There's something about the traditions of a good
old-fashioned trout opener. Years ago, when my buddies and I started fly
fishing for trout, our first stop was the pancake
breakfast at the Chatfield Fire Department in the lovely Chosen Valley in
Southeast Minnesota. It had everything you could ask for — small town flavor,
giveaways, a fishing contest, and a warmish breakfast if you hit the line just
right. All the pancakes you'd care to eat. There was even an appearance by the
town's brass band.
We'd scarf down breakfast, peek in the trout tank, and head
out to get a spot on the stream bank. Then we'd wait for the
official opening of trout season at 10 a.m.
During that wait, in either my first or second year of trout
fishing, I managed to create a giant rat's nest in my tippet at exactly 9:59
a.m., postponing my first cast to somewhere closer to 10:30 a.m. Otherwise, I actually
enjoyed the ceremony of watching the minutes until we were legal.
In the years since, Minnesota dispensed with the 10 a.m.
start time and introduced an early catch-and-release period. So we dispensed
with the pancake breakfast and the catch-and-keep opener in a bid to beat the crowds. We were releasing all
of the trout we caught anyway.
This year, my buddy Eric and I bet on the weather and hoped
for reasonable stream conditions, and headed out for a few days the first week
of April. For the past few seasons, we've enjoyed the comforts (and heat) of Eric's
pop-up camper. But the tentative "we might be back by then" from our
friends at Maple Springs
Campground wasn't reassuring, so we tried the camper cabins at Forestville
State Park. It was close enough to roughing it for us.
We started the trip with breakfast at Ma's Café in
Plainview, Minnesota, a town that wishes you "Have a nice day" as you
leave the city limits. Years ago, one of my fishing buddies drove past that
sign with an old acquaintance who for some reason said aloud, "That's a
powerful message." Right after his statement, a bee flew in the window and
stung the guy in the leg, proving there perhaps is a price to pay for reciting and
affirming an old cliché. And wearing shorts.
Our first fishing stop was at the Middle Branch of the
Whitewater River. This can be a great time of year to fish this stream, with
stained water potentially making a stealthy approach easier. On this day, the
water was up a bit, a cold gray color, and just seemed off. We tried nymphs and
streamers to no avail. We struggled to even spook a trout. We were hoping to
have the river to ourselves, but not to that degree.
So we headed south to check in at the park and check out our
cabin. It turned out to be sort of perfect. Small, with a couple bunk beds and
table, heat, and electricity.
After getting settled, we tried a stretch of the South
Branch of the Root River we call the "Anyways Stretch" — long story —
and continued our run of bad luck. The river was up a fair bit with that same
cold gray tint. I managed to land one trout among a few sporadic risers in a
slower stretch, and that was it for day one. It turned out to be the only day
I'd catch the most fish. Not that anyone was counting.
The next day, we found better fishing and clearer waters at
Trout Run Creek. We'd mostly avoided this section of the stream since "stream
improvements" ruined our favorite stretch of river, but it seemed like our
best bet given the conditions. It proved to be a good choice. We again had the
stream to ourselves, but this time, we caught some fish on pheasant tail and
gold-ribbed hare's ear nymphs, and managed to coax a few to the surface on
caddis patterns. There were a few stretches with rising trout, but not much of
a hatch. The trout did seem interested in a poorly skated caddis pattern,
however. Eric landed a dozen or so, and I managed 6 or 8 trout.
The next morning, continuing the theme of revisiting old haunts — which also
happened to give us a better chance at clear water — we headed east to Pine
Creek. It had been at least a decade since I'd fished here, but it all came
back as we followed the stream through the grassy valley. This creek, too, had
been improved. Which meant we caught our fish in unimproved riffles and runs,
on nymphs and dries, "as God intended." The same nymphs and caddis
worked for us here. Eric out fished me again, catching maybe 20 trout to my
dozen or so.
It's an awfully pretty stretch of river that was nice enough
to us anglers, as we shook off the early season rust. We were just glad find
some clear water, greet some trout, and not have to fall back on "it's
just nice to be out." It was nice to be out. But it was nicer have some luck.
In three days, we saw one fellow angler. And we had the park
pretty much to ourselves, with just one other cabin with its light on, and one
or two tents set up in the campground.
I'm thinking we'll keep making our own
pancakes and getting out ahead of the official trout opener. And perhaps the "Owl"
cabin at Forestville will become our new spring trout fishing tradition.
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