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)

I recently had a chance to sit down for a little bug talk with my friend Charlie Piette at Tight Lines Fly Shop in DePere, Wisconsin. Charlie is a Wisconsin guide who specializes in Driftless Area spring creeks. I always learn something–usually a lot of things, actually–when I talk to Charlie.

DK: Maybe we can start by defining that term: “terrestrial”. What insects do you put in that category?

CP: When we say ‘terrestrial’ we’re essentially talking about anything not water-born that comes to the water from the land: ants, beetles, grasshoppers, crickets, spiders, caterpillars. The list goes on and on. But the most significant, from the trout angler’s point of view, would be those first four: ants, beetles, grasshoppers and crickets.

DK: And when do you typically start fishing terrestrials?

CP: Boy, it can be April. Really. I’ve I’ve had really great terrestrial fishing in April. All it takes is a few days of consistently sunny weather in the 60s to move ants and beetles. Most people think that terrestrial fishing is July, August, September, but you can really to it–and do it well–much, much earlier in the year. Especially if it’s windy.

DK: OK, so you’re starting in April. Then what? Can you walk us through the seasons?

CP: Sure. As I mentioned, it starts with ants and beetles; if I’m fishing terrestrials, I’m usually fishing those, at least until June or July. Ants stay more or less the same size–between size 16 and 18–but with beetles you can generally increase the size as the season progresses, from a 16 up to a size 10 or 12 by midsummer. There are a LOT of different beetle species out there. And some, like junebugs, can get pretty big.

Once you get into August and onward, hoppers and crickets start to become really important—not that you can’t use them earlier. But once August and September rolls around, yeah, hoppers can really be fun.

DK: When you’re fishing terrestrials are you generally “hatch-matching” or looking for a more general representation?

CP: I tend toward terrestrial patterns that are more general looking—-patterns that could look like a lot of different things. I like foam flying ant patterns a lot because they can represent an ant, a small cricket, a beatle, even a dark caddis.

Of course, there are time when you will run into a real true, hatch-match type situation: flying ants for example. If you happen to be on the water with fly ants, well, you’re very lucky. Certain meadow situations also call for something more exact. If I start to get refusals I’ll look closely at the hoppers along the bank. But a lot of time general is the way I’ll go.

DK: How are you presenting these patterns?

CP: Low in the film. I can’t emphasize that enough. Certain hopper patterns float really, really high in the water—I don’t like them at all, except in seriously broken water. If you watch a real hopper in the water it’s a sad sight—they’re struggling and they’re partially sunk most of the time. Hoppers that sit low in the film just work a lot better for me. The same goes for ants and beetles.

Speaking of fishing low in the film, one thing not to shy away from is sunk terrestrial patterns—-especially sunken ants. A lot of the time I will fish a larger hopper pattern with a sunken ant as a dropper. It can be really effective.

DK: Is there a particular mistake you see people making when fishing terrestrials?

CP I think people need to be careful of fishing really large terrestrials in low water, which you have a lot of in late summer. A big splat out in slow, clear water often does more harm than good. In those situations something smaller, lighter and softer is generally going to catch you more fish–especially since most everyone else will be throwing really big, splatting flies. If you really look at the hoppers along the bank, most of them are in the range of a size 12 to size 8. You don’t often see them much bigger than that.

I find myself downsizing more often than not, especially in heavily pressured water. When everyone’s out throwing hoppers, “something different” usually means: lose the rubber legs, lose the flash, and downsize. The classic Letort hopper is a great late-summer, low-water pattern to throw.

DK: A lot of people associate terrestrials–particularly hoppers–with big fish. Do you have a favorite big-fish terrestrial?

CP: Actually, I’ve found that terrestrials don’t have to be big to take big fish. Maybe it goes along with that theory that trout really develop a taste for them–the crunch and the flavor. But I’ve caught a lot of good fish on ants and beetles.

DK: So we’ve covered spring and summer. How deep into the year do you typically fish terrestrials?

CP: Here in the Midwest, that really depends on when we get frost. The end of September– when you have warm days but cold nights–can be great because the hoppers just get super dopey, and they’ll try to fly but their metabolism just hasn’t warmed up enough. They’ll be crash-landing all over the place and the fish are really on them then. But in a given year I’ll fish hoppers well into October.

DK: Last question. Surprise us with something we don’t know.

CP: Alright. You might be surprised that I start carrying ants and beetles in my fly box at the end of March. Yes, March. That’s because at that time of the year you’ll be spending a lot of time fishing hatches of olives or midges, and sometimes you just cannot get the right fly. In those situations, when you have fish that are rising but just ignoring your imitation, ants and beetles can work surprisingly well. The same goes for tricos later in the season–any smaller bug, really. It can often be the difference between beating your head against the wall and catching fish.

If you’d like to arrange a guided trip on Soutwestern Wisconsin’s spring creeks, visit Tight Lines Fly Shop or send an email to tytlinez@aol.com.

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.