As opportunity presented itself in the form of overlapping scheduling, Poindexter and I were going to be wife and baby-less for a few days. This was a beautiful recipe for disaster so of course we planned accordingly. With very little push I was able to get Ethan Shetler involved, as well as have him come up earlier than Nick. Nick was bringing a buddy with another boat so we were golden. Adam was going to be joining us for the weekend portion of the insanity, and would bring another boat to the fleet.
Upon Ethan's arrival, we sat out on the deck enjoying a cold beer, a cigar, and deer stories. The deer stories were so grand, we had a doe walk down the street right in front of us. Couldn't have timed it better if I tried. Ethan and I discussed the importance of sticking to flyrods for as long as possible during this trip. Any fish on a flyrod is better than one any other method.
The first morning out we decided to try Swan as I had a good vibe about it. We got up early, blasted out to the lake, and were putting across the lake just as the sun rose on the horizon.
With little to no wind, flyrods were going to be money. Or so we thought.
Summer pattern fish are tough and we fished hard all morning. I even switched over to baitcaster plugs and still we could not turn a fish. We fished that lake left and right until a little after noon. Not so much as bite. Ethan turned couple of waldos, but nothing hooked up. A bit of a downer, we were destined to get one eventually.
During our at home lunch break we starting our evening game plan. There were enough reports of fish biting on Reid that we had to give it a shot. What is now a pricy pay ramp does put a bit of a sting on this location but we were willing to give it a shot. Not 10 minutes into our first spot I put a keeper waldo in the boat. I was disheartened from the morning's complete lack of fish and surrendered to live bait. Ethan stuck to the bow of the boat and flung flies until his arms gave out. I continued to catch quite a few walleyes but they were all rather small, but better than being skunked. It wasn't until the sun was on the horizon that Ethan FINALLY came tight on a fish with the flyrod. Not a monster pike, but a slimer that slammed his fly.
We fished until well after dark until the night bite even seemed to shut down and we called it a night. Thank goodness for lake maps; night boating is a bit freaky....
The next morning we did what any intelligent person would do; we headed out to to Indian again....
We couldn't buy fish if we wanted to. The wind was starting to buck so we had to be selective about our locations as well. When we finally just settled on a spot when Ethan could throw flies, I finally found fish with my trusty live bait.
Not the monsters we were exactly looking for, but they provided some form of entertainment before we would succumb to growling stomachs and boredom.
We tied a few flies back home and did some regrouping before our second shift of guests would arrive for the evening bite. You think I would learn my lesson, but after some deliberation we decided again on Indian. This lake has been doing better during the evening bite as of late (or so was reported) so that was the plan.
We were able to get everything squared away and ready to go in short order and we blasted off again. Once on Indian I told the guys to just follow me and we would hit a rocky point I figured would work wonders for the night bite. Just a short bit outside of the bay, Nick's buddy Blake trailed off, actually quite rapidly. I turned back and could see they were completed stopped. Ethan and I doubled back. Motor stopped working.......dammit......
Suspected water in the fuel completely blew a hole in the plans. We were all determined to not give in for the evening. These guys just drove five hours to fish, not sit in the house. SOOOOO.... we relocated to a better spot.
We didn't get so much as a bite the rest of the evening. We resorted to cursing Indian Springs and some vowed to never return. It was a nice outing but would have been much better with a fish or two in the boat.
The next morning we hit up Reid again with the crew and a second boat courtesy of Adam joining the fleet. I would not go as far as to say the fishing was hot and heavy, but we managed a fair number of waldos drifting. None of these were particularly large, but it was nice to finally boat a few fish. The wind provided some difficulty with the fly rods so Ethan was forced to succeed and try our drifting. As the wind picked up, and our stomachs growled ever louder, we opted for a trip back to the house for food and possibly a nap. The forecast for the evening was much calmer, and there was yet another lake that Adam wanted to try so we headed out to Dry Lake by Florence. I figured this was yet another far drive for naught, but it was closer in distance and time than Cottonwood. When we got to the docks we were greeted with clear, calm water. We couldn't have special ordered it better ourselves. We pitched flies, drifted, and repeated. The fish were just not cooperating all that well. We drifted and trolled but could not connect with anything. I finally get a call from the other boat: They lost a big one at the boat but have found quite a few. Ethan, Nick, and I tooled our way over and anchored near their location.
We pitched jigs and cranks, soaked minnows, and Ethan whipped that fly rod until dark. We found fish, nothing huge but definitely consistent. It was a nice calm evening and a nice cap to our day. When it finally got dark enough to be nervous, we blasted on back to the docks and fought the bugs in the stagnant air. By the time we got everyone out of the water and back to the house, most went straight to bed without so much as a goodnight. We still had a couple of days of fishing ahead of us....
The next day in the mix, we decided that the bite was sub-par so far and we needed again to try somewhere different. With little coercion, Adam suggested Dry 2 by Willow. Not 10 minutes into our first drift I hit a good waldo. We had the best fish of the trip and we just got here. Everyone got the memo and the game was on. As the morning wore on, the fish slowed dramatically. We picked up random pike or small waldo here and there, and if we got lucky a perch, but there was again, an inconsistent bite. I motored up to a weed patch that a friend and I had found a couple of years prior and just for the sake of boredom, anchored and started pitching jigs. The other group followed suit, and just as we were about to completely call it a day, I hit a jumbo perch. In the boat, and the scramble ensued. It took mere minutes for the other boat to start hitting fish, and Nick's buddy Blake went back to back on 14 inchers. We were on them! Over the course of the next hour or so we picked away at the fish. Ethan and I moved around the other boat trying to find the best location, one of the moves provided Ethan with a stout pike that bested anything we had caught thus far.
My time was running out before us as I needed to meet an ailing wife on the road to get her and Luca back home. Adam was going to get me to Sioux Falls and my mother the rest of the way to Worthington. We blasted out of there and thus concluded, for me, a breakneck few days of fishing.
(The other guys ended up going back out with the ClaraLee and slammed the perch again).
This was the mother of all fishing camps, even though we didn't slam the fish the entire time. The one-on-one time I got with Ethan smoking cigars and pitching flies erased a lot of shitty days in the office. Good company, good food, and finally some good fishing! Hopefully, we can do something like this again.
Stay Tuned
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