September 20th - 22nd
I've been saving my last sixer of
the Dancing Man for this once a season event, it’s that special. This time in
September, when the mercury falls and leaves change marks the spawning season
for Superior’s only naturalized salmon, the pink salmon. It’s the smallest
species but it’s the quantity which makes this one fun to catch. At any time
during the spawn you’re bound to see more than twenty to thirty salmon bunched
up in the same pocket of water, in some places like the Temperance even more.
Last year was my first time doing this and I had no idea what I was doing but
somehow managed to slay a bunch.
I had the itch to get out of St.
Paul fast and grabbed a bunch of camping gear, finished my homework and set
out. My plan was to bring no food for the three days I’d be there rather be
like a grizzly bear and survive on salmon alone. My mother made me bring some
PB & J when I went to pick up gear at her house but other than that and
coffee and beer I subsisted on salmon flesh for three days. How many hipsters
would dream of something that manly?
The
section of the Baptism was shallow, fish were spawning in a foot of water and a
few had found some deep pools. Egg patterns produced, especially pink and
woolly buggers were equally productive. The only problem fishing such shallow
waters with big concentrations of salmon was snagging them and it happened
often. After catching two nice females, I gutted them for the caviar and fried
them up next to the river and feasted like a bear. Catching thirty fish in an
afternoon beats up your gear; not only was I tying fresh tippet but the last
eyelet on my rod broke off and casting sloppy to say the least after. After a
long day of fishing, I hiked the trails around Split Rock that evening and
drank some beers and looked over Superior and the fall colors on an overlook. I
even spooked two nice bucks in the woods.
Sleeping up north this time of the
year is really cold. It didn't just frost, it froze. Cut off from the lights of
the St. Paul I was in bed shortly after sundown and reading. It started pouring
and left me pretty vulnerable in my tent. I brought two sleeping bags and slept
in my jeans and fleece but I was still cold. It’s hard to sleep well in those
conditions but I managed. In the morning, the sun’s fiery brilliance cut
through hole and woke me. It was nice to sit down next to the Lake, watch the
sunrise and see the world wake up. I hit the Baptism again but didn't get it
too myself. After a morning of fishing I loaded up and headed down 61 to Como.
Weather:
35-50 degrees
Stream:
North Shore clear
Hatch: Tiny
insects
Beer: The Dancing Man
I've been saving my last sixer of
the Dancing Man for this once a season event, it’s that special. This time in
September, when the mercury falls and leaves change marks the spawning season
for Superior’s only naturalized salmon, the pink salmon. It’s the smallest
species but it’s the quantity which makes this one fun to catch. At any time
during the spawn you’re bound to see more than twenty to thirty salmon bunched
up in the same pocket of water, in some places like the Temperance even more.
Last year was my first time doing this and I had no idea what I was doing but
somehow managed to slay a bunch. 
I had the itch to get out of St.
Paul fast and grabbed a bunch of camping gear, finished my homework and set
out. My plan was to bring no food for the three days I’d be there rather be
like a grizzly bear and survive on salmon alone. My mother made me bring some
PB & J when I went to pick up gear at her house but other than that and
coffee and beer I subsisted on salmon flesh for three days. How many hipsters
would dream of something that manly? |
| Brookie!! |
The dry, dusty conditions I left in
St. Paul were a stark contrast to healthy conditions on the North Shore. Rivers
looked bountiful and the grass was green. After setting up camp at Split Rock I
set forth to the Cross, Temperance and Poplar Rivers. The Cross is so small but
full of salmon which was fun for a while. The Temperance is always a zoo; everyone
is shocked to see people catching salmon and lazy anglers who don’t want to
hike back to a river just stop there. By evening I had the Poplar River to
myself and it was beautiful, the big pool is flanked by two gorgeous bridges
over the river and the pinks were rising to tiny insects. It was interesting, I didn't have a fly small enough to match what they were eating but the brook
trout couldn't get enough. I like brookies better anyway, they are the only
indigenous migratory fish on these rivers and I wish it was still the case. Funny story, this guy who saw me fishing on the Poplar
thought I was crazy to keep the caviar but that's Lakeville for you. I just
blew his mind when I told him about it.
The next day I woke early to check
out some new territory. I started at Gooseberry River but it was so low and
winding I couldn't find any salmon. Next, I went to Split Rock River but no fish were near the mouth; they had all made it up river almost two miles so
I abandoned my pursuit there. Cruising 61, I stopped before the bridge over
Tettegouche State Parks Baptism River and peered down one hundred feet into the
river. Salmon were splashing and spawning and no one was fishing.
The
section of the Baptism was shallow, fish were spawning in a foot of water and a
few had found some deep pools. Egg patterns produced, especially pink and
woolly buggers were equally productive. The only problem fishing such shallow
waters with big concentrations of salmon was snagging them and it happened
often. After catching two nice females, I gutted them for the caviar and fried
them up next to the river and feasted like a bear. Catching thirty fish in an
afternoon beats up your gear; not only was I tying fresh tippet but the last
eyelet on my rod broke off and casting sloppy to say the least after. After a
long day of fishing, I hiked the trails around Split Rock that evening and
drank some beers and looked over Superior and the fall colors on an overlook. I
even spooked two nice bucks in the woods. 
Sleeping up north this time of the
year is really cold. It didn't just frost, it froze. Cut off from the lights of
the St. Paul I was in bed shortly after sundown and reading. It started pouring
and left me pretty vulnerable in my tent. I brought two sleeping bags and slept
in my jeans and fleece but I was still cold. It’s hard to sleep well in those
conditions but I managed. In the morning, the sun’s fiery brilliance cut
through hole and woke me. It was nice to sit down next to the Lake, watch the
sunrise and see the world wake up. I hit the Baptism again but didn't get it
too myself. After a morning of fishing I loaded up and headed down 61 to Como. 
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