“Of course, the solution to all of this is pretty clear. I am sure all these magazines are dying for content, you clearly think you can do it better, step up and write a piece.”- comment from Lance

Here goes. This is my attempt at a destination type article that doesn’t sound like the rest of the destination articles out there.

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Despite all that has been written about it, even it’s most frequent visitors have yet to pry away many of the secrets northern Michigan’s Au Sable River protects as it makes it’s 129 mile journey from north of Grayling, Michigan, into Lake Huron.

I lived within minutes of it’s gentle flow for nine years and never set foot in it until a spur of the moment decision one mid November morning to retire my Ugly Stik and Hula Poppers in favor of fly gear. It was a decision based more on trying to break through the intimidation of fly fishing, than about wanting to take advantage of all the area had to offer coldwater anglers. It’s a decision that ultimately lead to what will likely be a life long passion for the craft- and love for the Au Sable.

“I guess I’m moving to New York”, I said to Rusty Gates, after hovering over the book shelves for about a half an hour in the back of Gates Au Sable Lodge. A shop that sits on the south bank of the Au Sable only a few feet downstream from Stephan’s Bridge. Since the place I had worked for had shut down a 5 months before, a handsome severance check had allowed me to pass through it’s doors almost daily.

“Why?” Rusty asked.

“I don’t know!” I laughed.
“I got a job offer in Albany. Looks like I start in 3 weeks.”

Before asking me about the job, I could see thoughts running through Rusty’s head, wondering how anyone could live without the Au Sable as part of their daily routine.

“It’ll suck to leave, but I guess there’s descent fishing out there.” I said. I think I was still just as much trying to convince myself the move was a good idea, as I was trying to convince him I really thought it was.

“Besides, there’s an AuSable out there, too.” I said, pronouncing it the same as we pronounced our Au Sable. “Except they spell it with no space between the u and s.”

Almost before the s came out of my mouth, Rusty said,

“Their AuSable is pronounced O sabel, not Aww Soble. Their is only one Aww Soble.”

Nearly two years later, the words there is only one Aww Soble still ring through my ears daily as I sit at work, daydreaming about past trips between it’s banks- anticipating my return.

Main Stream

My first experience fishing the Au Sable(actually my second, but you don’t want to hear about a mid February skunking) was just below Loud Dam. It was Memorial weekend and I was running a little early to pick up a friend for what would be my first time fishing for trout with a fly rod. There was a small access where I fished for panfish and bass to kill 20 minutes. A couple small rock bass later, I picked up Steve and we headed upstream to Mio. This area of the river from the Mio Dam downstream is dubbed, “The Trophy Waters”. Unlike the upper river, it’s big, fast water best fished from a boat. There are a few wadable areas, and we intended to fish one such stretch about a 5 minute drive downstream where we would meet up with Bob.

First, we stopped at Linsenman’s Au Sable Angler Fly Shop in Mio to get a few odds and ends. I hadn’t intended on it, but with a great selection of streamers in the fly bins, I picked up a couple Zoo Cougars and we headed out.

As we pulled into the parking lot, there was a guy with camera in hand, standing over a fish he just landed.

“Is that Bob?” I asked

“I don’t know, it kinda looks like him” Steve said

We hopped out of the car just as Bob was releasing a small hatchery rainbow back into the stream.

There were bugs everywhere,to this day, probably the biggest sulpher hatch I’ve ever witnessed. After bumming a dry from Steve, Bob pointed out a small pod of rising fish to me on the opposite side of the river. It wasn’t really that I needed the help finding a riser, they were everywhere. I think Bob was just excited to help someone. It only took me about 8 false casts to snap the fly off. I waded up to Steve to embarrassingly bum another fly( I still couldn’t tie dries) before Bob put me back on some fish and after missing a couple strikes I landed my first trout.

A couple hours, and about 25 fish later, I waded upstream into a small side channel. Unlike the main river, there were almost no bugs coming off, so I tied on one of the Zoo Cougars from Linsenman’s shop. Unable to cast it more than 20′, I started just stripping out a bunch of line, letting the fly drift downstream, then stripping it back in. The second time through, I had my first streamer caught trout, a 16″ rainbow that hit the fly so hard, over the following months, my trout box morphed from a small assortment of bugs to a smorgasborg of baitfish imitations. I ran down to tell Steve about the fish, and after getting the story out, he told me about a Brown pushing 30″ that swarmed through the flat he was on trying to pick up one of the 8″ stocked bows. That was when I learned that the streamer fishing was supposed to be excellent in the Trophy Water stretch, unfortunately though, I never got to float it.

As the day came to an end, Steve and I sat on the bank watching the water for the elusive Brown Drake. I didn’t know what a Brown Drake was yet, but from hearing stories of the blanket hatches they provide during the first week of June, it sounded like a hatch I wanted to experience. They never came, so I gave Steve a lift back to his cabin downstream.

On the way, he told stories from fishing the river over the past 20 years. Some of which included the Steelhead runs below Foote Dam. As I listened, it hit me that it must be tough for guys like Steve to think back on the good ol’ days considering the current Steelhead runs on not just the Au Sable, but on most Lake Huron tribs, have almost become nearly non existent over the past few seasons due to a bait fish crash.

I didn’t fish the Au Sable many more times over the rest of that first season, instead focusing on other streams in the area. But for some reason, as the following winter progressed, the Au Sable and some of it’s stretches open to year round fishing pulled me out of hibernation.

It was sometime in February of ‘06 when I saw there was supposed to be a day or two with temps above freezing. I had heard from other guys in the area that dredging heavily weighted streamers would be about my best bet for a mid winter trout in the C&R stretch dubbed, “The Holy Waters”. Honestly though, I had little hope to actually catch a fish there. It was a big surprise to see my line stop half way through it’s drift. I landed the Brown, got one of those pictures where the fly line is running right through the middle of the frame, and let it go. I wasn’t really sure how long it was, but I guessed about 14″-16″.

Towards the end of the month, I meet a couple guys from the Headwaters Chapter of TU at one of their tying nights. I mentioned that I usually don’t catch too many fish and was quickly invited by the chapter president to come wade a stretch with him throwing streamers. We waded from the “Guide’s Rest” access point down to Stephan Bridge.

“Nice day to take a walk, huh?” John asked about halfway through the trip. Moments later, he was stripping his olive/black streamer along a log when a 25″ class rainbow blew up on it. I was about 30 yards upstream when it happened. Water exploded, John’s arms shot up in the air, and just as quickly as it all started, it was over.

“Good one?” I asked, but the expression on John’s face told me everything I needed to know. We finished up, and Rusty invited us in for a bowl of venison chili.

Now chili is always good, but NOTHING hits the spot better on a cold northern Michigan day like a good bowl of venison chili! We hung out for about an hour upstairs, BS’ing, watching “Big” on TV. Before we headed out, John invited me to fish with him again the next day from Stephans Bridge down to the next access.

“I caught a pretty little Brown Trout on that stretch a month or so ago!” I said

“Oh yeah, where at?” John asked

“Ya know the run just below that island? Just below that. I’m not sure how big it was, but I figured it was about 14″-16″ ”

John interrupted

“It was 16″, I caught that same fish in January” he laughed

North Branch

A couple weeks later I got my first pair of breathable waders, but needed wading boots. A friend had a pair he couldn’t use anymore due to diabetes related foot problems so I stopped by his house and picked them up. Afterwards we hit a spot on the North Branch of the Au Sable. It wasn’t a long hike in, maybe by Michigan standards, but it was enough that his feet were bothering him before they even got wet. This guy was one of us, he lived to chase fish with the fly rod.

It was a beautiful Spring day, the snow pack was pretty much melted. There were small BWO’s coming off with the occasional Early Black Stonefly dive bombing the surface as we worked our way upstream. After about 50 yards he had to stop and rest his feet. We sat on the bank of the river and checked out each other’s fly boxes, this guy could tie. 10 minutes later we started working further upstream. We got about 25 more yards before the day’s first wave of Hendricksons started popping. It was beautiful. I was amazed that the river, which seemed to be void of life moments before, was suddenly alive with rising fish. I’ll never forget the colors on my first Brookie.

After releasing the fish, I looked downstream towards Kevin. He was sitting on a log doing his best to fish the hatch. It was a bittersweet moment. Here I was on one of the premier ecosystems in the US, in the middle of one of one of the most enjoyable hatches of the year, catching beautiful fish left and right. Yet it was a little sad to see a man who had so much passion for what we were doing, and who wanted to do it so badly, unable to do it.

It’s a bad pic, this fish was about 12″-13″(There’s a #6 Muddler in it’s mouth)

I meet him halfway after he tried to make his way up to me.

“I gotta head home, my feet are bothering me pretty bad.”
I offered to help him back to his truck
“Naww, I’ll be okay”

That was the last time I ever saw him. I tried to get in touch with him a couple times since, but he just kind of disappeared. I hope he’s doing alright.

I hope the day never comes when I can’t do what I love.

I couldn’t help but feel excited on the drive home. The North Branch’s hatches are usually about two weeks ahead of the main stream’s. That meant there should be main stream Hendricksons on the general trout opener the last Saturday of the month.

South Branch

Not much has been written about the Au Sable that doesn’t mention the mid June Hexagenia limbata hatch. But I must be honest.

It’s highly over rated.

Yes the fish go nuts for them, but that’s only if you’re lucky enough to catch the first few nights the spinners fall on a given stretch. After that, it’s almost like the fish feel how you do after eating leftover meatloaf for a week- kinda sick of eating meatloaf.

My first experience trying to find the elusive spinner fall left me with a dead car battery several miles from the main road- and about another half mile off the Mason Tract- the main two track that parallels the South Branch of the Au Sable. There was no cell signal, so I started a midnight walk out to the main road where I hoped I could get a couple bars on the screen.

The wife wasn’t happy to get that call.

The next year I went back to the same spot for my first try at catching one of those magical first spinner falls of the hatch. When I walked back to my car, a new bug had passed the sulpher as my favorite hatch, but it wasn’t the Hex.

I got down to the river around 6:30pm and sat on the bank to wait for twilight when, hopefully, the big bugs would start their mating swarm. I sat on the bank watching rise after rise to Isonychia bicolor duns. Intent on waiting for the Hex, my rod sat up against a small cedar for two hours before I just couldn’t take it anymore. I untied my hex imitation and tied on a downwing Adams before wading in below one of the more active fish. My first South Branch brown was a beautiful fish, one I’ll never forget.

It was pretty much dark out as I watched it swim away, yet the birds were chirping more loudly than ever. I looked up and something was clumsily flying over the water that looked like a cross between a spider and a helicopter. I tied my spent hex back on and stood motionless at the tail of a small bend pool tucked between two shallow riffles. The sky went black, and the fish started turning back on.

It’s crazy how much bigger fish sound, when rising in the dark. I heard sounds that night that even to this day have me wondering if it’s really safe to wade that river without a shotgun.

Debris

You have to understand- all hatches on the Au Sable system are near epic. It’s just wrong for one river to have so many truly great hatches. Caddis hatches so thick you can’t breath. So many White Flies in the air that if it wasn’t for the 70º air temps, you’d swear it was snowing. Tornado-like clouds of Tricos on the North Branch- and everything in between. Like all fish with easy access to an all you can eat buffet of bugs, they can be pretty particular about what they put in their mouth.

Speaking of putting stuff in your mouth, there’s a small pub in downtown Grayling called, “Spikes Keg O’ Nails”. If someone makes a better burger, I haven’t tasted it yet.

Anyways, despite great hatches and great habitat from a bygone logging era, fishing can be tough. These fish have all day to check out your offering, no, not all day- they’ve got all week. Add moderate to heavy fishing pressure on some of the more accessible stretches, and you have a recipe for what can become very technical fishing.

It’s not the hatches, or the burgers, or the fish, or the cedar swamps that I miss most though. It’s the area in general.

For the most part, it’s still wild.

Here in the northeast, you’ve gotta put some miles on your boots to get away from it all, but not in northern Michigan. Even on a river as widely known as the Au Sable, it’s nothing to go all day without seeing signs of civilization. On the days I spent on the South and North Branches my final season before moving, I saw more deer than houses and more mink than people. Even during the opener and the big drake hatches, it was easy to find seclusion.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t shed a few tears as I drove the UHaul over the river on the way to New York. Every bone in my body screamed to turn around. After 5 months of near daily visits with her that final year in Michigan, we were just starting to get to know each other. Sometimes, I can tell the rivers out here are a little jealous as I fish them. They know I’m usually thinking about a place 800 miles away.

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I’m sure a more talented writer could do something more creative, but this is just the first way to write it differently that popped into my head. I understand people want to have a sense that they know what they’re doing, and what to expect when they visit a place for the first time. I get that. But what have you accomplished by going to a new area and being successful when you had all the answers handed to you? It’s just like most things in life- the more you put into something, the more you get out of it. Still, I think I did an alright job of giving away some basic info on the area, it’s hatches, etc. I could have written more( I should have said something about fishing the river in a traditional Au Sable River Boat), but if you read between the lines, you’ll see that there’s more there than meets the eye- even some stuff a lot of locals don’t know…