My Annual Migration

I’ve lived at least a few thousand miles from my hometown for going on four years now, but have returned during each of the past winters to spend the holidays with family and friends.

A midnight suicide run to the tributaries of the great lakes has become a tradition.  Late December isn’t the most productive time on those waterways, but the weekends spent on them with my brother and Adam, and occasional guests like our friends and fathers, result in some potent memories.

I’m drawn back for many reasons, but the scenery, moments and fish captured in the images below will explain better than my words ever could.

Sharing

On the second day, we met up with some new acquaintances. They were some of my brothers friends from Lancaster and it was their first foray on this section of the Great Lakes tributaries. I partnered up with Tom, whom I fished with before, and took him to a seam that I knew held fish. The bank was pretty tight so we decided to rotate the water, fish for fish. Something you don't see that often on the tribs. Any form of etiquette is rarely seen. I wish I could say that for the first few hours that morning, I matched Tom fish for fish. But he outscored me 5-3. However, numbers do not matter. It was a great few hours of action. It was great to not only share in the water, but to also share in his first tributary brown trout and largest steelhead he has ever caught. As I landed the fish, I could see his knees shaking and I could hear a giddiness in his voice.

That's what counts. 

Back in the Saddle

It had been three weeks since making our way north to the tributaries of the Great Lakes, our longest siesta of the fall season. A last second decision had us staying home for Thanksgiving rather than abandoning our families for fish. Thursday night, our stomachs full, we set sail to Western New York for our first foray there in 2011. Our best success on tributaries usually comes here and this mini-trip didn't disappoint as we landed more fish in three days than our combined total swinging flies on the Salmon river over the course of several trips. Mind you, there is a big difference in swinging flies vs. dead drifting nymphs and eggs.

Late November is an interesting time on the tributaries, especially in New York. You have a complete mixed bag of fish. You have spawning and post-spawn brown trout. The majority of the brown trout are in a post-spawn faze where they are pretty aggressive to the fly or are dropping back. Over the course of three days, we caught mainly brown trout. Only two still had their eggs. You also have your steelhead and rainbows, some of which are fresh, and others that have been in the tribs for a few months. Getting in the way, are the salmon. They are on there last legs and tend to not get out of the way of a fly. That, or they end up taking your fly. Then your faced with the choice of landing a frankenfish, or simply breaking the fly off. Adam had a half dead salmon crush a streamer while stripping it back in to cast again.

On this particular day, we were just happy to be back in the saddle. I can't remember the last time we were on a fishing trip and didn't take many pictures. Usually, we help each other land fish and take pictures of the catch. This time we were by ourselves content with just catching fish. It felt good catching steelhead and brown trout, landing them, and simply releasing them back to the water without trying to get a good picture. I also can't remember the last time I didn't take pictures of scenery, wildlife, or people doing crazy things. I think it boils down to the fishing being really good.

Here are some of the few.