Look What the Lure Dragged In...

They say (whoever they are) that there are two kinds of fishermen, those that fish for sport and those that catch something. Fortunately, we happen to be a mix of both. But as RiverBums, fishing is more than a sport and catching fish. It's about hope. Hoping that there is a smallie hiding beside the boulder, hoping there is a northern in the weeds waiting to pounce on that torpedo, hoping that the skies stay blue and the water stays clear. It takes years of practice to hope the way a RiverBum hopes. A day of fishing may never end because we are too afraid to turn back, thinking we may be missing the best spot just up river. "Ok, just a little bit further, "Dad'll say. "Ya, just until that next boulder, then we'll turn back." AC will respond. Minutes later, maybe a fish was caught maybe not. It is time to turn back, but not until a RiverBum says, "Ok, just one more wade, up until that boulder. I swear last time, just once more..." Hope, my friends, that's the difference between a Bum and a RiverBum.


Saturday- Day 1

And we were full of hope as we packed up and roadtripped a good 7 hours Saturday morning to northern Wisconsin to discover what the Bois Brule River had in stock for us. It was 4am when we crossed the border into Wisconsin and pitch dark. However, there was plenty of light coming from the 3 massive storms that swirled around us. Systems were closing in, coming from the south and west. It was quite a lightning show, but it turned dangerous when we had to drive through it. We powered through the storms until clear skies broke around 8 am. Our hopes were still high as we checked a local rest stop radar map to see that the northern most half of Wisconsin was storm free.

After filling up on water and gas at the local shop in Brule, Wisconsin, we drove up and down alongside the river, searching for access points and information on the Bois Brule. Oh and did we discover good information or what? 5 of our nation's presidents have fished the Brule; Ulysses Grant, Grover Cleveland, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover, and Dwight D. Eisenhower. And apparently, our current president had fished here as well, as we discovered a red coffee can full of night crawlers. The source of the Bois Brule is Lake Superior so there is a great mix of steelhead, brook, brown, and rainbow trout.

One of hundreds of kayakers in the Bois Brule

Now, you may be looking at the picture above and thinking, "Wow, what a beautiful river!." Ya, that's what we thought. But, take a closer look at this picture. A little closer, a little closer. THERE! Do you see it? Yes, my friends, that is a kayaker. As you already know, we loathe people. And kayakers are people with kayaks. And people with kayaks don't mix well with trout that are easily scared off as they come paddling 40 mph down the river, paddles flailing, trash flying, and voices screaming.  And just so you are clear, this is just one of the 800 kayakers that crossed our lines. Granted, this is one of the most popular rives in the US and most popular in the summer time for boaters. And while we were annoyed by the colorful floaters invading our peaceful wade into the Bois, there didn't seem to be any fish to scare away. Dad did catch a brook trout about an hour in, but that was all she wrote about our 4 hour bum in the Bois Brule. The truth is, the trout aren't hitting yet and the steelies don't really get hot until October. The lake run fish haven't come in yet. So despite the lack of fish and invasion of kayakers, we vouched to visit the Bois Brule in the Fall and we are determined to have more tails for you then...As it started to rain, again, we headed out in search of a hotel in Hayward. 

A cute touristy town, we arrived in Hayward later than expected and had to stay at this cheap Americinn motel that only allowed hookers in. Which only meant that one of the RiverBums had to put on a cheap facade to get us in. So, Dad pulled on his tube top and daisy dukes and we had found a room in no time. We then walked to the nearest piggly wiggly, grabbed a six pack of Red Lager Leinenkugels, a salad, a samich, and called it a night. Oh and before we forget..YOU, ya you, the host who checked us in! Ya, we're talking to you. After informing us that we couldn't use the computer, we couldn't have extra towels, and we couldn't find a decent restaurant or church around we would like to formally never invite you to come fishing with us. You have been Bum listed!

Fishing for a Sponsor, we SINK this is a good way to do it!

(when there is no fridge, the sink is runner-up)

Sunday- Day 2

After mass at St. Joseph's in town, we headed to the Hayward Fly Fishing Co. This quaint but great little fly fishing shop is full of awesome river gear and information on local rivers. They also offer river guides where novice to expert fishermen can experience the best Musky fishing around! We met the owner Larry and he gave us some great access points for the Namekagon river just a few miles away. AC picked up a new pair of fly tying magnifying glasses since she is getting old and we set out for the Namekagon

After a quick breakfast at "The Restaurant" (Yes, that was the name of the place!) we headed out to fish the Namekagon river. This river is a tributary of the St. Croix river in which the RiverBums have fished before about 2 years prior. Unlike the jagged and bouldery bottom of the St. Croix, the Namekagon has a sandy bottom and is much easier to wade. This type of terrain is ideal for muskies and we hear (from Larry) that this river is one of the best smallie rivers in the Midwest. 

Upon our arrival at our first Namekagon access point we ran into officials in search of some fishing identification...

Checking Fishing Licenses!

In Dad's 56 years of fishing this was Dad's 2nd time having his license checked and AC's first!

(Ok, you got us! We paid this guy to purchase the outfit and stand there and pose!)

After an A-OK from ranger Roy, we waded into the Namekagon. Within 20 minutes of casting, Dad landed a smallie and seconds later AC landed one too in the same pool with twisty tail lures on orange jigs...

First Smallie in the Namekagon

The RiverBums waded further up river. With a temperature of 55 degrees, the water was quite cool and after 4 hours of just 2 smallies caught, our hopes of catching more of this summer dwelling species seemed dismal. As we were about to turn back, Dad felt something tugging at his wader boot. He reached his hand down to see what it was and pulled up quite a surprise. A 6 foot long rope dangled from his hand and attached on the other side was a northern...

Northern Caught Us!

Some BoatBum had this poor fella tied to the end of a rope and was, what we can only imagine, trolling his catches tied behind him . The drunken bastard didn't seem to tie his rope tightly enough to the boat as it came loose and all the fish swam away. However, this Northern was strung through the gill pretty well as there was a knot blocking him from escaping his stringy prison. But that's not all! Yes my friends, we would like to introduce you to the Dun DUn DUN... Lamprey Eel...

The Lamprey Eel makes Saddam and Gaddafi look pretty!

These blood sucking leeches attach themselves to the bodies of fish and suck the life out of them. And, once that fish is dead, they move on to the next one. These are the same chum swindlers that plagued Lake Michigan and sent thousands of fresh water fish to their swampy graves and destroyed the populations in almost every great lake in the US. So, what do you do when you run into an evil Lamprey Eel sucking on a fish in the river? Get out your pliers, pull the damn thing off, get out your knife and chop off it's head. Simple yet effective! Knife is to Eel as garlic is to vampire as silver bullet is to werewolf, as fire is to Frankenstein monster, as cheese is to the lactose intolerant, and as a male strip joint is to Charlie Sheen...let us stop there...

MMMmm, Sushi!

After finishing up at the Namekagon, we waded out with a count of 2 smallies, 1 Northern, and 1 Lamprey Eel. Ok so with the fall tiptoeing in, we knew this river would be sans smallies than usual. But Hey! At least we have a cool story to tell and we told it!

So as it started to rain, again, we packed up and visited the local Musky Farm! Where we saw the largest musky of all time...But, since it cost more to touch it, the RiverBums enjoyed it's splendor from the other side of the fence, Bum style all the way...

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Boat!

We ran into a local Irishman playing fetch with his dog. He would throw this buoy far out into the river and his lass retriever would run out after it. Turns out his dog's name was Limey cause he was English and the Irishman believed that all Englishmen should be referred to as Limey. That and his dad was a marine in WWII who fought alongside the English and always referred to his friendly allies as Limeys. Wow, it's nice to see that an Englishman can be subservient to an Irishman for once. We were so impressed that we decided to take his picture. Although we didn't quite catch the mick's name we think he looked like an old Duffy O'Doherty and we're sticking with that me lads and lassies!

Duffy O'Doherty the Irishman and his BonnieLass Limey!

RiverDog all the way!

Monday- Day 3

Since we had an extra day and we ran out of planned rivers to visit, we decided to trek to our favorite river... the ********** (Sorry, hafta kill ya)

After a quick breakfast of nuts, fruit and coffee (Oh my!) we arrived at our never-lets-us-down river. We did a little exploring as it was only 7am and still too early for smallies to start hitting. We visited new access points to the river and discovered a cool suspension bridge tucked within a mile or so hike of forest to the river...

View of the River from Suspension Bridge

Karate RiverBum on a Suspension Bridge

After a bit of frolicking around the river, we drove on to fish a new access point...

Although the temperature never reached higher than 50 degrees we were still hopeful for smallies. This  particular access point had great parking (Which is rare near great rivers...New York isn't the only place famous for lacking this) and there was a cleared path that followed down to the water. Bundled up and packed down we waded on and were surprised to discover the water was quite warm. This made us more hopeful and we began casting away...Would the RiverBums catch smallies this late in the summer? Would AC be able to handle the cold temperatures without whining and crying like a girl???...

AC with a smallie in 45 degree weather!

"Dad and Smallie sittin in the river...F-I-S-H-I-N-G..."

The only smallie on top water!

Dad with a smallie smallie!

AC hooked up with a smallie!

(That's what happens to a single girl who fishes, she gets too involved with the fish :)

Ok, so there was no whining and crying, but there were quite a few smallies. Despite the cool air temperatures, the water stayed warm which in turn, allowed us to RiverBum away. It turned out to be another great smallie trip on the ******* river. We were also able to explore the Bois Brule and Namekagon. And be sure to tune in around late fall as we for surely plan to visit these rivers again when the steelhead are running and the trout are HOT!

Oh and before we sign off...last week we hinted at some possible video footage. Well, RiverBums always deliver and so please take the time to view just a few seconds of Dad landing a smallie on top water below. We apologize for the rough footage and shortage in film, but hey, we're fishing here! It's not like Spielberg stops to fish when he's filming people! 

Now that's exciting! So, we hear Wisconsin is supposed to be sunny and clear this weekend...you know what that means? You don't mind if we end here right? Cause we gotta put new line on the rods as we are expecting to reel in the lunkers. Until next time, we'll see ya on the other side of the river...

Cast Away,

AC & Dad

There are Bigger Fish to Fry...

As fall approaches, the Riverbums begin to feel the cool water against their waders, the mosquitoes diminish, and their allergies peak. And with double doses of claritin comes the double doses of casting. We took a note from Donna Summer and 'worked hard for the smallies...so hard for them...so hard for the smallies...so you better treat em right...'

Oh and did we treat em right. We treated those smallies to a dinner and a show. Yes my friends, the main coarse consisted of rapacious steel coated treble hooks dangling from a traditional torpedo delicacy. And for the show... 'Ladies and gentlemen, back again for the 4th time in their summer long sold-out tour...please welcome, a couple of casting outcasts, a pair of plugs, the best deuce of downstream drifters, the cast RiverBums!!!'

Ok so as much as we would like, the river isn't as glamorous as we might tale about. But, we did put on a show of excellent casting and lure maneuvering. So despite the less amount of smallies and increase in casts made, we now have bigger biceps and one hell of an impressive casting chronicle of smallie success...

One of many Rapid Sets in the River

With clarion clear waters and blue skies, it was easy for us to shuffle through the rapids. This was our second time in this particular part of the *********** river (Sorry, hafta kill ya) in a good 4 years. We quickly came to realize why we had only inhabited that part once before and never returned. Of course, the mind of a RiverBum is so advanced and endowed, that it doesn't surprise how much information may slip us from time to time. Now you wonder why we leave the rest of the world to work and support the US economy while we fish away our days here on Earth. We had to give the rest of humanity a chance of course...

But, despite our judicious ways, we didn't catch one smallie until hours after bumming this beautiful yet barren area of the river. Out-fished, out-rafted, and out of luck we headed back up river after 3 hours and 2 smallies. After reaching the banks, we stowed the rods in the trunk and hopped in the car, sopping waders and all. It was a 15 minute drive to the next spot on the map...

*A quick note about our maps: There are many access points for fishermen along this river and we wouldn't be able to experience them all without the 2004 edition DeLORME Atlas and Gazetteer of Wisconsin. We have been too cheap and busy to pick up the latest edition, but trust us, not many roads are being constructed in the outbacks of good ole Wisconsin. So I thin we are good for the next decade or so.

AC's first catch of the day!

(Caught up in the line after a high-strung rapids clash)

Dad's first catch of the day!

(Lookin all Gangsta Bum with the hat on backwards)

Grabbing the rods from the trunk and trekking to a familiar spot on our river gave us hope for bigger smallies. The last time we had visited this popular spot of ours was in early July and the water was high and cloudy. This time around, with a DNR reported water level of 7.64 and a clear view of the bottom, we were hoping to spank them on top water. Although many of the usual pools were shallower than usual, we still found smallies hiding down under. However, we did find luck in the weeds, where structure below the water (like a shelf) would meet the weed line. Smallies like the one below were masters of this weedy domain...

Nice Smallie hiding in the weeds behind AC

And the topwater begins!

(Dad with a Smallie caught on yellow/green torpedo)

Of course, once the top water began, it was all fun casting from there. We retired our twisty tails and jigs and worked the plastic torpedoes. As we crossed a flats area, Dad and AC picked up the pace as they had usually never caught anything here. However, as Dad trekked on, AC felt like a challenge and waded to the center of the river. Casting across to the other side, she saw a fallen tree trunk that provided ample structure and harboring for the smallies. So with a healthy cast, AC whipped the torpedo upriver towards the base of the fallen tree. Then she allowed the lure to drift down river, alongside and just an inch from the tree, making sure not to get hooked along the wood. Maintaining form, she jerked the rod every 3 seconds as  the torpedo drifted along as to seduce the smallie into hitting. As the lure past the tip of the tree, AC felt a tiny hit. Thinking this was a minnow with a set of eyes bigger than it's stomach, she began to reel. But then another hit came as the lure was making it's way along the flats. So AC stopped reeling and let the torpedo sit. Then like a seen out of jaws, with only the sounds of the rapids, AC made a quick jerk and the lunker smallie hit in a split second. He took the lure down and raced back towards the tree. But it was too late for that, her rod bent as she set the hook and AC reeled in the lunker...

AC with the prize of the day!

(A great cast, goes a long way! Notice the fallen tree in the background...)

As RiverBumssmallies waiting for top water, but if you trek too far into the pool, you'll slip on the shelf and fall on your ASS. So, it was only fair that we name this hot spot "Crazy-Ass Pool." And on this particular day, Dad was master "Crazy-Ass." Or as our friend Yoda would say, "Crazy-Ass you are, fish it you must...."

A Beautiful tiger patterened smallie

(Caught in our famous "Crazy-Ass Pool")

The fiesty smallie that had AC fighting in the weeds

AC with the finally subdued smallie

As you may already know, the RiverBums have special powers. And while we aren't seen on the streets of Gotham city or NYC engaging in web-spinning and cap crusading whilst saving lives, we are doing something as equally, if not more, important! Anyone can twirl in a phone booth, but it takes a real super bum to make a fish walk on water...

Don't believe us? Well then, you haven't heard of Tail-walking. Yes, my friends, we said it, Tail-walking...

Tail-Walking : Ta·il Wa·lk·ing ( T-ä"-il, Wá-lk-ing)

1. The moment when a fish's tail flips & flops along the surface of the water whilst being reeled in by a fishing rod.

2. A motion of muscles and use of fishing equipment that creates the illusion of objects defying gravity.

*3. A Supernatural feet of commanding a fish to walk on water by way of telepathic power from the mind of an almighty and all-powerful RiverBum super hero.

Ok, so for all you "doubters" out there. Yes, it may look as if the way the fish is being reeled in and it's excitement level that it propels itself out of the water and flops it's tail back and forth to create a moment of water-walking. But, you're wrong, it's a super power. And although we support the campaign of "believing is seeing"... feel free to indulge in a little seeing and believe...

A RiverBum Tailwalking in a Catch!

Dad with a LARGEmouth!

Last view of the river before another week of work, sweat, and tears...

Although the RiverBums have bigger fish to fry, we appreciate the days where perfect casts, hard reeling, and conquesting bumming pays off! So, it's on to Northern Wisconsin for this Labor Day Weekend to fish the famous Bois Brule. Oh and we hear the blog will have some new "programming" available for you next week. But, I guess you will just have to "watch" and see... 

Until next time...we'll see ya on the other side of the river...

Cast Away,

AC & Dad

Good things come to those who bait...

As Dad has informed you (See last blog post), our expeditions don't flow as smoothly as many rivers do. We run into mischievous critters, forgetful minds, slow currents, tough times, and bad weather. For the past two weeks, the Riverbums have been burdened with work responsibilities, paid conferences, thunderstorms, and Saturdays spent doing taxes...we shiver at the thought. CAUTION: Separation from the river may cause: Anxiety, daydreaming, chest pains, fatigue, dryness, size distortion, depression and then death. Avoid work and responsibilities at all costs. Treatment: FISH!

Well my friends, that's just what we did. After a 2 week hiatus, the Riverbums found themselves in their favorite river for a whole weekend. And did we deserve it or what! After all, nothing like a well deserved reward after a ill-defying delay of riverbumming.

Day 1- Saturday...

View of the river from the Bridge

An old railroad track was converted into this bridge used by local farmers and the DNR. As Riverbums, we used this opportunity to trek out of the water and hike up to get a better view of the river.

Old Railroad track turned into a bridge

Clear skies, strong casts, and feisty smallmouth made this Saturday, one to remember. We left home at 3:30 in the morning and made our favorite habitual road trip to the ********** river (Sorry, hafta kill ya) The smallies started hitting at 10 am sharp as Dad reeled in a decent 2 pounder on a yellow twisty tail. With an early temperature of 65 degrees, we were worried the water would be too cool for smallies today. An indication of fall coming with cool mid-August temperatures. However, smallies can bear cooler water temperatures better than largemouth bass. The trick to catching smallies in cooler river water is to cast that lure in the "perfect spot". When the water is cooler, the smallies tend to stick closer to their hiding spots...under a lingering log, below a large boulder, inside the weeds. Therefore, they are less likely to come out after their food as they are too cold to chase it. So, we must cast right on top of them and force them to hit the lure immediately. But, that was just what made today even better, with perfect casts resulting in perfect hits.

AC with a nice smallie in the river tributary

(Perfect picture pose-may we add)

Dad with a fiesty smallie

(Notice the cigar...fish cannot be caught until Dad lights a cigar!) :)

AC's catch from the exact boulder seen behind her 

(Smallie was hiding in the shaded area below the boulder-Gotcha!)

Dad with a smallie hit on torpedo lure

AC's last smallie of the day was a lunker

(Always good to end on a FAT note!) AC says we never catch them here

Dad casting an exciting pool with 7 smallies

The photo seen above is a perfect example of a successful day of Riverbumming. We would trek from pool to pool, stopping to fish an area until the hitting ceased. Large boulders, like the one seen above, give us the opportunity to see spots more easily from up high to notice where there are logs, weeds, and hidden boulders. This particular pool was quite the jackpot as the smallies were hitting both top water and twisty tail lures. AC was reeling the lunkers in from deep in the pools with twistys as Dad was snatching the feisty ones on top with torpedoes. All in all, this pool produced 7 smallies.

An onlookers view of a focused RiverBum

(Nice Bass)

Dad displaying the double catch!

Every once and a while, the Riverbums display expert reeling and showmanship. Now, you may be thinking, "How can these Bums be experts?" Yes, we don't have a fisherman's show on the Outdoor Channel... YET and we aren't trademarked...YET and we don't have a blog that displays our fantastic catches and facts and... wait, we DO have that! But, as evidence of the picture above, there is that rare instance where AC and Dad catch smallies simultaneously, side-by-side, lines cross, fish entangle and a double catch is produced. It is a moment only really truly experienced, by seeing it first hand. Imagine both bums cast in opposite directions, both lines tightens, and both rods bend at the same time... pure fishing perfection... in double the dose! Yes my friends the Riverbums have a pair of fish, a dualistic dual, twofold fins, two of a kin, spitting image spitters, copy catfish, simulacrum chum, Gemini net-full, binary bait ... quick someone stop me from punning before I double over! 

Whew, that was close. So at the end of the day, we found ourselves 45 smallies richer and 100% happier than we had been in weeks. 4 pm rolled around and we realized we had trekked a good couple miles and still had to head back... UP river! After making it to the car, we de-waded, stripped off our boots and headed out in search of lodging. 

After settling into our hotel, we caught the Saturday evening mass at the local church, thanked God for our humble abode of smallies and good casts, and went to the best restaurant in town... The Refuge...

Guess what we ate for dinner? 

Day 2-Sunday...

RiverBums. Please be courteous and remember that there are bums out there who wake up at the crack of dawn to fish and they would appreciate a hot cup of joe. That brings us to the next order of business, Thank you to the Mobile Gas Station for providing 24 hours of service and hot coffee at any time of the morning. We appreciate your coffee serving skills and hope to visit you soon.

Dad's first smallie of the day

(Caught on top water-this one sucked the lure down and zig-zagged 

under and around a log-great fight!)

AC's color coordinated Riverbumming ensemble

(She did not plan this- thats just how good she is!)

Dad doing the RiverBum Squat Pose - Pure Skill!

"And next... on the balancing boulder..The amazing RiverBum!"

Sunday turned out to be just as beautiful and bountiful as Saturday. We tried a new part of the river that had a terrain that gave us a run for our waders. We first encountered rapids, which took us a while to navigate through. Rapids can be treacherous to our equipment. Wear and tear against boulders can create long-term damage to our waders and boots. Therefore it is important to have high-polarized sunglasses that allow you to see easier in the water. However, the river was very clear and lower than usual, so it was easier for us to see where we were going. Placement of our boots is very important as sometimes the River plays tricks on us. Muck can easily be mistaken for sand. As we say on the river, "One step in muck and you're Fu..." Well you get the idea! But in between the rapids, there were areas of "flats," with boulders and deep pools. These areas provide good fishing and smallie habitat. Many of the rapids were too difficult to wade and that's when we take to Bush Wacking (See Bush Wacking in the RiverBum dictionary)

Bush Wacking : Bu·sh Wa·ck·ing ( B-ü-sh, Wá-ck-ing)

1. The act of walking through the woods.

2. A means of alternate navigation with an existence of unnavigable rapids.

*3. Being dragged through the woods by one's crazy father whilst being eaten alive by bugs and bears.

However, Bush Wacking can be fun. We sometimes encounter strange artifacts that would not be otherwise seen on the river.... like this...

Fonzie called, he wants his canoe back

Unfortunately, we encountered many rafters on this particular day and it seems to destroy our illusion of fantasy that we are alone in this river. We come upon pieces of trash, sandals, and beer cans left over from rafting rascals that don't understand the concept of "Pack in, Pack out." Here is proof that we aren't alone in the river...

Evidence of a Drowned Rafter...Justice Prevails

But our favorite encounters, are those of the creepy crawling kind... like this guy...

AC's curious snapping turtle... who wants to lose a finger?

Of course, this week's entry couldn't end with a picture of a tiny turtle. No, my friends, that's why we will end this week with a photo of the largest smallie caught this weekend. The lunker award goes to AC for landing this guy 25 yards away, on torpedo with a perfect cast that ricocheted off a rock and landed into the mouth of this week's best fish... You go RiverBum Bitch!

And to end the day: AC's 6 lb. Smallie! That's all folks, Drive home safe!

Until next time, we'll see ya on the other side of the river...

Cast away,

AC & Dad

A fisherman's tale: A note from Dad...

And now, some enlightened drifting by Dad...

Interpreted from pictures by those on the outside, the life of a Riverbum appears glamorous, tranquil and Jerimia Johnsonishly romantic; with flowing clear rivers dotted with eagles, bears and camouflaged fawns. But it is not, my dear friends, the life depicted by our cameras.

Behind the scenes lies the harsh world of wilderness river fishing and the endless task of painting the studio facade that blankets the Riverbum Blog with the intentional allusion of a sportsman's garden of Eden. Each trip begins by leaving home base four hours before the sun rises and as always in our attempt to reach the rental car from the front door, we find ourselves running the "Wally" gauntlet. Which entails dodging the ever present suburban sniper yard skunk "Wally" who lives for the opportunity to spray a groggy eyed Riverbum . Of course this ritual never fails to invoke the words, "Is that our dark Italian roast Starbucks coffee we smell leaking or frick'n Wally again missing with a long range squirter missile?" Fortunately, for the Riverbums, Wally has not been with a lady skunk in over a decade and as a result has developed a severe case of swollen prostate causing the old boy to fire with the accuracy of a frenchman due to his faulty stink sack sprayer. Wally is such a bad shot that a majority of his ammo falls fruitlessly right back onto Wally rendering him much like the crocodile in Peter Pan, but instead of "tick, tick, tick" it's "stink, stink, stink." After successfully reaching the car and doing a last second self-sniffing body check before entering (just in case Wally got a lucky shot off), we silently close the car doors taking care not to wake the neighbors. Especially the "Captain" whose shot is on the way other end of the Wally/Frenchman spectrum. Note to blog reading burglars; if the skunk and the vicious cattle dogs don't get ya... the Army Captain WILL!

And then we're off! Hitting the road, the IPod, the accelerator...the Break!?! Damn it! Forgot the frick'n coffee, or my wallet, or my fishing hat, or my glasses, or the tub of lures (no I left the tub of lures on the top of the trunk with the extra line and they fell off a block after pulling out of the driveway). Shit! I'm an idiot and now I have to run back (past Wally who's now humping a deflated dog chewed soccer ball) and into the house for whatever...

To be continued...


Cast Away,


Dad

Fishmorgasbord! Greedy Glutton

Day 1: Saturday

Let's be honest, the RiverBums aren't perfect. Sure, we are fantastic anglers with striking good looks and people so desperately want to be us. But, we have our flaws. Dad is a cornucopia of useless trivia and AC can talk the ear off a red eye talk radio host. But they share one common flaw that ensues within all fishermen: Greed! Yes, that giant green vice that lines our hearts with every cast, catch, and confidence that  there may be... No...there IS a fish. We like to lie to ourselves and pretend that this is more of a virtue than anything.  A bright prospect, a bit of blue sky, high expectations, a prize in the cracker jack box. HOPE! That feeling of having to cast once more, just one more time. Cause you never know what you may be wading past, walking by, and missing! Well, that's where our journey began this weekend. Let's hope you will be just as blown away as we were...

Best Billboard in Milwaukee!

Driving past this bass at 5 in the morning was a sign (pun intended) that we were headed for a great weekend of smallie fishing. The weather was clear (or so the weather man predicted) and our hopes were high as always. Dad brought up the point that most lipsticks contain fish scales (useless, as always) and AC imitated just about everyone that drove past and how they each resembled their own car. It was a typical RiverBum road trip.

We arrived at the river around 8am and were casting by 8:30. In the past, we would be in the river by 6 am or earlier. However, we have learned that river smallies don't start really hitting until 10:30 or so. Since smallies are warm-blooded fish, they require a decent amount of sunshine and heat until they start smacking the shit out of our lures or anything for that matter. Sure, you will get a few hits early on but why waste time. Our advice: Save the greed for a later time! Guessing the exact time the smallies start hitting like Evander Holyfield has become a classic RiverBum game. Do you watch Antiques Roadshow? Of course you do, it's the best guessing game show on TV. That and trying to guess which chick on the View is a man... our bet is Sharon! In all seriousness, we take guessing smallie hits just as importantly as we do guessing the price of any roadshow pot or Picasso. And on this particular Saturday, with a peak of 86 degrees early on, 10:30 was the golden cast.

Smallie with a belly full of crawdads!

Stick with yellow twisty tails in this river and you will go far. With about 30 smallies under our wader belts in just 3 hours we were beyond satisfied...and yet...greedy for more. Average size was 4 pounds and rarely did we get a hit from anything less than 3 pounds. Each smallie was light colored brown with bronze and copper tips in the fins and tail, as most of the river we had waded up until that point was shallow with foot deep pools. River was at a DNR reported level of 7.83. The added inches increased the height within the pools and in turn increased the hits. Although we stuck to the pools, the shelves coming off the shores proved most effective as well.  The clear blues skies turned into pillowy skies as the pure white clouds came rolling in. The winds picked up and we welcomed the cool breeze coming in from the Northwest. We waded on, unaware of what was coming...or more like unaccepting. 

AC taking a break from the heat

The casting was non-stop, the fish were abundant and the greed was high. Dad noticed the clouds coming in and AC felt the winds squall harder. The temperature dropped drastically and a cool chill ran down the fastened backpacks of the RiverBums. Our hopes began to drop with our stomachs and our bumming looked doomed to become a bummer. But, not until Dad said, "One more pool" and we waded a bit further, ignoring the changing tides and the storm rolling in. 

So, we began to fish this new pool, unchartered territory of the water, farther than we had gone on this part of the river. We were ready for lunkers. And just as our hope had begun to run out, AC landed four smallies in a row under 10 minutes. This enticed Dad to cast at the other end of the pool, where there was an eddy (Where fast water meets slow water to create a whirlpool like image) and his line was hooked. At first we thought he was stuck on a boulder, but soon our minds were changed and realized this was the lunker of the day. And quite possibly of the trip...

Dad's 7 pound Smallie!!!

Yes, the photos above are proof that the greedy glutton of a fishermen is an asset that should not be tampered with. This was the largest smallie we have caught in this river and the largest of the summer! Dad took a good couple minutes to reel this baby in as it was pulling out drag and darting to the other side of the river. There is nothing better than a fight with a smallie in a river. They are fierce when the sun is high and most fun when they zig zag by boulders. We had hit the jackpot, the mother of all pools, the big kahuna. We caught close to 20 in just that one pool and waded there for a good hour in hopes of more. The Bongo (which means biggest) award went to Dad on this particular Saturday and it was well deserved. Yes, that day had turned into a great day, until of course it was too late.

Well my friends, take it from us, Greed can only pay off for so long. For just as our smorgasbord of ecstasy had begun, lightning struck, thunder was heard, and the hail began. Dad had realized it was too late, grabbed AC by the wader strap and there began our 2 mile wade (or shall we say sprint) back to safety. The sky turned black and we had to take our *** sunglasses off to see where we were going. The temperature dropped from 90 to 70 in less than than 10 seconds and the winds were blowing a steady 70 MPH. We kept our rods low and turned off the cell phone in hopes of fooling the lightning. Dad held on to AC like she was the biggest catch of the day. Dragging her back with the current, concerned of what was coming. Yes my friends, you would be scared too if you saw a Tornado heading your way...

It started hailing and the rain began to fall. In less than 5 minutes of trekking through the water we were soaked and quickly realized we were not going to make it back in time. Then a huge bolt of lightning struck behind us and we knew we had to enter the forest. We were worried. This area had been hit by many tornadoes in the past and the cover was quite lacking. So, we had to trek further down the river to find the proper access point into the forest. Dad grabbed AC's (lightning) rod as we stuck close to the shore. Finally we found an opening and thank God cause that was when we heard the sounds of what seemed like a train engine and knew something behind us was on our trail.

We stowed our rods by a tree close to the river and trekked on ahead deep into the forest, making sure we could still see a bit of the river. Here's a tip: if you have to head into the forest, stay close to the river or else you will be shacking up in that lovely place for quite a while. Hope you bring trail mix! Cause we sure didn't. Which brings us to the next game: How We Want To Die. In this corner: Avoid lightning by crouching under a tree that might fall on us. And in this corner: Avoid a tree falling on us by sitting closer to the river and get struck by lightning. Decisions, Decisions. We went with door number 1 and hid under a dead tree as lightning began striking all over. There we were, crouched down shivering in the forest, soaking, covered in spiders, and dodging bolts. The wind was blowing trees in every direction and we watched in horror as the black sky swirled and spun. 

Dad and AC fell silent and listened to the storm, praying and hoping for survival. Would this be the end of the RiverBums? Or worse, would a tree fall and crush their rods? The horror, oh the horror!

Alas, not even a tornado could destroy the RiverBums or their rods. An hour passed and the storm finally cleared. We emerged from the forest, wet, a bit shaken, but greedy none the less. Although there remained a steady rain, we fished our way back, catching 6 more before safely returning to our car. We guess the lessons learned here are... weather men get paid too much to lie, spiders bite, and greed is good. Oh so good!

Dad landing fish in the rain.

Day 2- Sunday

The camp sites were too wet and buggy to bare, so we shacked up Saturday night in a hotel. It was quite a sight for the hotel management staff to see us galavanting in our wet clothes carrying our just as soaked packs, waders, and boots through the lobby. "Could we get some towels, please?" was the first thing out of Dad's mouth as AC went to check the weather for Sunday on the public computer. We had found out that night that a tornado did hit just a mile north of us and that it was a miracle we survived. As Yoda would say, Survived we did, dry we must, and sleep we should for fishing is to be done there is tomorrow.

Packs drying in Hotel closet- Thank you Best Western!

Waders Freshening in the Shower!

Sunday we woke up to hear the good news of clear skies and dry weather. Of course, how long would that last? So we grabbed our gear and headed for the local catholic church for the only mass. Sitting in church, we were sure to thank God for watching over us and our rods throughout the storm. As AC was bowing her head, she looked to her left and discovered yet another sign... and this one was clearly from God...

Stain Glass Sign (from God) in Church

Yes my friends, the almighty man doesn't get any clearer than that. So we finished up our hail marys and rushed to the river on God's orders. The great thing about the ********** river (Sorry, would have to kill ya) is that there are many access points. However, this can also mean more people and as you know, people are one of our greatest fears. So, we quickly dressed and made our way down to the river. Now, this particular stretch has more rapids than we usually encounter. In between sets of rapids were deep, wide pools but only giving off a few smallies at a time. We discovered that the smaller smallies stuck to the rapids as their bodies took less amount of energy to heat up. However, the lunkers were found deep in the pools as their massive size cannot take the energy-sucker of the rapids which therefore would force them to eat twice as much.

The first pool we encountered was quite dull, but AC was able to land this baby on her 20th cast...

We found a path that ran along the river which allowed us to avoid the difficult wade up river through the rapids. As much as we enjoy riverbumming, our waders cannot take all of the bump and grinding against logs and boulders. So, we trekked on hard earth for a while and encountered some stormy aftermath...

Tornado Tree

(Glad we didn't hide under this one!)

As we continued farther and farther up river, we discovered more and more rapids and less and less fish. Not to mention the brutal mosquitoes that were summoned in after the big rain. We started to fish this tiny pool that was pretty deep. Dad decided that we should head back and discover a new part of the river. As he started back, AC felt a hit and as she reeled in she noticed the tale of her lure gone. This was a good sign because it meant a huge fish was nibbling at the end of her lure...and winning. So she casted again to the same spot...the pool between a giant boulder and the bank of the shore (perfect spot for a hiding giant). "Let's go girl, try a new spot" Dad says as he walks by. But AC feels another hit and reels in another half eaten lure. She couldn't leave now, not with the score-- Fish: 2   AC: 0. "Oh please Dad, just one more cast," AC whines as she casts one last time. "Ok, but it's a waste of time, let's move on." And then, just like that the giant fish bites, AC sets the hook and BAM! She has him hooked and exclaims, "Got em, aha!" Dad runs back to see and is not only impressed with the perseverance but the size of this thing. Dark green, huge, and full of yellow twisty tails...game over! That's the last time Dad says "let's move on" when the amazing AC is in a duel with a smallie...

AC with the Twisty Tail Bandit!

Despite the less amount of fish caught compared to Saturday, the day stayed dry and clear, 15 fish were caught, and we found a beautiful part of the river. This weekend was a kick-ass riverbumming experience full of near death experiences, close encounters with the scaly kind, and scenery that those stuck in the office all day would pay for...

Until next time...we'll see ya on the other side of the river!

Cast Away,

AC & Dad