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.