Weather: 28-55 degrees
Stream: Clear and low
Hatch: Tiny mayflies
Beer: Summit Horizon Red
If you can
fish the Brule, you can fish any river in the country was the advice an elderly
resident of northern Wisconsin gave me as I set forth on my pursuit for fall
steel. My only other time to the
beautiful, 52 mile Bois Brule River was the previous fall but I had no clue how
different things were here in the Wisconsin Lake Superior region as opposed to
the Driftless area and Minnesota’s North Shore. But it’s that excitement of
exploring new places, crossing running water to reach promising holes and
forming new memories which summoned me on a three hour road trip at 3:30am to
hit the river at first light.
A season ending finale on the
legendary Brule would do justice in ending my wonderful season. It rises out of
a lake in the middle of the Wisconsin Northwood’s dotted with hardscrabble
farms eking their existence out of the sandy, loamy soil. It’s those sandy
soils that make the Brule the river it is, just thirty miles out of Duluth but
I looks like a different region from Minnesota. Deep in those river runs and
pools contain the Brule’s reputation for thrills and heartache that are too alluring
a siren for fellow anglers.
I’m a fish out of water when it
comes to steelhead; it’s a different angling pursuit than the brown trout I am
familiar with but I didn’t let it stop me. I fished nymph patterns long and
hard at the deepest pools I could find. The water is very low due to drought so
steelhead congregate in the deepest cover. It’s tough steelheading, being on
the river at first light my fingers froze switching flies. Whereas on the
Kinnie I would only fish one stretch at a time, I spent the day scuttling
between different entry points on the river. Also, successful catch rates
differ widely, you are in business if you hook two or three in a day of fishing the
Brule. 
When fishing the Brule, there is no
real artistic way to describe the process, it’s rather dull and boring to those
not fishing. Each stretch I fished I hiked deep into the woods to find spots
with the least fishing pressure. Summoning as much grace as possible in a pair
of clunky waders and several layers of warm clothes, I would walk as slowly to
the head of a deep pool, stand stationary for two minutes and dead drift and dead
drift and dead drift. Prince nymphs, x-legs, caddis pupae, stoneflies, scuds and
eggs produced nothing. And I was pushing the limits on how deep I was fishing,
my strike indicator was set deep and nymphs were bouncing on the bottom, I could
feel it. But that’s what I did and I fished spots way longer and harder than I
usually would but with no success.
If
I’ve learned anything, steelheading is tough business and one day on the river
is not enough to reduce my learning curve. But in the scheme of things, no
angler is unsuccessful after a long day on the river. Hell, I was walking
through the beautiful fall woods as leaves fell around me foliage, fishing
under the smoky gold tamaracks, and enjoying the last part of autumn. That is
better than school and work on any day of the year. I was a little forlorn drinking
my beer in the parking lot after all that fishing. It was a good day; I put in
a three hour road trip and twelve hours of fishing to close my year but it’s
all over till next March. But I am the biggest optimist around. I did so well
this year, learned so much and expanded my angling skills to new levels. I still
have much more to learn and the rivers will always be there full of promise.
Fishing is my passion; it’s what I look forward to and has given me so much.
With that said, this blog was simply a reflection of a year of fishing. I had
no idea what the year held but I enjoyed writing about my adventures and I’ll
be back on the Kinnickinnic next March. 
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