Fishing Trip June 2003
I don’t actually prefer to fish alone, but modern lives are so complicated and there are so few opportunities to get away. I had originally thought my brother would go, but his wife was going into surgery that week. I didn’t have a backup, so I tried to pressure my teenage son to go, but even the prospect of days without having to shower couldn’t coax him from his planned endless summer of TV and video games. I resolved to go fishing alone.
The last time I went on a fishing trip alone, there was at least the draw that eventually my friend, Mark, and his son would arrive later in the week. By the time they did arrive, I had become so socially pent up that I couldn’t stop talking. I decided that as long as the trip this time was only a couple of days that my long term sanity would not be adversely affected.
We had just returned from a trip to visit my sister in Gaylord, so I was still a bit disoriented when I threw everything I thought I needed into my car, strapped the canoe onto the roof and started on the road. I was pretty sure I had everything I needed, but as every camper knows, you always neglect to bring something. But, I was on vacation and I didn’t want to spend my time worrying about something before it happened. I would just deal with each crisis as it occurred.
We didn’t have any batteries for my flashlight, so when I stopped for gas, I quickly scanned the aisles and bought a set of batteries. Now I was ready for anything.
I was headed to my “secret” fishing spot on Avery Lake near Atlanta, Michigan. My brother and I had discovered this small lake through a series of unlikely events, and our chance encounter with this location has forever changed my fishing habits. I eagerly await any opportunity to return there and fish. It was never really secret, since there are several modern cottages down at one end of the lake and has two (2) State Forest campgrounds on the other end. However, when my brother and I first came upon the lake, the only marking was a small black and white “Avery Lake” street sign on a county road. Then you had to travel several miles down an unmarked dirt road to the campsites. A good map was a must. Now, the DNR has gone and added several large brown signs with arrows that funnel people right to the lake. Kids today just have it way too easy. What’s worse is that last year, I was talking to a fisherman at Avery Lake who said he was from Colorado(!). Someone at his fishing club had suggested that he come to Michigan to fish Avery Lake and so he looked it up on the internet(!) and flew out. So much for my secret fishing spot.
Before getting to the lake, I planned to stop and fish the mighty Au Sable river at Mio where US-33 crosses. I don’t get many opportunities to fish for trout, but I knew that my patience for the frustrations of fly fishing would wear thin pretty quickly. I could easily put in a few hours of fishing on the Au Sable and still get to Avery Lake before dinner.
My lack of foresight and planning began to show. When I pulled out my waders, I remembered that the felt on the bottom of one of the boots had begun to separate from the sole of the boot. This flap of felt made it nearly impossible to walk. I guess I should have remembered to fix that. But I was undeterred. I simply used some twine to wrap around my boot to hold the felt in place. Not very elegant, but practical. However, when I pulled out my fly rod, the tip was gone. I had broken off the original tip (that’s another story) and had glued on a replacement. Now it was gone. I looked around, but I couldn’t find it.
After some experimentation, I convinced myself that I could still cast even without the tip on the rod (with some difficulty), so with my entwined boot and damaged rod, I clambered into the river to fish.
It was midday, which is not a particularly auspicious time to fish for trout, but there were numerous fish feeding on the surface. There were flies of some sort that were apparently hatching (I was never good at this part of the fly fishing experience), so I tied on something from my box that looked like them and began to fish. As I expected, I became frustrated rather quickly. Even though the fish were feeding nearby, something about my fly, my presentation or their mood kept them from taking my fly. The twine came loose from my boot and wading became a chore. The lack of a tip on my rod was certainly affecting my technique. It didn’t help that the river had canoes and tubers drifting by. Their jolly mood appeared as if they were laughing at my clumsy failed attempts to hook a fish. I bailed out rather quickly, but I resolved to return once I had my equipment in proper condition for catching the wiley trout.
The remainder of the driving to the lake was relatively uneventful, except for maybe the long construction detour down a bunch of dirt roads. I hadn’t brought any detailed maps, so I didn’t want to get lost so close to the end. But, I didn’t get lost and was pleasantly surprised to find the campgrond nearly empty. Camping now cost $10 a night, but that is still a bargain. I picked out the best tent site (#15) overlooking the lake, set up my tent, dropped my canoe in the water and went fishing.
Avery Lake has nesting loons. There are warnings posted telling people to stay away from the birds and I certainly don’t want to disturb them. However, I had just begun fishing when one of the loons popped up maybe 10 or 12 feet (not yards) from my canoe and gave one of their characteristic calls. I was a bit startled, but also honored that my quiet fishing had not put the bird off. I stared at him for awhile, thinking that he would move off pretty quickly, but he didn’t. He sat there bobbing on the water and made another call, so I turned around and went back to fishing. The loon then peeked below the water and disappeared. He soon reappeared on the other side of my canoe. It was as though he was curious about what I was doing. I then thought that maybe I should move away so that the loon could go about his business. I pulled my anchor and paddled away for a bit and settled back into fishing. The loon meanwhile had followed me. I was being harrassed by the loon! I pretty much ignored him, but they are such big, beautiful birds to watch. He would look around, putting his face in the water, and then disappear below for a couple of minutes before reappearing somewhere else. He followed me for some time until I drifted into shallow water.
It was the middle of the afternoon with no clouds and the sun was hot. They had predicted 80 degrees and it certainly felt at least that hot. There was a steady breeze, which made the sun and temperature easier to bear, but which relentlessly pushed my canoe towards one end of the lake. I got tired of the sun and the constant paddling to fight the wind, so I headed for one of the small islands in the lake. I found a spot where the trees shaded the water and I anchored the canoe there. I switched to small spinner lures and began to catch fish that were apparently hiding from the sun as well in the shade. After I caught every fish within casting distance of my shady spot, I took a short cat-nap in the bottom of the canoe, rocking in the breeze serenaded by the calls of loons. This is the way to live.
At dinner, I made a disturbing discovery. The batteries I had bought for my flashlight were “C” cells. As everyone knows, you need “D” cell batteries for flashlights. Well, I hadn’t planned on spending too much time wandering around after nightfall. Anyway, it was so close to the summer solstice that the days are unusually long, who needs light? I had brought just enough food for the two days. Two canned dinners, with pull top tabs, a couple of lunch cans with pull tops and a couple of instant oatmeal packets. I had a box of crackers, to give a little variety, and a can of peaches (the ultimate camp food) and a can of hot chocolate to wash everything down. I heated things up on my Coleman stove and went back out fishing.
After dinnertime, a couple of boats arrived at the boat launch. I got more traffic from fishermen in boats than campers. There was only one other set of campers (albeit a large one with kids), but they were up on the ridge so it was fairly private and quiet on the lake. I paddled across the lake to the shady side. The sun was still way too hot for my comfort. The wind was still blowing, so it took a lot of work to get across the lake.
Once on the other side, the shady area was pretty shallow, but I got a bite almost immediately. The smallmouth jumped out of the water and my line broke! This was strange, since it didn’t break at the lure, like usual, but at the reel. When this sank in, I noticed that the section of the line that broke off was floating on the water just a couple of feet from the canoe. But the line was moving. The fish on the other end was swimming away. I tried to chase it, but with the wind, I couldn’t get ahold of the end of the line. Boy, that was strange.
I switched to my other rod and continued to work the shady area for fish. Suddenly, I noticed a strange thing. One of the lily pads was moving in an odd fashion. On a hunch, I paddled over there to check it out. Sure enough, there as some fishing line tangled on the lily pad and something (a fish?) was pulling on the other end of the line. This would have been a truly great story if I could say that I managed to retrieve the line (and the fish), but as fate would have it, when I disturbed the lily pad, the line untangled and the fishing line disappeared into the weeds.
As the sun got lower, I began to work some of the weed lines in a large shallow area in the middle of the lake. In the past, I have caught many good size bass hiding just inside these weeds. All you have to do is cast at the edge and they come surging out to grab your lure. Because it was so windy, I positioned myself upwind of the area I wanted to fish and let myself drift by the weed beds.
I took my last Rapala minnow lure and tied it on my line and began casting. Sure enough, a good size bass struck the lure, but instead of a bit of excitement, all I got was dismay. My line had broken again. The bass even jumped out of the water so that I could clearly see my Rapala dangling from his mouth as he disappeared back into the weeds. I should have taken the hint the first time around and replaced the line on that rod with fresh line before I tied on another lure. Now I didn’t have any Rapala lures, which are probably the best all-around lures for catching fish. Before heading in for the night, I did manage to catch some fish on other lures. I quickly replaced the line on that reel as soon as I got back to camp. I was so exhausted from the day’s events that I was asleep before the light was gone from the sky.
Wednesday morning was still windy, but with lots more clouds, and cooler. It had been cold overnight and I realized that I had not brought a jacket (as I had intended) or even any long sleeve shirts. I had brought a pullover sweatshirt, so that was what I wore. I usually catch more fish per hour of fishing when I haunt the Huron River back in Ann Arbor, but there is a real excitement about fishing on Avery Lake, where a keeper size bass may lurk behind every weed or log. Something big may grab your lure at any moment. I caught several spirited smallmouth bass or various sizes, which was well worth the heavy paddling against the wind.
Since it was so windy, I decided to take a day trip into town (Atlanta). This gave me the opportunity to see a wild turkey wandering beside the county road into town. I should have stopped and taken a photo, but I whipped by him pretty fast before I noticed him there. In town, I bought myself another Rapala lure and a bag of corn chips (to have with dinner) and tried to call Linda (she was out visiting her horses). There is not a lot to do in Atlanta, so I was soon on my way back to camp.
The wind was still very high so I hung around camp. There must have been 100 kinds of birds in the forests around the lake. I saw two downy woodpeckers hanging around my campsite. I wish I knew more of the different bird calls.
