Tag Archives: Trout

Monday Video: BWO improved sparkle dun.

BWO Improved Sparkle Dun from Tightline Productions~T. Flagler on Vimeo.

 

Red dot blues.

RedDotBlues

There’s a little local blue-line trout stream I won’t fish because it’s so low- not the typical mid-winter seasonal low, but 40% below average for this time of year.  It’s the same story for a tentative August trip out west, looking at SNOTEL, with much of the Rockies well below average.

SNOTEL

Here’s hoping things pick up….and soon.

 

 

Wednesday Night Ties: Order.

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I woke up one morning last week deciding I wanted things neat.  For the past few years I’ve been doing this- making certain I complete the first thing I think of in the morning, whether it’s eating fresh strawberries in a hammock with a Hefeweizen or, in this instance, a detailed cleaning of the home office.  It seems a reasonable enough path to self-fulfillment.

The tying desk was a wreck and the answer seemed self discipline, using what was laying around on the untidy table to fill some of my boxes.

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Last Best Streams: #200.

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This one’s tough because it’s home.  I fished this river first, it maintained my sanity during the Recession, just out of college and underemployed.  A friend in similar circumstances would tag along, two or three times a week, sometimes, paying five bucks to stay in a nearly abandoned campground across the gravel road from the access.  Folks with full-time gigs weren’t going to risk losing them and the ones retired or underwater had bigger things on their plate; most days we had the place to ourselves.

A hundred years ago the watershed was a moonscape. Between 1888 and 1903 timber companies cut 375,000 acres of white oak and shortleaf pine, rafting logs downstream where industrial sawmills turned 800 trees a day into the beams and boards building midwestern metropolises.  By 1920 the roughest hollows and bottoms were the only timber left. After failed attempts to grow corn and wheat, locals who didn’t or couldn’t sell turned out hogs and cattle to forage what they could.  Thousands of acres burned annually, or nearly so, to rejuvenate meager pasture.

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With the Depression came federal buyouts, state parks, and national forest.  The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) projects replanted native pine, the Works Progress Administration (WPA) built roads, bridges, fire towers, park offices, picnic shelters, and campgrounds.  When the war was over, everyone from Aldo Leopold to the artist Thomas Hart Benton clamored to protect the natural beauty of this landscape, and in the 1960s those protections were codified in federal law.

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A third of the watershed is now publicly owned. Mixed hardwood forests are again the dominant landcover, although fire suppression makes the forest more closed than historical conditions.  Imperiled bats and birds call the rivers home, rare flowers and ferns carpet dolomite bluffs, and hundreds of species of fish and aquatic invertebrates- some found nowhere else on the planet- call the river home.

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In a century threats to the river shifted one-hundred eighty degrees.  The river is no longer threatened by logging and livestock, but by ATVs, illegal roads, and poorly maintained horse trails.  Canoers, kayakers, and jet boats rove the river throughout the warm season, dotting gravel bars with black pocks from bonfires and leaving litter in their wake.  It’s a diverse crowd- there’s not many places you’re as liable to run across a baptismal as you are a yoga retreat.  But there’s just too many for the river and the infrastructure to support, and it’s the number of visitors and their diversity which confounds management.  Open houses and public forums are met with protests and counter-protests, one recreation group pitted against another, resentment welling up along the urban-rural divide.

It’s still pretty.  And there’s still good fishing- stocked browns and a few wild rainbows up at the top end, smallmouth bass and rock bass plus panfish, pickerel, and the occasional walleye downstream.  There’s a reason people still visit.

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The Last Best Streams: #1051.

 

 

This stream is wholly composed of springs which gush at almost every step from its calcareous banks and it rapidly assumes the character of a considerable river. The waters are very pure, cold, and transparent.

Henry Rowe Schoolcraft, 1818

It looks nearly the same two centuries later, although I’m fooling trout from California and Germany into eating fake caddisflies in the middle of the country.  The fish aren’t as big or abundant up here as in the tailwater thirty miles below, but there’s something to be said for finding one’s place in a coldwater niche that hasn’t been occupied since the last Ice Age, living alongside seventy native fish species, a handful of freshwater mussels and crayfish, and hundreds of invertebrate taxa, some of which occur nowhere else on the planet.

The dam eliminated most of that richness downstream, its effects felt even up here as species declined and disappeared over the last half century.  Unique warmwater communities were replaced with cheap power and cheap hatchery trout.  It’s strange to think the loss has been a boon for tourism economy, helping nudge a chronically depressed region out of poverty.  Not all bad, and we get to keep some vestige of what once was.