Dan Donarski is back – this time with a creative twist.  Check out this fly-fishing story – do you know someone who could play the starring role?

(Fly fishing after dark on rivers like the Indian and Escanaba in the UP, or the Au Sable, Manistee, or PM in the Lower, are simply pure magic. Here’s a scene that could feature you.)

Like Christmas for a young child wishing the time was now, not later. That’s what the day has been like. Instead of Christmas the wish was for nightfall, and the hopeful subsequent trout-rise.

A breeze of any kind barely rustled the leaves in the trees during the afternoon. The temperature rose so quickly into the low 90s, that a perceptible fellow may have felt the rush of air escaping through backyard thermometers as the mercury rushed higher. Even those unable to discern this could certainly feel the breezes from tempers rising even higher than the mercury.

“Perfect”, he thought sitting on an ancient fallen hemlock alongside the Indian River. Mosquitoes tormented him as they needled him as relentlessly as the sun’s heat had hours before. “Just perfect”. Even now, at just a hair past 9:30, with the clouds kissed in the hues of cotton candy, the temperature was still in the 80s. Save for the mosquito wings, that slight afternoon breeze was a distant memory.

Sweat ran down the middle of his back, across his brow, stinging his eyes as it trickled from his graying hair beneath the well-stained cap. His legs wrapped in old canvas duck waders were as wet from the sweat as if he had been wading all day in pants.

When he got to the hemlock an hour or so earlier, the deer flies and horseflies, the stable flies and black flies, seemingly all that bites and flies descended down upon him. Nothing on the river showed promise. Not even the ever present skipper brook trout, the style that come so small that once he set the hook they come skipping back at him, were out.

But that was an hour ago. The skippers were out now. Tell-tale rings from their rises expanded in ever increasing circles on the river’s still surface. Most were upstream, just behind the remnants of an old white pine that never made it to the mills in Manistique.

Over the past 20 years he had sat here, watching the pine. Each year there was less and less of it. Succumbing to the tugs of current, the crash of break-up ice, and the slow work of various mosses and lichens it was not quite what it once was. Not all that different than him. Still holding strong, but the holding was getting more and more precious.

As the cotton candy clouds turned from vivid orange to deep red he opened his fly box, choosing a scruffy looking pattern that used to be called a mouse. Tying the fly on the line in a loop knot of 10-pound test– thank God for magnifying glasses– he tested the knot with a quick heavy tug. Satisfied that the knot was right he continued to watch, and wait.

Nighthawks and whip-poor-wills slashed against the purple night sky. Above them a crescent moon slid silently further to the west like a silent canoe.

Finally he made a concession to the mosquitoes and started to apply bug dope. He was careful of the fly and the line. Using the backs of his hands as the spreaders he kept his fingers and palms repellent free. A few years ago some fly dope had come in contact with his line and the result was melted plastic and another $45 for a new line. Not to mention a ruined fishing trip upon its untimely discovery.

Just after 10 he thought he heard something in the river just upstream from his seat on the hemlock. Straining his eyes he could make out a doe and two fawns crossing the river. The doe was sure footed along the bottom while the fawns flailed away in the deeper sections, forced to swim.

The deer startled a barred owl when they came out of the river. The owl flew down the river directly in front of him, landing in a popple, or aspen tree on the other side.  Displaying its displeasure of having to move the owl’s call of “Who-cooks-for-you, who-cooks-for-you-too?” echoed through the valley. It was joined by at least three others answering that questioning call.

His ears caught the familiar sound of a big trout feeding, that unmistakable sound of a big brown coming up for a bug, or a mouse, or something substantial in that huge discourteous slurp. He had once read that the sound was not unlike a pig falling off a diving board but to him it reminded him of an old girlfriend’s father and how he slurped soup.

Not long after came another slurp from the same location, pinpointing the rise. And then another from a bit upstream of the first two. Then another from just downstream. What was a barren river just two short hours ago was no alive with feeding trout. Under the cover of darkness, and urged on by the hatch of giant mayflies, the trout had come out of their hiding places and were now feeding. He thought that his old girlfriend’s father had all his brothers with him tonight.

He moved into the water slowly, gently making his way towards the nearest soup slurper. The water felt cool against the canvass and pulled at his legs.  Playing out line by feel he measured by sound the distance and let the tattered mouse fall near the last rise.  He used mouse flies almost exclusively at night, leaving the dainty mayfly imitations to the more cultured fly anglers.

In more of a heavy swoosh than a slurp the mouse disappeared. Raising his rod quickly he could feel the heavy pulse of a big trout as it dug for the cover of an undercut bank. His reel whined, his rod arced over, his face became taught. The big brown ran for the tangle of a bak-side sweeper. Putting more pressure on the rod, and from the rod to the fish, he turned it. Now the fish bull-dogged, straining for deeper water, straining to find the current. Soon, the fish tired, and slid into weathered ash and cotton mesh net. Twenty-two inches of Indian River brown trout.

The old man cradled the fish in his hands, letting the water run through its gills, gaining its strength back. He could feel the trout grow strong, and with a shake of its head and a thrust of its tail it disappeared into the inky water.

Five minutes later he heard another big fish. Again he measured the distance with his ear and sent the mouse pattern upstream. Another slurp, another hook set. The fish was now joined to the old man. Just as quickly as it had become fastened tight to the old man, the fish became unbuttoned. And, just as quickly as the bugs and the trout became active, they just as quickly quit.

The old man went back to the hemlock and sat down. He listened as the world went to sleep. Walking back to his truck his smile was wide.

Dan Donarski is an award-winning journalist/photographer and author. He specializes in the outdoors and adventure travel. When he’s not out and about he lays his head in Sault Ste. Marie.

Runaway with George Zimmermann on board crossed the finish line in Mackinac of the Pure Michigan Bayview Mackinac Race at approximately 2am this morning.  Listen to his final audio blog about his experience aboard the Runaway and check out some more amazing pictures taken during the race. 

Download audio file (final.mp3)

The race may be over for Runaway,  but you can follow the rest of the action on our site!

As the Pure Michigan Bayview Mackinac Race continues, listen to this audio blog from our own George Zimmermann on the Runaway from earlier today.

Download audio file (sundayam.mp3)

And remember all the boats are equipped with a GPS tracking system, and we are proud to be the exclusive host of the live tracking.  Follow Runaway, and all the action on our site!

It’s a beautiful morning in Port Huron as our own George Zimmermann and the crew of the Runaway get ready to start the Pure Michigan Bayview Mackinac Race.

Listen to George’s audio blog and check out the slide show of what is happening in Port Huron as they get ready to race.  Check in later tonight for an update on the Runaway’s progress.

Download audio file (porthuronam.mp3)

All the boats are equipped with a GPS tracking system, and we are proud to be the exclusive host of the live tracking.  Follow Runaway, and all the action on our site!

Thanks to Matt Eder, co-creator of MichiganDads.com, for sharing his experiences from his recent family trip to Oscoda.

The water was cool but the sand was warm. The birds happily chirped as the squirrels scampered around the lush trees and green grass looking for food. Sure, it rained a bit – seems like it does every year – but it was brief and could not dampen the spirits of our surroundings. My two-and-a-half-year-old son squealed with joy as Lake Huron nipped at his toes. Even six-month-old Anabelle seemed happier breathing in the fresh “up north” air.

For many Michiganians, the trek up north is steeped in tradition. Maybe it was summers at the family cottage on Houghton Lake or winter weekends snowmobiling in Munising. When talking about taking trips up north the final destination and activity was almost irrelevant – the only thing that mattered was the departure date.

I spent plenty of time up north as a younger lad, but over the last 10 years or so, my wife and I have made an annual canoe trip with her family to Oscoda. We would lazily canoe (float) down the Au Sable River for the better part of an afternoon drinking, munching and enjoying the views. Our getaway weekend often coincided with the longest, non-stop canoe-only race in North America, the Au Sable Canoe Marathon, which starts in Grayling and finishes in Oscoda. Now that we have young kids we’ve unfortunately had to forgo the canoe portion of the trip, but fun still abounds.

For the past two years we’ve rented cabins from Perfect Landing. The cabins are on Lake Huron just north of downtown Oscoda. They are clean, well maintained and full of the amenities that make you feel right at home (cable TV, washer/dryer, full kitchen, grills, fireplace, etc.). Plus, the price is reasonable so I see no reason why we won’t be back again next year.

With a grill, fire pit, Lake Huron and plenty of seating in the backyard, cooking for ourselves has become the favored option for meals. The kitchen is serviceable, so breakfasts, brunches or lunches are easy enough to prepare. And who doesn’t enjoy a bonfire with barbeque and s’mores at night? When we do venture out for a meal, it’s usually to Bavarian Bakery & Restaurant for breakfast or Au Sable Inn for the all-you-can-eat perch or cod dinner (I prefer the lake perch). Oscoda is not a foodie town, but both of these places offer quality food at reasonable prices. Add in a dose of kid-friendliness and decent service and you’ve had a good meal and an enjoyable experience. Plus, someone else washes the dishes!

If playing in the backyard and swimming in the lake isn’t your cup of tea, Oscoda has plenty of fun activities to keep you entertained. Canoeing and tubing down the Au Sable River rank at the top of my list and Oscoda Canoe Rental has always served us well. If floating down the river sounds like too much work, you can also tour the Au Sable River from the cozy confines of the Ausable River Queen. And of course, there are gems to be found exploring quaint downtown Oscoda in addition to up north staples like putt-putt golf (or real golf if you’re lucky enough) and various museums like the Oscoda Historical Museum or the Wurtsmith Yankee Air Force Museum.

The museums sound interesting but I can’t vouch for them because I haven’t been able to pry my son away from the sand and water. And to be honest, I haven’t wanted to. Being barefoot in the sand and splashing in the waves provides a release for me like nothing else can. Maybe it’s being outdoors and enjoying the company or, maybe it’s being on the same emotional and intellectual level as a two-year-old for a change. Maybe it’s a combination. Either way, it’s Pure Michigan and I love it.

Our trip home wouldn’t be complete without a stop at the Big Red Barn, a well-known Oscoda gift shop that sells every imaginable sort of nick-nack.  From there it’s US-23 South to I-75 South back to reality. During the car ride home my son said, “Daddy, maybe we go back to cabin up north soon?” He is already hooked on northern Michigan and he’s not even three yet. I am certain it won’t be long before our daughter is expressing the same feelings. The tradition continues.

What are some of your favorite up north destinations? Do you have any fun, unique up north traditions? Please share them with us in the comments section.          

Matt Eder is a lifelong Michigan resident who is passionate about his family and his home state.  He works on marketing and branding issues for a Michigan-based manufacturing company by day, spends evenings and weekends with his family and devotes the rest of his waking hours to making MichiganDads.com another home-grown success story.

Thanks to Karen and Greg Evans for sharing how they’re preparing for their big U.P. backpacking adventure by exploring some trails a little closer to home…

On a sunny June weekend, my husband and I hiked 22 miles through wetlands and up steep hills. We saw snakes, beautiful birds and amazing vegetation. We had our tents on our backs, and our dog by our side. Were we in Yellowstone? Nope! Surprisingly, we were just a few miles outside of Chelsea, right in Southeast Michigan.

Pup is all packed up!

The Waterloo-Pinckney trail could take 4 days to hike from end to end. It covers the Waterloo and Pinckney recreation areas, which have several campgrounds and a nature center between them. Our original plan was to hike about 18 miles, but it’s easy to take a few wrong turns because there are lots of horse and bike trails in addition to the W/P trail (as it is marked in blue paint on some trees).

Getting off course, though, led us to some of the most amazing sights of our journey. We walked through a flowing stream with small waterfalls in it. We came upon Camp Waterloo, a state prison that was shuttered in 2001, but was at one time a POW camp for Germans during World War II.

A good sign...literally!

We took this trip in preparation for a week of hiking through the backcountry at Tahquamenon Falls and on Grand Island.  One thing we’ve learned: We’re hooked. Seeing up close the things we miss when speeding down the freeway restores that sense of adventure you used to get from setting up a fort in your back yard.

From our very amateur perspective, here are some of our other lessons learned:

• You will find yourself getting as excited to see a trail sign as you did when you got accepted to college.
• Sometimes, taking a wrong turn can lead to amazing sights you would never have known about had you stayed on the path. Stop, admire, photograph, take it in.
• You will probably not bring enough water. Have a filter handy, and be aware of the rivers and streams on your route.
• Yelling at mosquitoes might temporarily make you feel better, but it’s only going to egg ‘em on. Find the best bug spray for your region, and apply evenly and often.
• Backpacking might just be a great substitute for pre-marital counseling. You will learn a lot about each other and how you handle stressful situations.
• You can never pack lightly enough. Things you don’t need: several magazines, video and SLR cameras, several changes of clothes, Acme-brand anvil (unless you’re on a route known for its roadrunner population). Things you do need: lightweight camping stove, waterproof matches, compass, sunscreen, food (tip: instant mashed potatoes!), sense of adventure.
• Michigan is amazingly beautiful – and you don’t have to go far to figure that out.

Along the Waterloo-Pinckney trail

Ready to go? Check out Jim Dufresne’s Backpacking in Michigan and get ready to be inspired. (Take photocopies of his chapters with you if you go – his narrative gives you some valuable landmarks to look out for to stay on course. We’ll be doing this next time!)

Karen and Greg Evans are lifelong Michiganders embarking on a new shared passion for backpacking! They love traveling with their pup, a rescue named Addison, to spots around the state (including bed and breakfasts on Lake Michigan, skiing up in Boyne, and walking to the fun of downtown Royal Oak). When not enjoying the beauty of our state, Greg is founder and President of Synectics Media, Inc., an advertising and web firm, and Karen is the Director of Undergraduate Management Programs and of Intellectual Property Projects at Lawrence Technological University.

Tina Lassen, Michigan Travel Ideas contributing writer, gives insiders tips on affordable one-day trips in the UP. For more affordable family vacations ideas, see the article in the 2010 issue of Michigan Travel Ideas.

A good place to base yourself is in Paradise at either Harmon’s Birchwood Lodge cabins ($66-$130/night, three-night minimum in summer) along Whitefish Bay or at the Shipwreck Museum ($150/night, includes museum admission) in the restored 1923 Coast Guard lifeboat station crew quarters.

Platforms provide great views of the 200-foot-wide wall of frothing water in Tahquamenon Falls State Park. Photographer: Jason Lindsey

Then, head to Tahquamenon Falls State Park (state park vehicle permit required, $6 residents, $8 nonresidents). For a better experience, bypass the entrance to the Lower Falls and continue to the Upper Falls. This is the river’s marquee cascade, a 200-foot-wide wall of frothing amber fury. It’s even more majestic when you have the viewing platform to yourself, so it pays to get there early.

Then, backtrack to the Lower Falls. Better yet, try to talk someone in your group to shuttling the car and hike the four-mile River Trail to the Lower Falls and enjoy surprisingly quiet trails that lead to century-old white pines and wilderness lakes.

Enjoying the serenity of the four-mile River Trail from the Upper Falls to the Lower Falls. Photographer: Dennis Cox

When you leave continue southwest on M-123, then west on H-37 to Oswald’s Bear Ranch where wild bears (none are bred or purchased) roam to and fro. Oswald’s provides a lifelong home for young bears whose mothers have been killed or mature bears who, for a variety of reasons, can’t be released in the wild. Admission fees ($15 per vehicle) help fund the bears’ diet of fruit and meat purchased by the ton.

Total cost for the whole family? Less than $30.

Trip Guide:

1)      Tahquamenon Falls State Park: Hiking, fishing, nature programs and camping centered around the Tahquamenon River and its waterfalls. Vehicle permit required. Rent rowboats or canoes in the Lower Falls concession area.

2)      Oswald’s Bear Ranch: Open Memorial Day weekend through late September. Admission $15/vehicle.  

3)      The Tahquamenon Logging Museum: Chronicles the region’s 19^th-century lumbering era, with displays on life in the logging camps, the evolution of logging equipment, and fun old photos and newspaper clippings from the region. Small admission fee.

4)      The Toonerville Trolley: This classic UP attraction combines a narrow-gauge, open-air railroad ride with a boat tour to the Upper Falls. Train/Boat tour runs six or more hours; train-only trip is two hours.

5)      Tahquamenon Falls Brewery and Pub: Homemade pasties, wild rice soup, whitefish sandwiches and other local flavors round out a comprehensive menu for lunch or dinner. Nice timber-frame building with deck in Upper Falls. Entrees $6-$24.

When Tina Lassen was 8 years old, she watched wide-eyed as a moose trundled out of the woods on Isle Royale and into a wild Lake Superior bay. She’s been enamored with Michigan ever since. Tina has written extensively about the state for magazines like Midwest Living and National Geographic Adventure, and for guidebooks including Moon Michigan, National Geographic’s Guide to America’s Outdoors: Great Lakes, and 1,000 Places to See Before You Die: US and Canada.

As Michigan Travel Ideas editors and writers hit the roads of the Great Lakes state in search of their own “Michigan Moments,” Terri Ketcham, Michigan Travel Ideas Associate Art Director, shares hers from a trip she took to Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore.

The breathtaking view from overlook Number 9 at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore

At the end of a long day of scouting in and around Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore, my group (which includes Joan, our project manager and Jason, our photographer and Talia, his assistant) finds ourselves at overlook Number 9 at sunset. Most visitors have left for the day and it’s really quiet. As we admire the scenery, I think about the signage we passed that piqued my interest:  

 Warning: Steep Bluff: 450 foot drop to Lake Michigan. Return climb is extremely exhausting. Do not run. Do not throw rocks.

I lean over to Talia and whisper that I am considering trying the climb. “You can do it,” she says, “Jason did it once.” That’s all I need to hear.

I quietly leave the group and slowly make my way down the dune. About halfway I get a little scared, it’s getting dark and I am alone! I sit to think.

“OK Terri, you can do this. Look at all of those tracks, you certainly are not the first here! Lots of people accomplish this everyday… Maybe I should go back up? I am only halfway and all I can see is sky and sand. What if I can’t make it? What if they have to call in a rescue mission? I would never, ever hear the end of that one back at the office!”

After 10 minutes I decide to continue even though I fear it will take me hours to return to the top. And then, I hear something scurrying around me.

A view of the shoreline at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore and the South Manitou Lighthouse. Photo by Jason Lindsey.

“Oh no. What is that?”

I look up and begin to make out little heads popping out from everywhere as kids begin to rain down all around me. Scampering, laughing, giggling! What has taken me what seems like an eternity, they are accomplishing in mere minutes!

We all meet at the waters edge and I learn the kids are from a church youth group in Hudson, Michigan. They quickly inform me it does not “count” unless you dip your hand in the water. “Well, OK then,” as I splash the water. But then I look up the dune and my stomach drops. I should have gone back when I had the chance.

I have the good fortune to overhear one of the youth leaders coaching a boy on how to get up the dune—climb like a crab. Go about 10 big strides and then stop and rest.

We make our way up the sand dune and are welcomed by a small cheering crowd. I did it! No rescue mission for me!

I’m thinking I should have a T-shirt made…

Terri Ketcham is the Associate Art Director for Michigan Travel Ideas magazine. She is responsible for the photography, design and production prep work needed to get the pages off to press.

Thanks to Stephanie Irwin for sharing her True North with us. 

When I was little the car ride up north was long.  My grandparents had a cottage in Oscoda and my family drove up from Flint most every weekend in the summers.  My mom, brother and I, bags packed, would wait eagerly for my dad to get home from work on Fridays and we’d head out of the driveway only minutes after he’d pulled in.   Just when the car ride was getting the best of me I’d hear my mom say, “There it is, the big lake behind the trees!”  From the back seat I would sit up tall, crane my neck to the right, focusing on the spaces between the trees and searching for glimpses of blue.  It was always exhilarating yet at the same time calming to connect with Lake Huron again. 

Sunrise over Lake Huron

When I was 12 my grandma sold her cottage but the big lake hadn’t seen the last of me.  We would be drawn back together some 30 years later when I was least expecting it.  I had never given much serious thought to buying a place up north, I guess figuring I could never afford that kind of luxury, until one day in January of 2006 when what had always been just a romantic notion suddenly became a real possibility.  By word of mouth I happened to hear of a little one-bedroom cottage for sale in Au Gres.  When I heard the particulars and saw a picture of the view, I don’t know if it all began to blur or if it became perfectly clear.  I could do this, by God, I could do this!   

When I told my brother I was buying a cottage and that it might be a whole new chapter in my life, he claimed that was an understatement and that it would instead be “a whole new book.”  It has indeed been just that.  It turns out the cottage is on that stretch of highway where Lake Huron is first visible, a hidden jewel called Hammel Beach.  It’s such a treasure that I just can’t keep it to myself.  I invite every friend, relative and colleague to visit, hoping they will feel and experience what I do: the fascination with nature’s simple complexities, that it lives and is conscious, and the miraculousness of it all.    

The view of the lake isn’t just a sea of blue.  There’s White Stone Point to the left, Charity Island straight ahead and Point Lookout to the right where the wealthy from Bay City used to come by boat to vacation 100 years ago.  Between Point Lookout and the island is the Gravely Shoal Lighthouse which marks the shipping channel.  Day and night, seven days a week, freighters pass by in either direction between Charity and the light.  Up the beach is a little tributary flowing into the lake called Silver Drain and there’s actually a cottage built on a bridge over it, between the lake and the highway.  That bridge I’m told was on the original road, later replaced by the highway. 

I find that I’m a better version of myself at the lake.  I read more, write more and paint again.  I walk the beach with my camera and meet neighbors.  Hammel Beach is my muse.  It even feels good to do chores and maintain the place.  There’s a hardware store/fudge shop across the road, run by a couple from Ann Arbor who moved north to live their dream.  I find that fixing the sink is more palatable when you’ve “got fudge” as their sign says.  Nearby is the Cozy Cove Resort run by Martha and Stuart.  And up the road a bit is a gas station/ice cream shop owned by my next-door-neighbors.  It’s decorated in a tropical motif inside proving even people who live in paradise have their fantasies. 

A good friend of mine, as her little boy screamed in delight upon their arrival, said, “Oh I’m in heaven.”  I agree.  When you see bald eagles soaring by on a regular basis and yet it never becomes commonplace, heavenly is the word.  Reflective sunsets make the whole sky pink and blue and lavender, sometimes with a streak of rainbow, long after the sun itself has disappeared.  You discover that the lakes have tides that are visible within half an hour’s time.  Blue herons feed in the moonlight and the swans sleep out on the water.  On a clear day the thumb is visible with the naked eye, even the new wind turbines dotting the horizon.  A friend of mine finds a Petoskey stone.  You take a tube out to the sandbar and let the waves gently carry you to shore as a loon feeds and her eight black fuzzy babies take turns riding on her back.  Children catch tadpoles, build sandcastles and wish they could stay longer. 

Stephanie Irwin is a lifelong Michigan resident.  She writes essays and has been published in magazines and newspapers.  She also takes documentary photographs of the Lake Huron shoreline, several of which have been published as well as sold through the Flint Institute of Arts.

Dan Donarski is back, and this time, he’s sharing some great advice on how to make the most of bass fishing season, which opens this Saturday!

The last Saturday of May is upon us, and that brings bass fishing season! (Lake St. Clair and the St. Clair and Detroit rivers don’t open for a few weeks yet)

One of my military instructors implored our class to “Go for the bronze.” He felt that unless you were incredibly lucky that the gold was out of reach. If you achieved silver then you’d be green with envy about not getting the gold and be mad at yourself. For this fellow, if you got the bronze you got your medal, everyone behind you did not, and you should be quite happy. In military parlance, you’d be a stud.

When it comes to the bass world, going for the bronze may as well be going for the gold. Smallmouths or bronzebacks, no matter what you call them, are the studs of the Great Lakes bass scene. To be quite frank, smallies make largemouths look like pigs with fins.

For the fly rodder, particularly in the early part of the summer, smallies will give you the time of your life. Going for the bronze doesn’t get any better than right now.

It’s romance time in the world of the smallmouth bass. The fish are cruising the shallows, anywhere from two to eight feet of water, searching out the perfect matrimonial bed to do their duty and ensure that the species continues to flourish.

Fine gravel or gritty sand is what you should be looking for in these shallows. A nice break, where the water drops quickly to deeper water, makes the area even more enticing. Throw in a few good sized rocks or even boulders for added cover and you’ll be in the smallies’ version of the No-Tell Motel.

Here’s what you’re going to need to get in on this late May and June action:

• A nice, fast action 7- or 8-weight rod is perfect. Attach a matching reel that has a smooth disc drag and you’re all set. In most cases with this early summer bite you’ll be just fine using a weight-forward floating line. When you do need to go deeper, you can always attach one of those short lead heads to help get your fly down. Or simply use a small split shot a couple of feet above the fly.
• For a leader you can stay away from the pre-tied variety that go for four dollars or more. Instead grab a couple 100 yard spools of mono, one in the 10-pound class and the other in six.
• Tie up your leader using six feet of the 10-pound attached to the fly line (or the lead head) and then tie in a 4-foot section of the six to use as your tippet. The easiest knot to tie these pieces of mono together with is the double surgeons, which is basically just two overhand knots. Of course, you can always get fancy by tying a blood knot or two uni knots but these take a bit longer to tie.
• Fluorocarbon lines definitely have their place for leaders and especially tippets. If you find yourself in clear water these new semi-invisible lines will go a long way towards improving your hook-up rate. Smallies aren’t particularly line shy, but they are aware of their surroundings and what looks like trouble.
• Flies are an easy matter. Like just about anything in the fly fishing world you need to match the hatch. For smallies you’ll need to have a selection of streamers that imitate the local baitfish and a few that come in hot colors (yellow seems to really excite these fish). Then you should put a few crayfish imitations in the fly box along with a variety of leech patterns. Always leave room for a number of Wooly Buggers. These impressionistic flies, rather than the imitating varieties, are smallmouth candy. Depending on the retrieve, they can give the impression of a baitfish, crayfish, or leech.

Fly rodding smallies in late May and early June is a load of fun but, like all things with flies or fake baits like spinners and plastics, sometimes they just don’t do the job. While I’d rather catch them on a fly or plastic, the mission is to catch fish, not to practice your casting.

So, when the fly, plastic and hardware bite isn’t biting, go to the real thing. Big juicy crawlers and/or squiggling minnows. These are as close to “no-fail” baits as you are going to get.

The set up is simple. For rivers, simply tie in a No. 4 hook on the terminal end and place a splitshot about 18 inches above the hook. Load that hook up a crawler or minnow and send it into the current, preferably a current break or a hole created by a mid stream obstruction. Now, keeping a tight line let the thing tumble with the current. When it gets directly below you reel it back in and cast again.

In lakes it is the very same set up. While you could simply cast this offering out and let it sit on the bottom and wait for the fish to come to you, there is a better way. Start casting and let the bait fall to the bottom. Now, very slowly start reeling the bait back to you keeping the bait next to the bottom. When, not if, you get that tell-tale tap, stop reeling, give the fish some line, and when the fish moves off with your bait, hammer the hook home. If you fish two rods, let one sit and fan cast the other. Unless you like buying new outfits, you’ll want to keep the bail open on the stationary rod.

Where to go? Let’s see, there’s Little Bay de Noc, the Menominee River, Lake Gogebic and the Les Cheneaux Islands, along with Drummond Island in the U.P. In the lower peninsula look at Wilderness State Park, Beaver Island, Grand Traverse Bay and the Lower AuSable River. The Kalamazoo River, along with the other drowned river mouth lakes along the Michigan coast will also be worthwhile.

Dan Donarski is an award-winning journalist/photographer and author. He specializes in the outdoors and adventure travel. When he’s not out and about he lays his head in Sault Ste. Marie.