Upper Au Sable River

It seems the older I get the more I am able to stop and appreciate the small things in life and nature. Must be inevitable and a sign of maturation; fish size is and can be an item of lore…if you have ever really known a fishermen then you already know what I am talking about. For me a conveniently carried small camera has really kept me accurate through the past few years. In fact, I don’t really want to hear about the ‘big-one’ unless you have a photo to back it up.

I would be lying if I told you that I don’t think about big fish…and often. I do. They are on my mind like sports, shopping or food is to other folks. I like to think about where ‘the big-one’ would be in any particular stream or lake that I fish. There are times that I’d rather catch fewer…or maybe even very few fish in trade for that one hog that really puts a bend in the rod.

Just recently on my trip to Northern Michigan I had an opportunity to fish the very famous Au Sable River. Possibly you haven’t even heard of the Au Sable, but please take my word on this one…this is one of ‘those’ rivers that folks journey to from all over our planet. It was on the banks of the Au Sable that TU (Trout Unlimited) was formed way back in July of 1959 in the little town of Grayling, Michigan.
It all started when a group of concerned Michigan anglers banded together to ensure the health of trout, their habitat, and the sport of angling. Just two years later, the fledgling conservation organization had won its first victory: Michigan had replaced its indiscriminate stocking of catchable-sized trout with stream improvement programs, fingerling planting, and protective fishing regulations. This might sound a bit boring to a novice angler but for a fly-guy like myself who is out there on the water a couple hundred times a year…this was indeed the genesis of much of our cold water fishing that we know today. TU has grown into a sizeable group of 150,000 members with over 400 local chapters; not bad for 50 years’ worth of work.

Vickie and I were headed south from Mack Island; this past summer I had purchased an awesome book that listed most of the campgrounds in the state of Michigan and a quick read at the first rest-area told me that in about another hour we would be just a few miles from The Hartwick Pines Campground…a little more info told me that the East Branch of the Upper Au Sable River flowed within a mile or so of the campground. This was all I needed to read, we made a left off of I-75, then north three miles on M-93…and our campground was ready for a night’s stay.

Set-up on our little camper doesn’t take long, in fact Vickie and I have it down to a science and in less than an hour I was driving down a small gravel drive in search of the Au Sable. I wasn’t for sure I had arrived until I read a sign that told me this river and this area was home to the fabled waters of Trout Unlimited. I parked my Yukon, grabbed my 3-weight rod, lanyard full of small flies, waders, boots…and off I went with nothing and no one around; oh and my camera which is always a part of my gear.

Picture a stream about half the size of one lane of traffic; very tannic or tea-colored in appearance. Cold and clear water with snags, dead logs and overhead debris everywhere. Let’s just say that this wasn’t going to be an easy time of casting…let alone catching? I stripped off about 20 foot of line and started false casting when I felt the first drop of rain. Seconds later…it was raining steadily which made the fishing even a bit tougher.

The only thought in my head was pretty simple, “I’m getting to fish the Au Sable River-how many other great fly-guys had walked these hallowed waters”? I pressed on and managed to accurately cast my bug into several likely holding spots in search of a member of the local population of brook trout. Grayling were once the main species here on the Au Sable but due to intense logging over a hundred years ago, grayling are now completely gone.
The water in the stream was both cold and flowing at a surprising rate, as I walked upstream it was an effort to move along steadily and stealthily…all while false casting and trying to pick out a spot that I could land a fly and one whereby I thought a brook trout might be lurking. It was a chilly 51 degrees and the rain continued at a steady rate when I saw what had to be a holding spot for a trout. I glanced behind me and there was a low overhanging limb; I would have to cant my rod and get my fly line to lay out underneath the snag all while softly placing my fly into the current. The line quickly began to move towards me as I stripped in line…then a pause happened and without thinking I strip set my line with my left hand. Was it a snag or could it possibly be a trout. Seconds later a beautiful sight occurred as one of the most colorful fish I have ever caught launched itself upward, clearing the water before splashing down with a forceful tug.

I held my rod hand high and slowly eased line back toward me trying to keep the fish from snagging on any one of a hundred snarls waiting to grab me…seconds later I softly cradled in my palm a native brookie. It was just one small fish but what a fish it was. I snapped the photo you see above (black and white just doesn’t do it justice) then carefully popped my fly loose and watched as my Au Sable trophy swam off to once again take up residence in its very own ambush point.

As I made my way back downstream I was filled with a warmth that comes with catching and landing a native brook trout…and doing so in the fabled waters of the Au Sable. My fish could have been larger but it wouldn’t have been more special as I completely Enjoyed the Great Outdoors.