Go Fish

Not everyone can recognize a good thing when they have it in their hands. They don’t realize something was special until they’ve lost it. And lost it for good. Like your near perfect girlfriend storming out of the apartment after she has maxed out all your credit cards and “maybe” flirted with your best friend as she slams the door behind her screaming, “I’m the best you’ll ever get”. 

And then all of a sudden, you fall to your knees and start weeping because she was wearing your favorite Aerosmith t-shirt that had a resilient ketchup stain from a hot dog you had after your 4^th concert and all those special memories of that shirt and how it kept you company the nights she was out partying, the days off cruising the strip blending in with the bums, and the those mornings spent watching Saturday morning cartoons (admit it, the thought still excites you) guzzling down a gallon of milk and a carton of fruit loops in front of that silly yellow sponge fella on the tube. “Oh t-shirt, I should have appreciated you more.”

Yep, once something that special is gone, it most likely stays gone. Creating an empty void that follows you around like that depression cloud from those Zoloft Ads. Honestly, someone needs to blow the stalker whistle on that thing, it is creeper to the max. You know the ad. The one that asks... Are you stressed? Always busy? Working hard? Do you get sad sometimes? Can't get enough sleep? Ummm, yes, I'm alive, duh!

That’s why it’s important to cherish what you love most for as long as you can. Take our secret river for example. Tucked away in a far off land of bears, wolves, and eagles. Guarded by the finest of Wisconsin’s wood and brush known to man. Stocked with epic smallmouth bass hiding in between perfectly placed fallen trees and glacier moved boulders drawing the ultimate diversion for an angler from the bulldoze of the world and it's petty drama. A place where we find silence, serenity, and satisfaction in a world unfamiliar to society. A place where we wish we had remembered to bring paper and pen as our minds wander to fresh ideas and thoughts that would not otherwise have been thought of had we not entered such a divine place of fishbeing. Our special, one-of-a-kind river that runs free like our hearts yearn to run. No worries, no bills, no problems.

Except, there is one problem. One day the fish will leave this river, the water will dry out, and the trees and boulders will begin to wither away. Someday, this once rare beauty, will be just a valley where even our wader boot imprints will have disappeared into the hardened soil and all that's left is a cutout of where and angler's dream use to lay. Alright, now I need a Zoloft, I feel a frowny face cloud coming on.

Cheer up folks! We're just thinking of the worst case scenario, that and the possibility of Dad dropping his freshly lit cigar in the water, oh the horror! Which is why it's best to enjoy the special things in life while you can. So, we headed to this so called fantasy river to appreciate all it has to offer and of course, cast till the sun goes down. After all, we can't let a good thing go to waste, especially when that good thing has a tail...

Twisty Bass

Ac caught this beauty at the end of our fishing trip Sunday afternoon around 4:30 pm. She waded over to the far side of the left shore and did a quick bounce cast under this tree. Turns out the fish was calling her name, because it hit her lure the second it dropped...

Lunker of the weekend caught under the fallen wood

AC admiring her catch

Dad reeling one in on the flats

Can you guess what this is?

Snapper

Got something special? Good. Cherish it as mush as you can. Because you never know when you're going to lose it. That t-shirt may just get up and leave, the fish stop biting, and the only thing you will be left with is memories. So make em good and go fish!

We're off to the UP this weekend. Wish us luck as we join the Uppers in the Escanaba and Ford rivers...

Cast Away,

AC

Invasive Species

It’s 10 am. Your shaded eyes are open as the warming sun lights up your face and glistening arms, lining the water surface with sparkling dotted reflections and the tree tops with a golden coating . You are standing knee deep in a river, somewhere. The wind gently brushes the hair that sticks out your hat to the side of your face. Only the sounds of water, birds, bugs, and faint engines of planes thousands of feet off the ground are what you hear. 

Ahh, the peace. The serenity. The…suddenly the still water you have been standing in begins to ripple like that scene in Jurassic Park. You remember! The one where the kids are in the car all by themselves and the cup of water begins to vibrate with distinct intervals. boom. First ripple is surprising but it was probably just a bug you tell yourself. Boom. Second ripple is alarming as you look around and see no signs of water disruption. BOom. Third ripple the sky begins to darken and clouds cover your once quiet and comforting sun. BOOM. Then you cautiously turn to gaze at the rivers bend and notice it. RAFTERS!!! Hundreds of them. Charging this way. Coolers, palm tree swim trunks, cheap light beer. Oh the horror. Someone please tell me I have teleported into a Jaws movie and some Great White is about to come jetting out of the water and begin feeding on the (not-so) innocent tubers, cause that would be epic! But, no. No such luck! Standing there, dumbfounded watching yellow and orange speckles of hard, water proof plastic half crushed by  every all you can eat restaurants  target market meander down this once beautiful, peaceful body of water. I can hear the river moan like a mountain mule as it’s being packed with 5 times it’s capacity carry.

Rafters!  The ultimate invasive species. The truest form of a fisherman’s arch nemesis camouflaged by friendly waves and colorful swimsuits. But do not be fooled. Sure the zebra mussel and lamprey eel are top of our list too. But when was the last time you saw a Zebra Mussel tote a cooler full of Coors light down a river and then following after it are 20-30 floating empties as a sign of either early on set alcoholism or a genuine distaste in water and appreciation for the environment. And when was the last time you saw a Lamprey Eel half naked screaming all the way down the river while getting out every once and a while to pee in the direction of a fisherman’s cast?

What happen to manners? And sportman’s etiquette. Just as a moving boater slows to pass an anchored boater avoiding risk of waves and disruption, so should the mannerisms of a rafter to a fishermen. And vice versus. You don’t see me climbing in that tube of yours mister Rafter and polluting it do you? So, why piss on my fish parade? Ok, so we got a little heated. Not all rafters are bad. But just wait until you check out the photos.

Ok so you're probably thinking, "you should know better Riverbums to set foot in rafting waters." Well turns out this river, the Little Wolf near Appleton Wi, is "usually" open for rafting downstream from the main bridge. But, due to massive rains and high water level, they decided (unbeknownst to us) on offering rafting above the main bridge. First time in 5 years. Great! So for a good 4 hours we put up with the rafts that just kept coming. Don't get us wrong, we are all for enjoying a nice raft down a beautiful river. However, this was just a crowd of rafts, everybody bunched up together barely floating down like a wet pile of soft cotton stuck in-between 2 boulders. I almost felt embarrassed for them. At times, we had to wait by a boulder or on the side of the banks in fear we would get run over. Cause, it's not like you can properly steer a raft, especially someone you can barely see their toes over their belly and has been drunk since 6 am.

We enjoy seeing the occasional kayaker or tuber. But, this wasn't just a good ole fashion day in the water. We counted close to a hundred empty beer cans, 8 pairs of sandals, 4 sunglasses, and a suspicious looking pair of black speedoes left to rot in the water. It's a shame that people can't pack out what they pack in. Especially ones just lying back doing not much of anything. Like the NY Subway on monday morning work rush or the Chicago 94 spur on a Sunday evening in early Summer or even the fast lane at Six Flags... it was too damn crowded. So, we fished for a few more hours, racking in about 10 smallies, 2 northerns, and ok we'll admit it, a few "miscasts" towards tubers. We decided to pack it in when we noticed 5 more buses full of invasive species but not before we snapped a view memories of the day...

A rafting fan recognized us from Outdoor Network as we had finished packing up and asked to take our picture, he sent it from his camera phone. Dad wasn't smiling, but I whispered before the photo snapped, "When should we tell him that we have to confiscate the camera?" and he laughed right on schedule...

The Last Fisherman

The Reverend AC preaching repentance and salvation to a small group of rafters

AC at a pass with the rafters. Get ready for the questions...

And now for questions we get asked by rafters and the answers we wish we could use...

1. "Are you guys Fishin?" No Flounder, we're playing poker!
2. “How’s the fishing?” Awful (cause if you say good, they’ll come back and this time with a rod too.)
3. "What you fishing for?" Rafters
4. “Catch anything?” Ya, Rafters
5. “Is that a girl” No, that’s just a side effect of raftsickness. You better get out immediately, and bushwhack the rest of the way through tick infested brush as you trespass in a gun toting, Vietnam veteran's farmland who is hiding in one of the trees waiting for an intruder. And nothing says easy target than a half naked man carrying a bright yellow tube and toting Coors light  reflectors.

Dad with a glowing smallie

MidAir Bass

A northern on spinner bait

Since we still had a day left off, we decided to jam pack it with fun events like half a day in the Apple River and half a day at the famous Oshkosh Airshow...

AC in the Apple River for a quick wade

Shot from the OshKosh Airshow - Taken by Dad

An amazing reflection shot by Dad

Cast Away,

AC & Dad

The River Less Traveled

What are you like when you wait in line? Like at the DMV or the airport? Frustrated? Annoyed? Ready to kill the person behind you that can’t stop complaining so you start imagining the things you would say before the big punch like, “Eat my dust,” or “Bet you’ll be complaining about this when you wake up…in the hospital.” That’s it, you’re tough!

The patience of a sportsman is an acquired taste. The act of waiting is one regularly practiced by a seasoned angler. And the life of efficient endurance while muttering, “one more cast” over and over again is so habitually occupied by every fisherman that it begins to drain his mind of worry and angst like sucking poison from the body.

I pity the man who hasn’t learned what it’s like to wait and wait hard for something. The seconds, minutes, hours, days and years spent investing in the act of pure and unadulterated hope. At first, standing in that water, virgin to the thought of actually spending the whole day with a rod in your hand waiting for something to bite the other end of it all factored down to temperature of water, location, lure type, time of day, etc. What kind of  person spends their Saturdays off standing in the middle of nowhere hoping some prehistoric second rate creature is fooled by mass produced plastics wrapped around a metal barbaric hook meant to snag the poor creature and then dangle in mid air only to be thrown back in with the scars it carries only to forget minutes later due to shortness of memory as he yet again swims past a fluorescent yellow twisty tail attached a rounded, impossibly bulbous eyed bug that seems to be swimming at a trajectory course not physically possible for such an aquatic being to travel at and yet the fish says, “hmm, that looks surprisingly fake but delicious, I think I will go after it and …” OUCH! Take that 8^th grade English professor! See, run on sentences can be fun and effective!

But we digress. After all, when it comes to patience, digressing is a big part of it. Taking your mind away from the impatience, deviating from the pain of stillness and bore, immersing yourself and mind into something more enjoyable. And that’s what fishing has come to be. Spending a whole Saturday standing in water is the greatest test of patience and fortitude.

And the only reason we fishermen put up with the patience is because we are in love with the water. What other reason could a human have to wait so long standing for something?  Because of this great infatuation of some major cruel summer crush. The connection a fisherman has with the river is one of perfect compatibility. No one judges the other because of who they are or argues because of some silly issue. The river accepts man and man accepts the river. Just as a perfect relationship calls for. Give a little, take a little. Laugh at the falls together, bask in the warmth of the reflection of the sun against the surface. Man respects the river for what it is and the river respects man. A perfect balance of harmony that is fueled by patience. When the river is high, fisherman waits for it to lower. When the fisherman is working the weekends, the river waits for him. And when the fisherman stands all day in the hot sun wading miles for the perfect catch and that 6 o'clock shadow casts down on him as the river offers up the lunker of the week, well... that's just a match made in fishing heaven. Yep, that's where all the fish go. Your welcome....

AC with the Sunset on her back

One amazing shot of a bass emerging for a top water lure...

We started off with yellow and orange twisty tails on white jigs as we started reeling them in around 9 am. It was a steady 70 degrees all day with a few lingering rain showers here and there. But, nothing too detrimental. After all, what's a little rain when you've survived a few tornadoes...

Reeling them in on the flats...

He caught about 10 standing there and by the 6th one, he was just dropping them before I could shoot...

Like a Boss (Your Welcome Danny)

"Like a Boss" (Your welcome Danny)

And now for a quick intermission of something completely different.... A segment called, "Cars we see on the road that we think are pretty so we take lots of pictures of them." 

His and Hers

AC's favorite

And back to our usual blogging...

Dad decided to be adventurous and venture over to a side of the river we had never been too before. He made it there, reaching up to his armpits in water. Turns out it wasn't the deep that got him, but the shallows. As he was just about to step on the boulder you see below, he tripped and fell in about a foot of water. Our best falls are the ones in easiest wading. The river likes a laugh here and there and we sure had fun joining in as Dad stood up, soaked in river water. Still a trouper, he fished on in his soggy bottoms only to catch more fish than AC...Of course!!!

Patience really is a virtue. Because it’s worth it to wait for something good. Something meaningful. Something with a tail that likes to eat bugs! So, with dozens of smallies caught over a 10 hour period, we waded out, headed to the local reservation farmers market for fresh cherries and made it back in time (2 am) to well, hit the sack!

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

Cast Away,

AC & Dad