Humble Pie

Firelight danced, casting shadows about the yard. A southeast wind brought an aromatic collection of smells. Wood smoke, sumac, cherry, and crabapple blossoms wafted along the evening breeze. I cracked open a bottle of hoppy goodness and relaxed for the first time in several weeks as split pine cracked and popped. I smiled settling into a comfortable camping chair. The Wisconsin fishing opener was the following morning.

There were no worries. Multiple plans and preparations were at the ready. All the gear had been tested a few weeks prior. My waders only leaked off the right heel... just slightly. All the fly boxes were relatively organized and I'd even stopped by the local fly shop to grab a few extras. "Brian, I'm, looking for a few rainbow warriors, size 16, 18, or maybe a 12. Also, what do you think of the pink squirrel? Do you have any more BWO's?"

In his way, Brian told me they all work well, as a true fly shop owner will. I bought hook, line, and sinker. In fact, he even swayed me to a new pattern he'd just finished. Things were set for the opener. The dancing flames of the open fire, deliciously cool breeze, and hops put my mind at ease.

The Angry Dane would be joining me and that was a good thing. We hadn't had many opportunities to connect after the deer season. There was much to catch up on and I had a simple objective, and surefire plan. Ease into the morning, hit the spot nobody would be, and catch a limit before lunch. Of course, to do all of this in front of the Dane wasn't exactly part of the specific plan but wouldn't be a bad thing when wrapping up. What good is having a fishing buddy if you can't compete a little?

I tried getting the Good Doctor to join us as well. He had daddy-duty with his infant that morning, and didn't think he could fish. I suggested he meet us at his or the child's leisure, with beverages, and perhaps I could take the young sprite while he wet a line. This piqued interest in the Doctor and he made sure the beverages were chilling properly.

Yes, all the makings were set. The weather was supposed to be sunny and in the low seventies. It is tough to imagine a better recipe for the Wisconsin fishing opener. The Dane arrived on time. We visited with the Mrs. over a cup of coffee in the dining room. There was no need to rush I assured him. Nobody would be fishing the spot. I selected a place right below the falls in town. Everyone would be hitting the outside access lots and piling along the local rivers, but rarely do folk tackle the falls in town. I had had, on previous outings years before, fantastic success with angleworms. The water there would be heavily oxygenated and the scattered rock offers ample ambush points for opportunistic browns.

The first crack in my armored plan was the construction all along the park. Fencing and cones made parking and accessing the paths to the Kinni a trick. The Dane and I got to practice the art of many unscripted or named yoga stretches to slinking our way between fence posts and drop down the steep cliff sides to the river.

We set up below the upper falls, near the spring and where the south fork joins its namesake. The Dane was set for dry flies and I was all about nymphing below the falls. I crossed the south fork and climbed above the boulder near the spot our famed town founder, Joel Foster stayed in the 1860s. Quickly, I cut off six to seven feet of size five tippet and attached it to my rig. The water ran fast and clear beneath the falls. What I hadn't reckoned was how the deluge of rain we received the previous week had washed things out. We received between 3-4 inches in an hours time. I couldn't get my size 12 zebra midge and rainbow warrior to the bottom of the hole. A good effort was given to this spot but I was bested. A look to the Dane below showed he suffered a similar fate. Could it be there was a reason nobody was fishing here? Naw. We just needed to adjust tactics.

We opted to work the last stretch of falls along the south fork below the Swinging Bridge. This choice resulted in the same outcome and the Dane discovered a solid rip in his wader boot. The first twinge of anxiety began to enter my mind. It was nearing ten and we hadn't landed a fish. We cashed out and went to plan B.

Before getting back to the river the Dane wanted to visit the fly shop to purchase sinkers. I didn't even bother to take off my waders.

Parking in front of Lunds, the Dane went in and was speaking with Brian. Brian made out well as the Dane purchased sinkers, a new pair of waders, and boots! It was nearing 10:30 and we had ninety minutes to fish before I had to assume my paternal role.

Plan B was like a Walmart parking lot as the access was loaded with fisherman. A cold sweat plastered my temples but I had Plan C at the ready and drove ahead.

We made our way to the Bend, bypassing the Red Cabin (plan D). It was open without a car to be seen! While the Dane donned his new fishing suit, I tramped ahead for the riffle before the bend and that's where my fish battle was to ensue. As I walked the field my phone buzzed. The Good Doctor and child were ready to join. I filled him in on locale asking if he'd be kind enough to bring a camping chair or two and the beverages, of course.

I navigated the field, entered a stretch of budding trees, and came out near the riffle. I stopped short of the river to take in the scene. It was nearing eleven and by God, there was a hatch! Trout were attacking some form of caddis or bluewing at the surface and behold, a giant was holding court near a hackberry bush. My fingers trembled as I quickly changed my nymphing leader for a dry leader. Adrenaline pumped as I attempted to affix four feet of tippet to my leader and get a blue wing olive, size 14 to the line. Trout were making the water boil!

With gear ready, I made the first tentative cast just left of the mid-stream line. Fish took insects to the left of my fly and dead middle. My fly was untouched. I cast again further to the outer bank, A trout refused the offering seconds after it landed. Quickly I switched to a cinnamon caddis, size 12. As I secured the knot, the giant smacked another time near the bush. Then he attacked again!

I cast just above him and thankfully, the fly laid neatly across the water, over his window, and below. Nothing. I cast again a bit more to the main current. Nothing. He smacked another fly from the hatch but this time I noticed the bug fell from the bush. I cast my fly to the hackberry bush. It danced off a leaf falling into the river below and SMACK! The large brown exploded at my fly but missed! I cast again, knocking a branch and flicking the fly to the water and WHOOSH another strike and miss! The third cast rang true. This time the brute found his target. I set hook and felt the weight of a monster and then watched my leader fly behind me with a ZING!

In my haste to tie, I failed to secure a cinched knot. Oh for shame! I raced into my dry box, searching for another caddis. In the interim, the feisty giant continued to assault unsuspecting caddis as they floated near his haunt. The Dane had come by and watched me wrestle a fly from the box. With another fly cinched and secured I sent my cast to the bush, tickling a leafy branch and WHAM! The trout took a run to the mid-current. I attempted to work him away from a rock pile and again my leader flew behind me, nearly slapping the Dane. The line snapped at the tippet ring! Oh for haste!

Adrenaline, anxiety, and the thrill of the hunt had my fish bloodlust at a boil. I took a moment to breathe a few deep breaths, re-tied tippet and fly another round. This brown was two points ahead of me but I knew I could knock him out in the third. I double checked all knots and sent another caddis to do battle. It missed the branches on the first cast but connected on the second and this White Whale gave me one more fight. This time the fly and leader held. The Dane cheered the effort behind me. Mr. Brown took me again to the rock pile. I worked him towards me and also the mid-current. Upon hitting the current, the large fish made a run towards me. I stripped line as fast as possible to maintain tension. The Dane yelled something about watch left. I turned my head back towards him with a questioning look upon my face. In the moments that followed, I felt the line go slack and as my head turned in what felt like slow-motion I saw this beautiful fighting brown flashing in the sunshine and thrashing his head throwing the hook and swimming back to his haunt.

Distraught I brought the fly in, recast, recast, and recast.

The waters went slack as the midday hatch ended and thus my opportunity at that monster Kinni brown. Dejected, humbled, and shaking I sat upon the bank as the Dane slapped my shoulder and had a good laugh at my expense. Well, At least he hadn't gotten a strike. I don't know why I felt so tired at the moment but I barely had the strength to grab the phone that was now buzzing in my wader pocket. The Good Doctor had arrived. Suddenly the prospect of a cold beverage gave me my second wind.

The Doctor and son were sitting in my camping chair. He had a baby drinking his bottle in one arm, his fly rod in the other. After exchanging hellos he donned an infant front-loaded sack and asked me to put the young one in. I offered to hold the dear boy but the Good Doctor declined, wishing his son to get a crack at his first trout. He did ask that I work downstream of him. I thought it was to net any fish he managed to hook but alas, it was to make sure if the little tyke slipped out, someone would keep him from floating downstream

The Dane enjoyed his beverage along the shore as I again entered the river below the pair... no trio. The Good doctor cast his nymph to the outer bank below a downed log once, twice, and on the third drift, his indicator danced. The rod went up and like that, with a baby in tow, the Good Doctor worked and landed a Kinni brown putting the Angry Dane and me to shame. What we failed to do in nearly three hours, the Doctor succeeded in a matter of three or four minutes. After the photo was taken, the trout was returned and the little tyke needed to be taken home for a nap. So did I. So did I.