter for his tinsel-bodied innovations. They work well into the night.

This place is great for those days when you need fresh poultry and custom flooring at more or less the same time.

Just when you think you’ve reached the upper echelons of trout bum-dom, someone puts you in your place. Wonder if there’s Wi-Fi.

It doesn’t get much prettier than this.

Forecast is hot hot hot for the foreseeable, but with luck I might just head west around the lake in September.

Ah, the Pass Lake: as Wisconsin as Limburger, brandy old-fashioneds, and Friday night fish fries. No fly in my arsenal has accounted for more brook trout. The secret, I believe, is that white shock of calftail. Fished dry, it sails above the film, proud and mighty, while the body sits fetchingly in the film. Fished wet, that same white wing cuts a tantalizing profile.  Dead-drift it, swing it, or strip it.

1. Hook:      TMC 100
2. Tail:         Golden pheasant tail fibers
3. Body:      Peacock herl
4. Wing:      Calftail
5. Hackle:  Brown rooster hackle (to fish dry) or hen hackle (to fish wet)

An eight-day week of swinging flies on the P.M. Wake up, tie flies, swing flies, lose flies, stick steelhead, lose steelhead, rinse, repeat.

Things started out very, very solid. We went out with Jeff Hubbard of Outfitters North. River was low and clear and temps were cold, cold, cold. Fly of the day was a small (size 4) possum head sculpin with just a touch of flash. On the 4th cast of the first day of the trip, a fat winter buck came calling.

We didn’t know it then, but it would go down as the fish of the trip. Great colors, and it fought like a fall fish: full of blaze and glory.

Maxim swung up a nice hen looking to chew some chartreuse.

A few more tugs and one more nice fish lost in a logjam gave me the confidence–and compulsion–to stash my nymph and egg boxes for the week.

This one came on a day the river was blown out and ripping like the devil’s pudding. Had to trade up to gaudy, articulated stuff to find tugs in the churn.

My only regret was that I’d waited until February to start swinging. Can’t wait for next November!

Two days later, the weather warmed up again. I was back on the water, but a different river, a different spot. I had plenty of company.

I staked out my plot and chatted with my upstream neighbor. This is Butch from Alpena. If there were a King of the River, he’d probably wear a hat a lot like Butch’s.

The wait was on, but I was confident. Something in the reeds hinted that I was in the right place.

The bugs did come.

I was soon awarsh.

And into a few good fish.

And another.

I didn’t get my 24-incher, but it was a good day, a fine night. And time for bed.

Having caught a good load of Central Wisconsin fish, I decided to perform the long, slow horse-shoe round the lake to Northern Michigan.

First I tied some flies. A lot of flies, actually.

I drove for 9 hours before the pavement ended and the road to Hexville revealed itself at last.

I got into water and waded upstream until I saw the signs I was looking for.

Night fell. It fell like a Michigan night does: sudden, blue, and cold.

I had foreseen the drop in temps and brought coffee along. But if you’re shivering in your sweater drinking coffee to stay warm at the end of June, odds are it won’t be a bug night.

And it wasn’t. I wandered back to my car cold and alone, hoping for better weather tomorrow.