Sept 12
I leave the motel at 11. Heading out of Iron Mtn, but I decide to stop at the mining tour where Big John lives. I spend $7.50 on the tour and $22.50 on a book - the Geology of the Lake Superior Region. Wish I had had this book 2 weeks ago. Now I will be leaving the region.
The mine tour is fantastic.
Now they have an electric train that takes the tourists in.
They kept tunneling deeper, hoping to hit pay dirt. (Pics are blurry cuz I had my flash turned off most of the time.)
Time to leave this iron town where no tourist ever goes. Heading to the Door County peninsula that separates Green Bay from the main body of Lake Michigan. I take Hwy 141 S from Iron Mtn. I am halfway between the N Pole and the equator.
In the Peshtigo R watershed now, a trib to the Menominee. I come upon a little county park on a trib to the Peshtigo. Had 3 nice SMs hit on the golden rap in this nice little pool. Had one almost to the bank, about 1 ½ lbs.
Into the city of Green Bay, where I cross the Fox River, which is very indsustrial here.
This is the holy center of Cheesehead Nation. I get into Green Bay exactly at halftime of the first Packers game of the year. It is a road game, but the entire city is almost deserted. Everybody is inside watching the game.
I head up Hwy 57 towards Sturgeon Bay. Should hurry up there and get out on the water before dark, but I must stop at a tavern. I know it will be full of cheeseheads watching TV, rooting for the Packers, and it is.I have a pizza and a couple beers and stay until the game is decided. Pack wins! The cheeseheads are in heaven.
Want to take a pic, but my camera is jammed again. Must stop getting sand into it. Need to pry the lens open with my knife when I turn the power on, but I get it running again. I get up to Sturgeon Bay at sunset and find a boat launch.
Two guys are filleting a bunch of pike they have caught. Another boat is just loading out. They say the fishing is poor. They only caught 55 perch, 15 walleyes, about 5 pike and a few bass. I sleep in the car near the boat launch.
Sept 13
Yesterday was calm and beautiful here in Door Co. It is still summer here. Amazing difference in the weather, although it is not much further S thatn the Menominee. But today is very windy from the SW. Forgot to download the charts, need to find a WIFI connection. Every McDonalds in the world is supposed to offer free internet connection, so I find one and order a Big Breakfast. Used to cost $1.99 in Victoria when I was going thru the Env Tech program. FRBC was slow about coming thru with my retraining subisdy, and I was over extended financially, so I would stop there on the way to school the first month I went to Camosun College. Now it costs $6.45, with coffee, and after I order I find that this is the only McDs in the world that does not have WIFI. I can eat this crap if I have the internet to amuse me. But if I just have to sit there and stare at this crud it I cannot. I eat the pancakes and leave the rest of the blech on the table.
There is a Wal Mart next door. I need to buy a new battery for the Volvox. It had an tiny old worn out battery when I bought the car a year ago, and I keep running it dead listening to the radio at nite and powering the inverter for my laptop computer. This 21 year old car has towed the Bullship and all my traveling possessions from Ashland, OR, up to Vancouver Island, across 4 huge mountain ranges in BC, and back thru Idaho to Oregon, where I gave it an oil change. Then across the US to Lake Michigan. Other than to boost the dead battery a few times I have never opened the hood since I left Ashland, never touched it with a tool. It has never missed a beat, never burned a drop of oil, never leaked a drop of oil. While I am putting in the new battery I check the oil & water. They are fine. Enough maintenance on the Volvox for another year.
Don't want to go out on this big water until I get a better look at it - charts and Google Earth. It is early yet so I drive around town. This is a strange place. Very properous and upscale community. A huge tourist mecca but also has a very strong industrial base. No wilderness in Door Co. There is farming everywhere. Almost zero public land. No national forest, no little roads in the woods where you can pitch a tent and make a campfire, no places for Volvo campers to sleep.
Sturgeon Bay used to cut almost completely thru the Door Co peninsula. In the late 1800s a group of private investors realized how much a canal would cut off in transportation costs for shipping lumber, iron ore, limestone etc, if the remaining 1.3 miles of isthmus could be eliminated. They completed this canal in 1890.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturgeon_Bay_Ship_Canal
Sturgeon Bay is one of the great natural harbors on Lake Michigan. Still has a thriving ship building and repairing industry.
I find a $5 boat launch. There are a couple guys from Chicago heading out to seek the wily bass.
Sturgeon Bay used to cut almost completely thru the Door Co peninsula. In the late 1800s a group of private investors realized how much a canal would cut off in transportation costs for shipping lumber, iron ore, limestone etc, if the remaining 1.3 miles of isthmus could be eliminated. They completed this canal in 1890.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sturgeon_Bay_Ship_Canal
Sturgeon Bay is one of the great natural harbors on Lake Michigan. Still has a thriving ship building and repairing industry.
I drive out to Sawyer Harbor, where Sturgeon Bay joins into Green Bay. On the way I come to a place where limestone has been dumped into the water to form a little spit that goes out into deeper water. There is a sign about the shipwrecks here.
One of the wrecks is the Ida Corning, a sailing scow out of Chicago. Sailing scows are an interesting concept, invented centuries ago by the Chinese on the Yangtze River. They combine the bulk cargo capacity of a barge with the wind propulsion ability of a sailboat. Use drop keels that slide down thru the hull in order to sail. In a previous lifetime I spent 3 summers select logging on Rocky Island in Kennedy Lake, Vancouver Island. As part of my work agreement I selected the finest douglas fir tree on the island, felled it, and sawed it into giant timbers with chainsaws - 2 big Stihl chainsaws mounted on each end of a 5 ft bar. Some of the timbers were 4" x 24", 44 ft long, without a single knot.. My plan was to build a sailing scow that I could live on. Like many plans in my younger days, I changed my mind. Bought some property instead, and ended up selling the timbers to a boatbuilding shop.
But I still have a place in my heart for sailing scows. Must came back here and catch some fish off the wreck of the Ida Corning.
And the wrecks are still sticking out of the lake. Killer SM habitat!
I drive to the bridge over the bay, then walk back to take some pics. The main bay is very shallow here, but the channel is deep. Supposed to be good perch fishing along the edge of the channel.
I spend a couple hours getting ready to launch. I notice that the lock for my trailer is on top of my car. I took it off yesterday morn, in Iron Mtn. Then spaced out and forgot to lock it back on the boat trailer. I have driven hundreds of miles, sometimes up to 70 MPH, often over bumpy roads. Cannot believe it has not moved an inch.
I launch around 3 PM. It is very windy from the SW, so I head across to the S shore of the bay. Drive across to the wreck site. There are old wrecks strewn all over the bottom, in water up to 10 ft deep. Looks like there should be fish here, but I get no bites.
Then I explore along the S shore, to Pottawatami State Park.
There is a spring flowing into the lake here.
All the bedrock is limestone here. Some places the shore drops right off into 25 ft of water.
Huge limestone bluffs at the N entrance to the bay.
It gets windier and choppier as I get further out. I try fishing here & there. Little chance throwing a rap into a 2 ft chop, and too windy to do much with a jig unless I anchor. I head back to town. Nothing is biting, so I check out the freighters at the shipyard.
Hope the weather calms down tomorrow so I can fish. If it keeps blowing from the W I will go out the E end of the canal into the big lake, and try for seeforellen brown trout.
Sept 14
The wind has died down. It is calm in the harbor at dawn. I launch downtown and head back under the bridge to fish the wreck of the Ida Corning. No wind there either, but there is still an 18" chop rolling in all the way from Green Bay, 5 miles away. Still rough at the wreck site, but there is calmer water in behind the little spit. Big fish swirling and jumping again and again. I get excited, but get no hits on the rap. Turns out the jumpers are all carp. Discouraged, I head back to town. Gonna fish perch with the locals. I head back to the car first to pick up the 2 things I need in order to fish perch: 1) The night crawlers I bought yesterday; 2) A good book. I am going to finish reading Zinn'z History of the US, which I have been reading since May. I am a slow reader. Too busy doing other things.
There are already 20 boat trailers in the lot. The entire Cheesehead Nation is out on the bay fishing for perch. By the time I get back on the water the wind has come up. I drift along with the wind, letting a crawler drag along the bottom on one rod, and throwing the golden rap around the weed edges for pike with the other. No bites. I drift along and thru the entire fleet of cheeseheads.
They are all using live minnows, and in the half hour I am near them they only manage to catch a few dinky perch, too small to keep. This is pathetic. Cannot stand the boredom of bait fishing if I am not catching fish. I give up. No place for me on this big bay on this giant lake. Too clear, too deep, too windy, too hard. I must accept the obvious - the fishermen here are great, as is their football team. I am a useless pile of crap, like the Chicago Bears.
I decide to head E, down and out the ship canal into the big lake. It will be calm there - offshore wind.
On the way I spot a monarch floating on the water, apparently dead. I circle back to take a pic.
Its little legs are still moving. I pick it up, and bring it along for the ride.
After a while it starts crawling around, and later disappears. Must have flown away. These are amazingly tough little critters.
There is quite a bit of current running from the bay E into the lake.
At the mouth of the channel is a coast guard station and lighthouse. I am looking out into the big lake itself.
I drive out into the lake, and take some pics looking back.
I am afraid to turn my motor off. If it should not start again for any reason, and if the wind should suddenly come up too hard for me to row against, I would be blown offshore, and certainly die. I used to tow log booms on the W coast of Vancouver Island in winter in boats smaller than this. Now I am terrified by a calm lake. Used to put myself in a position where I had to put my life on the line, every day, in order to earn enough $ to buy food. No longer. Retired now. Not into fishing here. Won't catch anything here. This is like salmon fishing in the Pacific off BC. Need to troll deep, with lots of lead.
This is the kind of rig you need if you want to fish here.
This is the kind of rig you need if you want to fish here.
Not interested in fishing slow and deep. I fish shallow and fast. Run & gun. Not that I think I catch more fish that way, but that is the way I prefer to catch them. I head back to shore, where there is a little calm spot along the beach at the inside end of the breakwall. Lie down on the beach and relax.
Piles of dead zebra mussel shells everywhere.
They have taken over the lake bottom. Filter feeders, they have sucked most of the phytoplankton out of the big lake. It is even clearer than the bay. you can see down 15-20 ft.
Don't want to fish here. No hope for me here. My mojo is gone. Too hard to catch fish here. Must leave this bay, and this big lake. No place to camp. No place to get out of the wind. No bites. Like Nicolet and Perrot, I must keep rolling. Must see what is around the next bend. As the famous French existentialist philosopher Dion said in 1961: "I'm the kind of guy who will never settle down. Never in one place. I roam from town to town.... They call me the wanderer, yeah, the wanderer. I roam around and round and round and round."
I will leave this cheesy state and head down to see if I have any relatives left in Chicago.
I head SE across the peninsula until I get to Algoma, then down the W shore of the big lake. Past the nuke plant in Kewaunee.
Stop on the beach north of Monitowoc, where there is a ginormous ant farm.
S from here it is all basically one big city, from Milwaukee all around the bottom of the lake to Gary, Ind. No place for the Bullship. Lewis and Chester avoided the big cities too on their expedition across the great plains. Nothing there of interest to explore. I stay on teenie 2 lane roads, heading generally S, but tending W whenever I cannot go S, so I will swing W of Milwaukee.
In the middle of nowhere I come across a huge abandoned building.
I am intrigued by derelict stuff - old houses, smokestacks, junkyards. So many stories here, that will never be told. This is the reason I take 2 lane roads insterad of freeways. I already know what Wal Marts and McDonalds look like. This place is unbelieveable. Behind is a huge church and steeple, abandoned. Acres of nicely mowed lawn. Sign at the gate saying "No tresspassing. Dusk to Dawn." It is not dusk yet, so I drive in. There is nobody around. There are broken stained glass windows in the church. Bats must be getting in and crapping all over everything. Creepy.
The place is huge. One part has been turned into a Christian thrift store, with a huge derelict building behind.
What is going on here? There is an old graveyard, where all the old priests and brothers are buried.
Obviously used to be a lot of people here, but none now. Very weird.
Turns out this is the remains of St Nanzianz. A catholic christian communist utopian community founded by a German priest Ambrose Oschwald. Bought the property sight unseen in 1834. Sailed across to the US in 1833 with his followers. Land of religious freedom, etc. Got to Manitowoc via lake schooners, went inland as far as the road went via oxcart, then chopped their way thru the forest till they got here - their promised land. I later do some googling to find out more about this mysterious place.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St._Nazianz,_Wisconsin
Even the world wide web does not have a lot to say about it. What happened to bring such a huge society to this current state of dereliction? When Oschwald died the place started falling apart. Lost it mojo. The priests went up to Sturgeon Bay looking for bass and got skunked, so the followers abandoned them? Somehow it was bought by a "private owner" (who?), and was turned into an alternative school for a while.
"By the early 1980s, the school ceased to operate and continues to stand, privately owned but virtually abandoned. Police and private activity to prevent vandals from desecrating the buildings have failed. This has accentuated the appearance of the once stately buildings that have fallen into disrepair."
There are a couple of really fat kids racing each other around in riding lawnmowers. Remind me of the fat kid from the Adams family. This would be an idyllic retirement setting for Rocky King. You could mow your life away. They wave to me, and I wave back. Then I head back out to the road. Glad I got to see this place.
I keep heading S, thru Kiel, Elkhart Lake. Nowhere left in this cheese state that I want to fish. The endless acres of genetically modified corn and soybeans are turning brown. Ready for harvest.
Then I remember that I have always wanted to fish in Lake Medota, which is beneath the dome of the state capitol in Madison. Drove by Madison 50 times on my way to other places in Wis, but never stopped here. Supposed to be a great trophy fishery for bass, Esox & panfish. I swing W on Hwy 23 to Hwy 151, then head down to Madison, where I sleep in the Volvo Hotel in a megamall parking lot. Tomorrow I will fish another Lake M.
Sept 15
I wake early, and start looking for coffee and boat launches. One reason I want to fish here is that Lake Mendota reminds me of one of my other favorite lakes, Elk Lake in Victoria BC. Both are glacial lakes formed at the end of the last Ice Age. Very similar limnology. Both urban lakes, within the urban growth boundary of capitol cities, and big university towns. Both trophy SM lakes, both challenged by the same impacts from the urban development that surrounds them.
I find a state park, but they charge $4.25 to launch there. But at this hour there is nobody at the gate, so I drive down to look around. You can see the dome of the capitol building glowing on the far shore in the predawn.
The lake is calm as the day breaks. I walk the shore throwing a buzzbait. No bites. This lake looks really good. There is another launch nearby at a county park. I wait patiently outside the gate until after 7 AM, listening to Chicago sports talk radio. Finally I realize the gate is unlocked - could have driven in here at 5:30 when I got here. But by now it is already blowing hard from the SE. I get a bathymetric map from the parks lady. This is just like Elk Lake, a bit bigger and a bit deeper. On the bathy map I see a number of humps out in the middle, coming up out of deep water to 15-20 feet. In Elk Lake in Sept this is where the big SMs lurk, there and along the deep edge of the weed beds. Just like Elk Lake, here is a shallow shore of glacial rock & boulder, thick weed beds of spiralis and milfoil out to 12 ft, where the weeds end. I know how to handle a lake like this.
Very windy now. Storm coming in tomorrow, another cold front rolling down from Canada. Damn Canadians. Why can't they keep their air masses to themselves? This is a big lake. Turns out it is more than 10 times as big as Elk Lake. I take my little chart with me, but it is hopeless to locate these deep humps in this wind without a GPS. I get to a point where I can look around to see the downtown area.
On my sounder there is a stupendous looking steep dropoff heading off the end of the weedbed at the end of this point. Would love to fish it, but too windy now. There is a big area of park along the opposite shore, around this point and out of the main wind. I fish over it with the rap, Yum worm, Mepps. No bites. A quarter of a million people live in Madison, with other smaller towns around the lake, but I am the only boat on this trophy lake Not a good sign. I want to continue exploring, but I have already run my boat almost out of gas, so I head back, load up the boat, get some gas, and then decide to look for another launch. This is a REALLY big lake. Between looking for launch sites, plowing thru road reconstruction, driving right thru UW and checking out the gadzillions of gorgoeus coeds walking around, it takes me 2 1/2 hours to circumnavigate the lake by car. Like Elk Lake, Mendota has a small dam that controls the water level, but does not generate electricity. This dam has a small lock to allow boats out of the lake and down the Yahara River.
U of W is enormous. The entire campus of the little school I went to, Wabash College, could fit in the footprint of the football stadium of UW. Very different from U of Victoria, UW is right downtown, directly beside the capitol building.
Turns out that by dumb luck I stumbled upon the only free boat launch on the lake in the dark this morn. I end up back where I started, and head out again. Bad choice. Should have paid the $8 and launched from the other side. Now I must pound thru 1.5-2 ft whitecaps for half an hour to get across the lake, end even so there is no calm water on the other side except for a bay behind limestone cliffs.
I get a small bass to chase the yum worm under a boat dock. Quite shallow under these cliffs - only 3 ft deep. Need to go out to that deep weed edge, but it is so windy that I wimp out. Still hopeless to locate the deep humps in this wind. The fishermen I talk to all tell me this is a great fishing lake, but nobody has been catching anything for the past couple weeks. A lady in the boat with her husband immediately asks me if I am Canadian. She can tell by my accent. Is it that obvious, after all these years?
Starting to get dark now, so I head back across to the point I was hoping to fish. Great day for sailing, not so good in a Bullship.
I try to throw a jig down, but I get blown off the spot instantly. Not my cup of tea. The only calm spot on the lake is the same shore I fished this morning, so I drift down it with the wind, throwing the rap into superb shoreline habitat. No bites. Like the brothers at St Nanzianz, I have lost my mojo. No fish here for me. I head to a sports bar for crappy dinner to watch the Giants BB game. Then sleep in the car on a suburban street.
Sept 15
I plan to go out again at dawn, weather permitting, but the weather does not permit. The instant I turn the key and start the Volvo it begins to rain. Hopeless anyway, cuz it is screaming windy from the N. Does not take much wind to blow this big lake out. I will head on to Chi town. I go down Hwy 51 thru Stoughton, then wander slowly down little county roads. Must use the compass to make sure I am going S - no sun to guide me. In the Rock R watershed now, trib to Mississippi. I find a nice little county park. Must be the headwaters of the Rock, pretty small river here.
A few miles later I see that this is not the Rock but a trib. I come upon the real Rock River, downstream from Lake Koshkanong. This was always a muddy lake, and a muddy river, which is why we never fished here when I was a kid. Drove right on by. But this spot looks fishy to me. And there are some nice fish swirling. Look like game fish chasing prey, not carp jumping for the sheer joy of being carp. I have 2 nice fish chase the rap right away. Better than I did on a whole day out on Lake Mendota. Beautiful island to camp on here, if you could get a boat onto this river.
The coons have been digging clams here. Interesting shells, didn't know they had clams like this here.
I head S, staying near the river. S of Janesville, getting very close to the Illinois state line now, where my Wis fishing license will turn into a pumpkin. I stop and talk to a black couple, fishing with stinkbait for channel catfish. I have never caught a channel cat, would like to catch one. I ask if there is a boat ramp, and they tell me there is one downstream so I drive down to find it. County park, $8 launch fee. I want to get out on this river, check it with my sounder. Lake Mendota would be a boiling froth in this wind, but it is nice on the river. I decide to pay the $8, not be so cheap this time. But first I must go back to Janesville and check my target in Google Earth first.
There is a dam in Janesville. Lots of flow coming down today.
I drive around town, looking at the river. At one parking lot there are weird conglomerations of red bugs, only in a few places, all hanging around patches of dead leaves. I think these might be box elder beetles. What they are doing and why they are doing it I have no idea.
But they seem happy.
The City of Janesville is a leading proponent of the theory of the Concrete Riparian Zone. Watershed restoration would be quick and easy along Bear Creek if you use this method.
My first impression looking around the riparian zone here is that this is a city that is likely to have recurring flooding problems. But everything looks fine now. I am just a pessimist. Later I go to a tavern to blog, and do a quick google of "Dams, Rock River, Wis". This is what comes up.
Yee shall reap what yee sow!
The bedrock under S Wisconsin and N Illinois is all solid limestone. The city of Sturgeon Bay was founded on a limestone quarrying and shipping industry. They used to build houses and big buildings out of limestone. Back when architects had a clue about class and taste and aesthetics, long before today, long before the age of tract housing. One of my grandfathers was a stone mason, so I appreciate this stonework.
Not so popular any more. Limestone and earthquakes probably do not mix well, although they have likely never had an earthquake here, and probably never will. All the old buildings here are either stone, or brick or wood upon limestone foundation. Don't see any new stone work any more. This is about the newest looking one I could find.
Very tastefull, in my opinion.
There is a big difference in the Phase II Stormwater Program here, compared to out west. In Oregon they use salmon and trout as the logo for the storm inlet marking program. But in Wisconsin they use the wily bass!
I end up spending the whole afternoon blogging. Must use other people's web connections now that I have cut the Verizon umbilical. It is OK, except for the horrible music. I pity the kids today. I was so lucky to grow up in a time when they were making great music. My parents said that it was just noise, but they were wrong. THIS is noise. I tear off little pieces of paper napkin and stuff it in my ears, but I still cannot drown out this horrid crap. And this rant is coming from the guy who used to annoy all my cubemates at work cuz I always played rock n roll so loud it leaked out of my earphones and bugged my cellmates. It is no wonder the US is bombing the crap out of helpless poor people on the other side of the world. The whole younger generation has been turned into zombies by discorapcrap headbanger garbage.
I am too cheap to waste my $8 launch fee on a half day of fishing. Must respect my Bohemian heritage! Will fish tomorrow. I have checked the Rock R in Google Earth. Looks promising. Tomorrow I will target the lowly catfish, although I expect there may also be walleye, northerns, and perhaps even a SM or 2 in this muddy river.
Sept 16
I have found a little county park, Happy Hollow, where I can launch.
The river is down. Must have shut off some of the flow thru the dam in Jaanesville. There is an interesting backwater just above the ramp. Too shallow to fish today.
The concrete riparian zone is in vogue around here too, I see.
This river is only slightly muddy, but very green with algae. Not the most promising habitat for the wily bass, but pike might like to hunt in this green soup. Might be hunting in the dawn light along this riprap, I feel.
I have switched from gold to the firetiger rap. More visible in this cloudy water. Sure enough, the lucius quickly makes an appearance. Chomps the rap along the riprap current. This one was reluctant to cooperate, but I finally persuade it to come aboard and pose for a photo upon the Seat of Fame.
I get a few more chases and hits on the tiger rap. This lure is hot. But then I carelessly bang the lure against the motor on a backcast. Snap off the diving lip. Trash an $8 lure. Must switch back to the gold rap, which does no business today. No more hits from the lucius this morn.
This river is way different from the other waters I have been on in Wis. No boulders sticking up out of deep water, no death defying falls to run into, not gonna be blown offshore and die. No shallow sectons at all, never less than 2.5 ft deep. A 5 year old kid could speed up this river. Just stay in the middle and drive as fast as you want.
I can see from Google Earth that most of this section of the river has been seriously modified - degrdaded, from a fisheries perspective - by urban and ag development. But upstream from the launch there are some big bends that look like fishy.
Some womderful habitat left here. This is what rivers used to look like.
Islands, side channels, lots of downed wood along the channel.
Some serious riparian zone here.
Absorbs and slows the flood flows, plus serves as great habitat for birds and fish. There is a cool shroom growing here.
I get no bites in the islands, don't try too hard. Must push onward, upriver.
As I get closer to town the concrete riparian zone changes to steel. Why would they possibly be having flooding problems around here?
Then another section of steel shoreline.
After which the shore turns back to concrete.
Typical urban behavior. Disrespect the riparian zone, and then bitch about the weather when it floods.
Getting near the dam in Janesville now. Here the city planning dept were graduates of the Alfred E. Neuman School of Riparian Managament. Site the monster chemical plant in the floodplain, directly downstream of the dam where the fast water plunges against the bank, then dump piles of rock into the river to armor the bank against flooding. What, me worry?
Here is what the riparian zone looks like immediately upstream from the plant:
And here is the finished product just downstream:
Now I have almost reached the dam. Too shallow to go any further.
I drift back down. Beautiful sunny day. A bit windy, would be blown right off the water at Lake Mendota, but no problem here. I try casting and power trolling the deep slots with deep running crankbaits, seeking the mysterious walleye, which is rumored to lurk in this river. No luck. Time to focus on the channel cats.
I run back down to the car and pick up my worms and book to read. I start at the same spot where the couple were fishing yesterday. He had 4 between 2-4 lbs, and said he had only been fishing for 20 minutes. Using stinkbait paste on a triple hook. Nothing bites on my nightcrawlers. I drift down and try another spot. Set out 2 rods on the bottom with nightcrawlers, and wait. Not very good at this, but at least it gives me a chance to finish Zinn's book. It started out good, but it seems like he lost interest along the way. Very disjointed and scatttered as it gets nearer the end, as if his mind was on to other things, but he had to complete this book first. Glad it is finally over, so I can get on to the Geology of the Lake Superior Region, always a fascinating topic (for me).
When the book is over I reel in my lines in frustration. One of them is coming in sideways. Turns out there is a small channel cat on the line. Ictalurus punctatus. First one I have ever caught in my life. Really nice looking fish, especially for a catfish. Out up such a ferocious fight I did not know I had a fish on until I saw it next to the boat.
I let the channel cat go and try drifting downstream and dragging a worm along the bottom. Surprisingly - for I thought the bottom would be mud - this river lives up to its name. Feels like cobble size rocks everywhere along the bottom. No bites, so I head back down to the islands. I throw out 2 rods with crawlers into a deep hole between the islands. No more book to read. This will be too boring. I will sit in the boat and eat something while I watch the poles. But before I can even open my can of chili one rod starts to jiggle. I pull tight, and there is something on the other end. Bigger this time, and much scrappier. It is another fish I have never caught before, do not even know what it is. Maybe some kind of drum. Definitely not a bongo drum. Maybe a snare drum? Probably 5-6 lbs, and puts up a good account of itself. Looks like a carp, but is too silver for a common carp. Hope it is not some kind of asian carp. They are not supposed to bite on worms. Can anybody ID this fish?
Then I notice that the line from other rod is pointing a different direction. No sign of a bite, but I reel it in. There is a fish on. Another new species for me. Looks weird, like a fish you might catch in the Bahamas. A permit or a pompano. This is the sheephead, or freshwater drum. Aplodinotus grunniens.
The poor sheephead has swallowed the hook. Blood coming out of its gills. Since I left Oregon every fish I have had online was hooked lightly in the jaws, and released without bloodshed or trauma. This is the way it goes with bait fishing. The sheephead is giong to die anyway, so I kill it and cut off a 5" strip of fillet, and replace the nightcrawler on my hook with the fillet. This should send out some smell, and draw in the big cats. But all I get is a tiny channel cat on the other worm.
I rehook the little cat thru its lip, and throw it back down. This should be a tasty morsel for the big cats. But nothing will bite. I have offended the fish gods by killing the helpless sheephead. No more bait fishing for me. I start throwing the big Mepps around, dagging it deep in the hope of enticing a big eye to bite. But all I catch is another tiny channel cat.
They are a very cool fish in their own way. Reminds me of Richard Brautigan's poem "Your Catfish Friend"
in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
at the bottom of a pond
and you were to come by one evening
when the moon was shining down into my dark home
and stand there at the edge of my affection
and think,
"It's beautiful here by this pond.
I wish somebody loved me,"
I'd love you and be your catfish friend
and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind
and suddenly you would beat peace,
and ask yourself,
"I wonder if there are any catfish in this pond?
It seems like a perfect place for them."
The big Mepps snags on a piece of wood on the bottom. Must break it off. Another expensive lure gone. No meeting with the eyes today. I throw the golden rap along the shore all evening as I drift back to the launch site. Only 1 bite. They want that tiger rap, that I busted this morning.
I load out. At the park is a guy about my age with 2 younger guys, maybe around 20. Baitchuckers fishing from the bank. I stop to talk with them. Get the impression that the older guy is the father of the younger ones. They say they are not catching anything today, but last week it was hot here. Catching big bass one after another. I am humilitated. These wormchukers are catching the wily bass, and not me? I ask what kind of bass and the older guy says SM. Makes sense that there would be SM here, with all the rocks on the bottom. But why didn't I catch any? One of the younger lads has a cellphone that takes pics. He backtracks thru the images and shows me a pic of a big SM they caught last week. It is not a SM, it is a sheephead. This guy is raising his kids to be icthyological retards. What to do? Should I tell them that they were really catching drum, not bass? Ruin the kids respect for their father? Or let them live a lie and believe their father is a great bass fisherman? I say nothing. Let them believe what they wish.
An interesting day on a new river. I am very tired from a long day on the water. Cannot stay in the park, which closes soon. I head S and pull over to the side of a little road. Tilt the seat back, listening to the Brewers vs Giants on the radio when I am startled by flashing lites. The cops wonder what I am doing. Somebody phoned in a report about a dead guy (me) in a car in the middle of nowhere. I explain, and they let me go. This will be an increasing problem from now on. Not in Wyoming any more, where I can pull over and sleep in the boat wherever I choose. All private land from now on.
I have driven all the way from Oregon to Illinois, state of my birth. A fascinating journey. Many surprises.
2 invasive species that are common out west. Expected to see lots of them here. But have not seen a single one: Starbucks and 7-11s. In Wisconsin the 7-11s are outcompeted by a new invasive species that is better adapted to the environment – the Kwik Trip gas station/convenience store. Kwik Trips have swarmed over the environment like zebra mussles in Lake Mich. Like mussels feeding on plankton, they are filter feeders, seiving the junk food dollars from the wallets of the travelling public. Not enough productivity left in the biosphere to support a 7-11 around here after the Kwik Trips have cleaned the waters.
I drive on into Beloit and sleep in a mall lot, where no one will bother me.
Sept 17
I get up and find coffee, then head S on Hwy 51. Out of Wis now.
End of my Wisconsin fishing license. I want to go by the Kishwaukee River, which is a trib to the Rock R, coming in from the E near Rockford. Most streams in this part of the world are muddy and slow, like the Rock. But the Kish used to run clear over gravel riffles. Found it during summer vacation while I was going to college. 90 miles away from Chicago, it was the closest to home stream I could find that actually had fish in it. Everything was dead where I grew up. Lots of SM and some big pike. Caught my biggest lucius ever there (until the one I caught last month on the Big Chip). Great wading stream. Then I went back again while on a visit to Chicago after I had moved to BC. Very discouraging. In the intervening years the US Army Corps of Engineers had dredged out my secret hotpsot. Turned it into a drainage channel. "Flood Control". Thanks guys.
I turn off Hwy 51 and head S and E on the smallest pavement I can find. Getting close to home now. This is a land I remember. Endless cornfields.
What is this plant?
Then I come upon this amazing empire of stuff beside the road.
How many hours did it take just to move this stuff, and pile it all out in the rain where it will surely turn to crap?
Ah, the futility of human labor...
Must look closely at these pics to appreciate the complexity...
When I get bored on these tiny roads I burn a little rubber to amuse myself. Not easy with an automatic transmission while you are towing a boat & trailer.
I get into Belvidere, Ill, where the local armory has a Sherman tank in the yard. My dad was a tank captain. Drove one of these ashore in France on D Day, blasted his way all thru France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Holland, Germany. Battle of the Bulge.
