What a Saturday!

I walked into last weekend thinking it would be pretty routine. I walked out of it astounded. We packed in the good times. 

Saturday morning, I met a new friend to explore our local "urban" carp waters. I walked an old family fiberglass rod down to the Zumbro, and we spent a few hours casting at carp. I grew up in Rochester, Mn, and we always referred to this river as the "Scum-bro." I still wouldn't drink the water, but, man, it was a gorgeous morning and we saw some BIG carp. No takes, but I did manage a nice smallmouth. There are, reportedly, some great stretches of the Zumbro where you can land anything from walley, northern, smallmouth and panfish.  

After a few hours fishing, I walked home and met Sara and David for a trip to our local Transportation Fair. It was basically every type of utility and municipality vehicle you can think of, a 2-year old's dream come true. 

David was so excited that nap time went out the window. I thought I could get him to nap in the car, so I packed a bag (Thirty-one - Thanks Sara) full of diapers, clementines, peanut butter crackers and other snacks, a tenkara rod, some water and flies, and we headed down to Preston, Mn to visit the National Trout Center. 

Turns out it was "Trout Days" in Preston, their annual town festival. This meant antique cars, pigs and ponys to pet, tours at the historical society, and some yummy food. I had David in the back carrier most of the time until we walked down to a park to fish a little on the Root River and play at the park. No fish, lots of fun at the park. 

When we finally got home around 5pm, I had a phone call from my brother. He was taking his 4-year old camping for the first time at Whitewater State Park. David had a long day in the sun, so he stayed home with mommy, but I drove over to the park for burgers, evening fishing and roasted marshmallows. My nephew has a blast. We found teh perfect spot to let him practice fly fishing for the first time. 

The tenkara rod was a nice set up for him, and as the sun went down, the fish were getting bold, taking flies off the surface readily. 

Whitewater is about 30 minutes from Rochester down County 9.

Collin wet-wading to rising fish. They were taking size 20 beatis. 

Collin and Colton at the training hole.

We got Colton to fight in a couple nice fish are this hole. The swallows were abundant above our heads. You can see their holes in the sandstone along the river. 

Tenkara cast

I got home at about 1030pm and realized how big a day we all had. I had fished three rivers (Zumbro, Root and the Whitewater), spent time with my family exploring a new town (Preston) and the transportation fair.  And enjoyed time with my brother and nephew.  The joys of being back at home in the Driftless Area :)

Good Days

I love good days. They come in all shapes and sizes. Some are lazy. Some are long. Some flyby and they're gone before you know it.

Saturday was a good day.

We enjoyed a night in on Friday, and Saturday morning we walked to the park after a fresh pot of coffee and a quick breakfast. I had to run into work for about an hour but made it back in time to play befor a midday nap. While Sara and David slept, I went for a long run. Longer then I've run in a couple years. 9.75mi. It just felt so good to be out in the hot August sun, so I kept going.  I came home to a well rested house, and we headed straight to the neighborhood swimming pool for a hour of water play under the fountains and bubblers. We walked home in our suits and the little guy in a diaper and towel drinking a bottle of milk. 

The next stop was the Salem Glen Winery just 15 minutes south of Rochester. All the grapes are grown on site. The property rests on a hill where the observatory waits for nightfall. The wines were wonderful. Typically I think most northern wines end up being very sweet, but these were much more of the traditional variety with something for everyone. My favorite was the Marquette. It was dry, cherry flavored and peppery. Sara liked the LaCrescent and the Cygna. 

David paired his milk and matchbox cars with cheese crackers. He is wise beyond his years. 

He quickly moved onto the red wagon and explored the grounds. 

Not in the mood to cook dinner and hankering for smooth custard, we stopped by Culvers on the way home. A satisfying dinner was topped off with a game of Choo-choo while standing in a wok. Sara and I still aren't quite sure why David enjoyed this so much, but good things don't always need explaning. We just rolled with it. 

Tempting fate with a day that was already perfect.  I rushed out to the stream after putting David to bed. I haven't used my new rod yet and I wanted to fish a section of the stream I hadn't tried. I had a limited window before dark so expectations were low. 

However, this day could do no wrong. The Walton Powell Hexagraph casts beautifully. I was tossing a mini hopper into spots I shouldn't be able to. It felt like all I had to do was look where I wanted to cast, and I could make it happen. Still, I hadn't seen a fish in the 30 minutes I was there and darkness was upon me. 

There was a downed cottonwood that was creating some great structure, but it was the type of structure you normally pass up because it is understood you will lose every fly you cast anywhere near the tempting pools. (It brings to mind ships wrecked on the rocks after hearing the sirens call.) Today, however, a last chance at a fish seemed well worth the risk. 

I ended up walking out on to the cotton wood, balancing on the beam, mid stream. I landed the fly in a stretch the size of a 10-gallon bucket and the fish hit immediately. He hid under two trees before I finally got him to the surface. My balance got me so far as to net the fish before I fell backward chest high in the cool water. On a hot August night, with a big brown trout in your net, it is hard to be upset at something like that. I laughed because Sara had just gotten me a new waterproof case for my phone.  I smiled because I couldn't think of a better way to initiate my Hexagraph. 

Not all days are good, but when one comes along it pays to relish in it. It even felt good to walk back to the car soaking wet. So good I tried to give my very best Breakfast Club fist pump to the sky, fly rod in hand. 

Another one in the books, I guess. Tomorrow, we start all over again. 

Here is to another good day ahead of us.