Josh and I met back in 1991, when I showed up on the steps of A Co 2/187th. He was in the 1PLT CP talking to SSG Witherspoon, our acting PLT SGT at the time. Josh shook my hand and welcomed me to the best fighting outfit the 101st had to offer. I later realized that 1PLT owed that title to guys like him. He grew up in Oregon, somewhere remote, where the biggest threat to his family's plumbing system was a bear chewing on their water lines. He's direct without being inconsiderate. There is a recurve bow in his home that he uses with great precision in hunting deer. He'll throw a trout to the bank, as long as it was earned. In 2009, I asked him to be a groomsman in my wedding, having to drive 10+hrs each way. I hadn't seen him since 1993 we he left Fort Campbell.

Fast forward to 2011: Josh returned from AFGH - he's home for the holidays for a two week stint. The call was kept brief as he is home with his family, and I know how much that means to him. We didn't talk about the war - I didn't care to ask, and Josh is comfortable with what he does. He asked about my steelhead season, and how he remembers vividly the salmonids from the West Coast. If there was a big push of water how they would still have sea lice on them even though Josh's favorite spot was well upriver. Did Lake Michigan salmon and trout have pink flesh or was is red? And the question of lake-run steelhead vs. true anadromous fish. We agreed that once Josh finishes his last tour of duty, we'll go back to his old haunts and see what kind of fish we can get to rise.

He never says goodbye, a fact that I realized years ago. He says it's better that way. Goodbye, to Josh, is final.

This evening, I noticed snow falling outside our kitchen window and it filled me with excitement. I will always harbor a child-like fervor for snow in early winter, even moreso now as it becomes a vehicle in which trout will surge forward into streams. I imagine them finning in a slow, deep hold, waiting for another push of snow to give the river a few more inches of negotiable water as they journey upstream. Some will winter over, others will find their final sleep. They are there with me in the cold onslaught, silver-sided and determined. If I am lucky, I may get one to come visit me on the bank, both shivering in the face of the strange worlds before us.

One Year

January marks one year I have been the Chair of our TU Membership Committee. To say I have lead it would be a stretch as the guys on the committee have been great leaders. Our TU group as a whole really stays plugged in with our DNR, our local shops, and other folks who work/play the local waters - and beyond! In the past 12 months, I have been able to get to know our chapter better as well. I have gone out numerous times to local tribs this past summer and fall, and have even been show a good spot or two. Few things make me happier than when something secret, or sacred, is shared. It shows trust, and demands it in return. Sure, it may not be a complete secret - yet I think anyone who chases steelhead in SE WI has a honeyhole that they call "theirs."

Last night, we had our Holiday Party Chapter meeting. We watched "Eastern Rises" and had a gift exchange (bring one, take one). I scored a sweet set of Rising curved 'ceps and two flies that are known producers at a place I have yet to land a fish. Looking forward to New Years to say the least. All in all, I have had a great two years in this TU Chapter, and feel completely honored to Chair the Membership committee. Looking forward to another great year!

One the fishing front, my obsession with Spey wings continues. I watched a really great youtube vid of Davie McPhail tying a nice salmon spey fly - truly glad he posted that as it helps me better understand the techniqes written down in John Shewey's book "Spey and Dee Flies." I am in the process of re-vamping my tying area with two simple homemade benches for storage/work of fly materials and gun cleaning. I've been able to get my sons involved with some of the prep and construction. Tonight I finished staining bench #1. This weekend, if I don't hit the local tributary, I'll finish up bench #2. It rained steadily today, and the temps have risen a bit - to around 50 degrees. A good buddy texted me today that the fish are in, and I should check locally for action.

All in good time.

MY SAD STEELHEAD SEASON

Off to a late start. My job keeps me pinned down during September, so I wasn't able to wet lines on the first runs of salmon and trout as they pushed into the Lake Michagin tribs. There is one trib in particular that I have been to less than the Milwaukee river this year, and it is pretty much down the street from me. Pike Creek is a pretty interesting little body of water. There are sections that flow past the United States oldest operating velodrome at Washington Park, as well as through Petrifying Springs, and a golf course. The trib section that flows past the velo is partially covered in some sections as it weaves through the city. One of my favorites sections lies just below the golf course. The mouth, the picture on the right, usually has a long run parallel to the lake before cutting in to the shallows, and opening a path for spawning. One day, I headed down to find the first pool off the mouth still and looking like light chocolate milk. A walk down to the lakefront and I knew why it was so odd looking: the mouth was shut (see pic). The waves weren't pushing enough water up to re-open, so I packed it up and moved upstream. Stopped off at the rearing ponds (now empty) just for good measure.

These guys work with our DNR to assist with salmon (coho) rearing and stocking. I'd love to get in there one day with my sons and have the throw some purina fish-chow to young salmon. Just north if us in Racine is a weir, known as the Root River Steelhead Facility. Our TU chapter (www.sewtu.org) works in conjunction with the facility annually to educate and assist with some of the tasks around the facility's involvement in the DNR's stocking program. The Root is lined with folks once the runs start, some folks snag, but the good folks throw conventional of flies. Never had patience for snaggers, especially the ones who say "it was an accident. I was just drifting a spawnbag." Sure it was. Just like me cutting your line with scissors is an accident.

Milwaukee also has two really nice sets of water to fish. Jamie (getting bent and holding the fruit of his efforts) and I headed out to both this year, with Jamie putting me on some of his favorite spots. Unfortunately, the steelies were upriver, and most of the coho were tired and uninterested. Or at least that is my story.

Here is one of Milwaukee's ditchbirds: an urban Wood Duck, just watching me walk the cement waterway in search of stragglers. This guy was walking the bank with me for a bit. Looked like he may have been winged (wouldn't surprise me based on the season), as he couldn't get air under him as I walked. He just hopped up a dirt pile and hoped I would leave. Which I did after snapping this photo. I had never seen a Wood duck before. Beautiful bird, amazing plumage.

Spawn 'til you die...

But the season is not over for me yet. I am going to head out again during the coming week. Not sure where to head, but I have a few spots lined up, and hopefully a couple familiar folks will be on the water too. I'll be doing a little homework and making a few calls to pinpoint an activity on the waters that flow through the great city of Milwaukee.

RIVER RAT

I have spent a good amount of my time on the water this year stalking rivers and tributaries. I have a hard time putting to words exactly what it is about a moving body of water that truly offers a sense of "home" to me. I live around a good number of tribs, and have invested more time in these waterways this year. There is something to be said about standing in a river's autumnal flow. The quietude churned out by rushing waters guides me into a moment like nothing else has been able to do in a very long time. Many anglers comment on a sense of the spiritual while on the water. If you find God on the water, it probably means the flows were too high and you should have stayed on shore. For me, it is just a heightened sense of connectedness with everything, external and internal. Like the river, all things in contact with it are one; they are part and parcel of it. The old washes down, the new is up ahead. The river is a great metaphor. If I can find that in a few short years, I say my life is good. Very good.

Heraclitus' thoughts on "Panta rhei" was on point, folks.

One thing I have always valued in life is the journey. Moving from one point to another, having a sense of accomplishment at each step, and learning while on the go. Kinesthetic learning at it's best; on the water training. A book is the catalyst - they remaining the driving force for exploration and change in my life. A good book can change you in ways you never thought possible. I recently underwent such a change, albeit more of a silent ripple in a deep woods spring than a wave on the ocean.

This past summer, I read the book An Entirely Synthetic Fish. I highly recommend it to anyone interested in fish-stocking programs, hatchery work, invasive species populations, fly fishing, and early American ideas on sport fishing. Enough of that for now. What this book showed me, in a nutshell, is that rainbow trout are truly West Coast indigenous fish. They are also anadromous. They do not belong in the streams, rivers, and lakes across America, at least as nature had it sorted. But that was before man stuck his hands in the water and transplanted Rainbow trout throughout a good amount of American water, Lake Michigan included.

Why is this on my mind? Right now (or at least a few weeks prior), we finally had enough rain to open up the tributaries here in the SE Midwest, so our lake salmon and trout can make their runs upriver. To the logical me, the stocked rainbow trout in Lake Michigan are not true steelhead. I don't know if that is the part of me that likes to ruffle feathers, yet I have had a hard time calling lake run trout by the name "steelhead" and apparently I am not the only one. However, the stocked strains of Skamania, Chambers Creek, and Ganaraska River qualify these fish as "steelhead" based on lineage.

After conversing with a former fishery biologist, I have decided to lay down the sword of lake-run trout. It's a silly battle. And after all, for me, it is about being in the water swinging flies to these fish.

I have been to the tribs many times this season. North of my home when the flows were clicking in at 1400cfs, and when the silt disturbed by my footsteps remained hovering for a good amount of time. I have yet to bring a salmon or trout to hand this year, which means I just need more time on the waters. A fellow angler said (after 5 hours with lines in and nothing caught) that steelhead can be like musky: you just gotta keep after them and work the water. Eventually, they will come. As they do every spring and fall.

Clean Slate

I sat here the other day, actually for a quite a few days throughout the year, reading and thinking that most of what I am writing here is not what I am accustomed to writing. It was a surface level salute to my view of life and the lives around me. It wasn't bad; it just wasn't how I am accustomed to relaying my positions and interpretations of the world through which I travel. I likened my words to a painter taking photographs for the sake of quickly sharing his view, instead of following his craft.

My passions deserve more effort.