We are very excited to share an article that Mike put together for a great online fishing magazine called Kype. Its a great summary of Badger's approach to Tenkara fishing in Driftless streams. Check it out!
Have you ever had a Badger in your mailbox? Now you can!
Not only is March the opening of Wisconsin trout season, but it also marks Badger Tenkara's "1st Birthday", and we've got a whole month of cool stuff planned! One part of the celebration: In March we will be kicking off our newsletter, The Badger Bulletin!
Here's the top 10 reasons why you should get signed up for the Badger Bulletin:
1) It gets you registered for our contests and give-aways!
2) It is where we will offer you the chance to "test drive" our rods!
3) We'll post news about upcoming events!
4) You'll know when we have our secret sales!
5) We'll keep you up to date on fishing conditions in and around the Driftless!
6) We'll post up YOUR Pictures and fishing stories!
7) You'll be invited to participate in polls as we develop new products!
8) We'll highlight tactics, techniques, and field-craft tips!
9) Seriously, those are EIGHT really good reasons!
10) Do you really need more reasons than that?!
Sign up and join the fun!!!
Even when the fishing is slow, it is still great to be on the water, and there is always something to learn. Temps reached the high 30s over the weekend, and then cooled off a bit when I fished on MLK Monday.
I'd hoped that warmer air temperatures would make the fish more active, but there just wasn't much going on at 2 Eagle Creek this trip. Maybe the unstable air temps and intermittent snow kept the water cool enough put the trout off the feed. Maybe the creek was fished out, as Iowa does very little stocking over the winter months, and I know for a FACT that certain Green Bay Packer fans hold to a superstition about eating trout on game day to ensure a win and so some folks have been keeping stockers for the dinner table. Note, It did not help. GO BEARS! Anyway -
Most of the water was extremely quiet. I saw a single surface rise the entire day, and only spotted fish being active near the surface in one place. A few things stood out that were worth discussing though.
In the last post about fishing this creek, I mentioned the section in the picture above. It is either an extremely slow run, or an extremely long pool. Either way, it narrows and shallows at the tailout It has produced for me on several trips, and I know that my buddy (the poor misguided Packer fan) typically gets great results from this section too. You can see in the picture and video that there aren't any good places to fish this section from the bank. It is wide, broad and high banked. There is a decent drop below the tailout, so an angler positioned there is much lower on the approach, making it the kind of terrain advantage perfectly suited for getting into casting position unseen. This is something to keep in mind when fishing Driftless creeks that are often largely devoid of good cover.
The one place I saw fish active near the surface was the mouth of a feeder creek that spills into the main channel. It has pretty warm water, as you can see from the amount of vegetation it still supports. The pool it dumps into is very deep, making a wading approach by water impossible. I fished my way up to the mouth from the bank, and saw no action - until I stood right on the edge, less than 10 ft from the target, and saw 2 good sized rainbows swim up and take station. I made a feeble attempt to drop a stealthy cast in front of them, but the moment I drew back, they bolted for the deep. I stood by for a while and they came back, so I spent a while watching them swim before I called it a day. Its always fun to watch trout swim!
As I said, it was a slow day of fishing, but a great day to be out. Hawk cries and woodpecker percussion made for an excellent contrast against the calm quiet of the pasture creek. It was nice to be outside and stretching my legs, and when all is said and done, I did catch my first two trout of 2015!
The cold arrived quickly in the Driftless this year. After a solid month of sub-freezing temps, a freak warm front brought us a 4 day weekend that melted everything and made it nice to be outside. Naturally, just about every angler in the Driftless made a break for Iowa water that weekend. I was lucky enough to get out on that Friday, and check out a creek that I'd not yet explored. Most of the snow and ice had already melted off, so water temps were stable. With overcast skies and light wind, it made for just about the best conditions you can hope for on a late Autumn day.
I started the day with the BAD AXE rigged as it was from my last day out - 12 feet of regular Badger Line, about 5 ft of 5x tippet, and a #12 Pink Squirrel. I typically prefer to fish this rod with a BADGER-LITE line, but have been experimenting to see how the rod handles it. All and all, it performs well enough with a heavier line. I've seen a slight loss of accuracy and an increase in "splash" on delivery. If you want to throw streamers on the BAD AXE, the regular Badger line offers some extra weight to help those larger flies turn over. When fishing dry, wet, or small to medium nymph patterns, the BADGER-LITE suits the rod perfectly for delicate and accurate presentations.
I was able to bring 6 nice Rainbows to hand on this trip, and had one LDR (long distance release) where the fish got off the hook after a short but energetic fight. Typically, I have found the Rainbow trout in Iowa to be a bit lazy when hooked, but the fish in this creek surprised me. They all put up solid fights that reminded me more of wild Browns than stocked Rainbows!
The first two fish were caught on the Pink Squirrel. They were holding on the soft inside edge of a faster corner pool. Both fish made good runs across the small space they had!
After moving upstream to a wide, and slow pool, I spotted some risers. Having already knocked the skunk off with a few fast catches, it was time to get experimental. Have I mentioned the success I had this season fishing the "Pass Lake" ? It's far past the time of year for a fly or terrestrial the size of a #12 pass lake to be found on our creeks, but I figure the fish have their attention on the surface, and a good sized meal floating past will not be ignored. Hone the zone, as I like to say. Get something that resembles trout food into the water that the fish is paying attention to - and that will catch fish. At least, that is the theory. How will it work in late Autumn, after a six week freeze?
Turns out, pretty good. Moving up to the top of pool where I saw the risers, I dropped the cast into the slow current entering the pool, and drew attention Immediately. There was a swirling disturbance on the surface around the fly - but no "felt" take. What I SHOULD have done was set the hook when I saw the swirl. Instead, I waited a beat. I sighted the fish on what must have been his post-take dive, and set the hook then. After a few serious runs, it managed to slip the hook, and I lost the fish. DOH!
The next three catches came from what was either an extremely long pool, or an extremely slow run. I saw an active feeder near the tail-out, and put the stalk on it. By focusing my casts on the part of the pool that was just slightly faster flowing, I caught that feeder and another about 5 feet upstream. The final fish of the pool was in faster current near the pool's head, in conditions that were more "usual".
The last fish of the day was caught with a tactic that has been working well for me all year. By casting downstream into current and using the disturbed surface as visual cover for my position, I can get pretty close to the head of the pool. Drifting and swinging across the current like one would use a streamer has been really productive with both wet flies (Pass Lake, of course) and nymphs (Killer Bugs).
Another note about the last fish in the video. I do not feel good at all about how I landed the fish. I really should have taken the time to fully assess the water and determine a safe route to bring the fish in.
It was really a fun day out, with lots of lessons to be learned and some really sporty fish. Driftless Iowa continues to be a productive and interesting place to fish in Wisconsin's off season!
Trout season has closed in Wisconsin, and the warm water fish have gone deep. Luckily for us, Iowa's well stocked streams are just a few hours away. I got out there last week to explore a new section on one of my favorite creeks. It did not disappoint! After the first run coughed up a solid half dozen fish (we'll take a look at that in another trip report), the section launched into a really nice series of bend pools with great structure.
I hit the water rigged up with a 12 foot BADGER Line, 6-7 feet of 5x, and a #12 bead head Killer Bug. I typically prefer the BADGER-LITE line on the BAD AXE, but wanted to give the heavier line a try to see how it performed on this rod while nymphing the bottom. It ended up casting as well it needed to, and since I typically leave a few feet of line on the water when nymphing, its added weight didn't create any disadvantage. The advantage of using the heavier line played out in the cast, which allowed me to fish a longer tippet. The extra weight translates into added momentum, making it easier to turn over a fly out on the far end of the system.
Since I spent most of the summer fishing foam terrestrials and Pass Lake wet flies, switching over to sub surface takes that I can't see has taken some getting used to. After a while, I managed to shake off the rust, and got back into the habit of using a few techniques that work well for my sub-surface game:
1) I lightened up my grip to the bare minimum it takes for my fingers to hold the rod. This gives me increased sensitivity to bumps and pressure shifts on the system.
2) When drawing the system back to make the next cast, I begin by making a few tiny, upward twitches. If the resistance seems greater than I'd expect from water and current, I immediately apply a firm hook set. The twitches sometimes trigger a reaction from the fish, because they only then realize they have been hooked!
3) While dead drifting is just about always my opening tactic, I typically shift into various patterns of action on the next drift. Swinging and stripping a nymph through current, or on the surface, can be very productive!
All and all, it was great day of fishing, on a section of water with lots of variance and character!
The BAD AXE is not just an adjustable version of our CLASSIC rod, it is an entirely different animal. While both rods are 6/4, medium flex actions - they are at opposite sides of the spectrum within that classification.
The CLASSIC has a stiffer, general purpose action that makes it great for a wide variety of fishing. It's got the backbone you need to dig in your heels and stop that big fish's run if you need to, and it really shines throwing heavier lines, streamers, poppers, and clunky foam terrestrials. If you want a general purpose rod that can also cast larger payloads and force fish to the net, then the CLASSIC is a great choice.
The BAD AXE has a smooth, softer action that makes remarkably consistent casts. The rod is no pushover, but the action is more dynamic and makes everything on the hook feel a bit more sporty. It can still handle the bigger fish, but it does so with finesse rather than muscle. You will find it perfect for casting medium and light weight lines, especially the BADGER-LITE floating line that we will be introducing to you soon. If you are looking for versatility, refined casting, and more lively play, choose the BAD AXE.
We have been fishing the BAD AXE for several weeks now, so we put together some trip reports that highlight our experiences with the rod so far. Mike got out and hit a nice Wisconsin bass creek, and I've gotten the rod onto trout in Iowa and North Carolina. Read on to see how it fishes!
BAD AXE Bass
Well, we are pretty excited here at Badger Tenkara to have launched a new rod, the Bad Axe. It is our first multi-position rod, and one where we really put some serious thought into the design. Maybe it wasn't our best idea to launch it as Wisconsin's trout fishing season winds down, but hey, we're still new at this!
The Bad Axe is named after a river in Wisconsin's driftless region. No one is really sure where the river got its name, but you have to admit that it sounds cool. We also thought we could design some pretty cool graphics at some point, you know like a badger with an axe?
I had the opportunity to test the rod the other morning after working a night shift. My routine for working night shifts has become as follows: work my tail off all night, crash for a couple hours in the morning, go fish for a while then go home to the family. It is exhausting, but it allows me to earn a living, get out and fish and be available to my family. Not sure what I'm going to do once it freezes up.
This week, I went back to the small mouth bass creek Matt and I fished recently. We found that this creek more or less shuts down once the weather cools, so we may only able to fish it for another week or two.
I started by casting to the brush pile where I caught a few rock bass last time. Rock bass generally are not difficult to catch, but I got no action this time. Maybe no one was home. I worked towards the middle of the pool and hooked into a 10 inch smallie. Not a bad start. Most of the bass we caught in this creek are between 8-12 inches, so not huge but definitely fun on a tenkara rod.
In the next pool, it seemed that about every cast drew interest from a fish. I landed about half a dozen and had a couple other long distance releases. And then something changed. Have you ever experienced anything like that? It was a strange sensation, but I knew I would catch fewer fish after that.
In the next large pool, I cast several times without garnering any interest from the fish. I then walked back down stream, crossed the creek and stalked up the other side so I could cast to some promising looking structure. After dramatically altering my retrieve techinque, I did manage to catch three more bass from the pool. But that was it. It was like the creek completely shut down at that point and I did not get so much as a follow. I'm not sure what did it. I think it may have been the sun getting higher in the sky, but it was sunny when I started. I had hoped to keep an eye on the stream temperature that day to help me figure out when the creek will fish well, but my thermometer was missing in action. Strange.
All that being said, I should give you my impression of the rod. In short, I love it! It casts beautifully and accurately, and has a very nice look and feel. It is a bit softer than the Badger Classic. I fished 12 feet of floating Badger Line, 6 feet of 2x tippet, and #6 cone head streamer. It was a heavy rig, but the rod handled it without blinking. These 10-12 inch small mouth just about bent the rod in half, but then a 10 inch small mouth will put up a more vigorous fight than a similar size trout. I have no doubt it will handle larger fish just fine, but I got the feeling you need to actively play the fish a bit more, unlike the Badger Classic where you can just stonewall even very large fish. It was a ton of fun!
I think this rod is a pretty sweet deal at this price point. One thing you might notice is that it is longer than most other tenkara rods when collapsed. So far that has not been a problem. It still fits just fine in my Zimmerbuilt pack, and even when bushwhacking through the brush on my last outing, I did not feel like it was in danger. So, yes, it is longer, but so far that does not seem to be a big issue. It is still lightweight, well-balanced and easy to cast. Check it out!
BAD AXE Trout
When we designed the BAD AXE, we had three core principles in mind. We wanted to offer a rod that is practical, versatile, and fun to fish. Most importantly, we wanted to maintain a price point that made the rod accessible for as many anglers as possible. Once we arrived at the final specifications, the only thing left to do was wait and see how the rod actually performed when we got it on the water. The final version of the BAD AXE exceeded our expectations on every level!
I've fished it at both lengths, on some very different types of water in both Iowa and North Carolina. Its caught trout from 6-14 inches on dry flies, streamers, wet flies, nymphs, and kebari. I've fished furled lines, level line, and 3 different floating lines. The BAD AXE has performed well under every configuration.
I've found the cast to be smooth and crisp at both lengths, but one thing has really stood out to me throughout this process - the rod is extremely consistent. It fishes nearly the same for every line and fly choice I've tried on it. There are always going to be small variations, but I didn't have to adjust my casting stroke very much to make the rod perform well on any given rigging.
The rod really sings with our new BADGER-LITE floating line. It throws it so well, in fact, that a very experienced angler at the Appalachian Tenkara Jam (who prefers furled lines) fished this combo for 10 minutes before realizing that it wasn't a furled line! Stay tuned folks, even though we sold out of BADGER-LITE at the Jam, we will have more available soon.
The biggest fish I've caught so far on the BAD AXE is a 14 inch Iowa Brown Trout (top left in pictures below). He made some really solid runs on me, which is when I discovered how much more dynamic the rod's action is when compared to the CLASSIC. I never felt that the fish was out of control, or that the rod was in danger, but it definitely required more active play than I had anticipated. I am confident that the BAD AXE can handle much larger fish, but I believe it's action is optimal for making the Driftless standard 10-15 inch trout an absolute blast!
We are very excited to offer the BAD AXE for $99, and we believe that the moment you cast it, you'll understand why.
Trip report October 1st, 2014
Wisconsin trout season closed September 30th, but that doesn't mean we're done fishing! There's a nice bass stream we explored a little bit last year that we wanted to spend some more time on this season. We had planned to fish it during the height of summer when it is too warm to trout fish, but we had such a mild summer that that never happened. So, we were back on this little gem as soon as the trout season closed.
For once, conditions worked out in our favor. Matt and I manage to get out to fish quite a bit, sometimes multiple outings per week during the season. However, given our family and work obligations, we don't always manage to get out during the prime times of day for fishing, nor during prime conditions. I can't tell you how many times we have lost the favorable cloud cover on the way to the creek. Yesterday, though, we timed everything right. We got on the creek at about 12:30, getting towards the warmest time of day. Morning temps were in the high 40's, but it was reaching 70 by afternoon, the warm up being favorable for bass fishing. Best of all, for once the clouds rolled in about the time we started fishing. Storms were predicted for the evening, and sometimes the threat of storm seems to trigger the fish to feed.
We started in a skinny stretch of stream that we had not fished before. We brought a few rough fish to hand, which we never complain about, but were not what we were looking for. We moved up to a bridge pool that looked to have some significant depth, perhaps six feet or so. There, Matt pulled in a small mouth off the bank followed by a fiesty rock bass. There was a nice brush pile on my side of the stream that was good for three rock bass, and between the two of us, we caught nearly a dozen bass and rough fish from the bridge pool!
As we moved up the stream, we came upon some bend pools there were nothing short of glorious. Smallmouth, Rockbass, a few little Bluegill, and several kinds of rough fish were hitting left and right! The smallmouths were the largest we caught, but were not huge. The smallest was 8 or 9 inches, and the larger fish were a foot, give or take a bit. Still, the fight a 12 inch smallmouth will give you on a tenkara rod is really something to behold!
The nicer pools were all good for several fish each, and the deeper runs would also produce. Dropping the fly just in front of any structure seemed to be the ticket, as was fishing tight to the bank. It was one of those days were you look at a piece of water and think "that should hold a fish", and sure enough, you'd get a take.
I was fishing the Badger Tenkara Classic with about 12 feet of our Badger floating line, followed by about 10 inches of bright red nylon Amnesia to act as an indicator with 6 feet of 2x tippet. The fly I was using was a white streamer pattern with a cone head. This rig is rather heavy for tenkara (and pretty un-tenkara), but the rod handled it just fine. The fish would tend to take fly just as it was sinking or as I started to twitch it back to me.
Matt was fishing a field modified rod with a Badger Floating Line (see Matt's comments on this below). This set up works surprising well. He started with a large version his new favorite fly, the "pass lake", and when that was lost to a snag, he switched to a bead head woolly bugger. Both worked just fine. It was cool to see the bend the Smallmouth would put in his field hacked rod!
This creek is just one of the many options we have for fishing once the trout season closes. We have some old favorites we hope to hit in the next few weeks and some new waters we have yet to explore. We'll keep you posted on what we find!
Note from Matt on field hacked rods:
Here is an easy, cost effective hack. I keep a few rolls of self-adhesive athletic tape in my kit, because it comes in handy for quick repairs to several types of gear. This stuff sells for less than $5 at just about any pharmacy or family store.
Simply remove the bottom grip section, or even a the next one or two sections from the rod. You then wrap the self adhesive tape around the new bottom section, which serves like a butt cap to keep collapsed sections secure inside the rod. Then, wrap it up another six inches or so to shape a handle.
This configuration reduced the rod's length a few feet, and results in a softer action! While I really enjoy fishing with the Badger Classic, it has a stiffer action to it that is great for larger fish. With this softer action, smaller fish are even more fun than usual!
The nice thing is that the tape only sticks to itself, and not the rod. This means that you can return the rod to its original configuration any time without damaging its finish or functionality!
Matt and I got out last week to fish a creek we really enjoy but had not fished since spring. As is typically the case, by the time Matt and I took care of our family obligations in the morning, the cloud cover was gone and we were facing a bright, sunny day. Full sun is wonderful for my tomato plants, not so great for the trout fishing.
When we arrived, the newly rehabbed section of the creek caught our eye. The work was completed sometime this summer, after the last time we fished the creek. I think the pictures speak for themselves. The Aldo Leopold Trout Unlimited chapter did an incredible job restoring the creek. I had fished this same section last year prior to the rehab work, and it was miserable: difficult to fish, muddy,steep banks and few fish. I managed to hook one under a dilapidated foot bridge, but that was it, and getting to that fish was pretty unpleasant with overgrown brush, lots of deadfalls and stinking marsh. In contrast, fishing it this year was relaxing and enjoyable.
Despite the beautiful rehab work, I think someone forgot to tell the trout that they should move into their new digs. I caught one eight incher, and we spooked a few others, but that was it. Of course, we were fishing at the wrong time of day under bright sun, so that could have something to do with it, too. This is one situation where I think it would be good for the DNR to stock the stream, at least to jump start it. I think it will go on to be a self-sustaining fishery, but it could use some help to get going. Stream temps were about perfect at 59 degrees, and with plenty of structure and holding water, I think this stream could really be something in the next couple of years.
Once we reached the end of the rehab work, we hiked back to the truck and drove up stream to the section we typically fish. We started a the bridge pool were Matt had a couple of monster rainbows break his tippet earlier in the season. I thought about switching to some 4x or even 3x just in case, but decided to try my luck with and just stay with the 5x I had rigged and ready. We know this pool is pretty deep, and while we have caught some nice medium size fish with unweighted or lightly weighted flies, we know the big boys lurk deep. I peered into my fly box looking for something tempting with a little weight to it. I grabbed a bead headed San Ron Worm I tied up a while back, a pattern I really don't have any experience fishing.
I cast the the SRW towards the head of the pool, letting the current and weight sink the fly. Imagine my shock when I saw what looked like a leviathan rainbow rise from the deep and absolutely crush the SRW. I got a solid hook set on him, but now what? I knew there was a good chance that if I tried to play him at all he would bust the 5x tippet. I think instinct took over, and I thought "I have to get this guy on the bank before he breaks off". I basically ran backwards, towing him towards the bank. As soon as the fish was on the bank, the tippet snapped and the fish started to flip towards the water. Not my most graceful performance.
We moved on up stream from there and were alarmed to see how much some of the stream had silted in since spring. Some of the better pools and runs were just ruined. Many of the fish were hanging out in the soft, shallow inside corners, making them just about unapproachable. Matt managed to hook a couple of nice medium size browns from tight under the bank, and we both got into a few chubs, but that was it. It will be interesting to see how the stream winters over and what it is like in the spring.
So, we managed to catch a few fish despite undesirable conditions. We also had a great time, which is really all you can ask for.
Our trout season here in Wisconsin is winding down, but Matt and I have some other adventures planned for fall and winter. Stay tuned!
This big, beautiful Rainbow Trout was caught on an "Ima bust it" rod that was modified with a jute wrapped handle. Pulling in 70% of the total votes, this is the BREAK THIS ROD winner!!!
We hope that everybody had as much fun fishing these "special" rods as we did. We were able to catch a mess of bass and more than a few trout with ours, and while they were a bit top heavy, they definitely did the trick. Just goes to show that while a rod is tool that you cant fish Tenkara style without, the things that really catches fish are technique, knowledge, and field craft.
Next year, well do another round of "BREAK THIS ROD!", and we'll start it in the Spring so people have all summer to go wild with it. Maybe we'll go with smaller, lighter rods and maybe we'll find some 20 ft monsters, or maybe both!
The summer has come to a close, and so has our BREAK THIS ROD! contest. With our resourceful participants and comments from the peanut gallery, we had a blast! It was a ton of fun seeing the reactions, modifications, and fish that people caught on these incredibly cheesy fishing rods.
Please vote for your favorite on the poll below the pictures. The winner will receive a coupon code good for $50 in the Badger Store!
#1 - Bluegill caught on 13' of 3.5 level line, 24" 5x tippet and a large yellow booglebug popper. The cast was launched from a parking lot, ricocheted off of a snack shop, flew through the open doors of a mini-van, and then landed 3 feet off shore to make the catch. That is what long line Tenkara is for!
#2 - Bluegill caught with top-secret line and fly combination. We are risking the loss of our security clearance just by showing you this picture.
#3 - Rainbow caught on rod with Jute-wrapped handle...just prior to "Mother Nature" attempting to murder the angler. RIP, Imabustit' Rod.
The day started cloudy and threatening rain - looking at the radar I thought I might actually be stuck in the car and waiting for a storm to pass when I hit the access. The weather rapidly blew over, and by the time I arrived, it was full out beautiful sunny day. There are worse problems to have, right?
Conventional wisdom says that going trout fishing on a sunny, late summer day in Wisconsin is a fool's errand, but with some careful use of terrain and a bit of water reading savvy, a Tenkara angler can still have a great day on the creek. I rigged up the Badger Classic with 12 ft of floating Badger line, 6 ft of tippet, and one of the larger "Pass Lake" flies I'd been itching to fish.
Shiners and creek chubs were hungry and I caught several of them in places where you'd typically find actively feeding trout, but other than that the first few runs were lifeless. Time to shift tactics.
In my opinion, travel is the best investment one can make. It's the only one I can think of that doesn't depreciate over time. In fact, the value of past adventures only seems to grow and grow. Looking back at the last three months I'm astounded by how much I've managed to see, accomplish and learn. My mind warps when I try to unpack and relive all the memories that I've managed to fit into one summer. In the grand scheme of things, 90 days is a swift passage of time. But considering the ground I've covered, the souls I've encountered and the lessons that have arisen from this journey it's been the longest, most revelatory 90 days of my life.
August, in particular, has been very action-packed. But in an odd way I've found the commotion to be quite natural. I've found a sense of normalcy in the calculated chaos necessary to live out of panniers.
After my romp through Germany, I arrived in Vienna to meet up with a group of fellow Americans to attend a permaculture workshop taught in part by the infamous "Rebel Farmer" Sepp Holzer. The twelve day symposium would bring us through the rich cultural landscape of the Styrian mountains as we visited various farms, producers and stewards of the land. Though I had to store my bike in Vienna for the time being, the fishing quiver very easily fit into my daypack. Sad as I was to leave Freyja behind, my load was significantly lighter. About 35ish lbs. She's a Cadillac...not a Porsche.
The first four days of the workshop were held on Sepp Holzer's private land where fishing was essentially out of the question. No need to upset the man who diligently and regularly uses his legal fisticuffs to protect his Alpen paradise. But the mountainous landscape riddled with clear streams of glacial runoff had me eyeing potential beats everywhere we went. I was chomping at the bit and eager for aqueous adventure. Still, no dice. Strike one.
Upon arriving in Übelbach, our host, Johnny, assured me that I'd get a chance to fish in his charming Styrian hometown. After all, "bach" means brook or stream auf Deutsch. And in this case, the stream ran right through the center of the town. Similar to Germany, Austria is rather strict with their public access laws. But rightfully so. As a foreigner, I would need permission from a tenured landowner for everything to be copasetic. Johnny had a friend who owned farmland adjacent to the stream. Unfortunately, said friend was on holiday whilst we were in Übelbach. Strike two. Patience.
Several days later the permaculture workshop came to a close and I was reunited with my bike. No bites--not even a remote chance of legally fishing--but many great memories and new friends. A very eye-opening experience indeed to spend time with such mindful and engaged people. Plus, I got a dashing new pair of lederhosen. No longer do I need to wear the hand-me-downs of my grandfather--cherished as they may be.
On that note, it's appropriate that I explain the significance of my final point of interest on this journey: Zell am See.
My great grandfather, Gustave Krollman (aka Gusty), was a native born Austrian. He moved to the US before having children, but he never lost touch with his heritage. Summer after summer Gusty would take my grandfather, Carl, with him as he traveled back to his homeland to take rest and paint in the picturesque village of Zell am See. Anyone who knew Carl also knew that these summers had an undeniable impact on him. Visiting often, he kept friendships alive late into his life and then handed the torch off to me and my cousins. I grew up listening to countless stories from these fabled summers. Wherever he went in life, Carl carried Austria in his heart. And I similarly have the Austrian pride running through my veins.
After Carl's passing, some of his ashes were spread in the beautiful Zeller lake. A few of my family members have been fortunate enough to visit over the years, but this is my first time. A very appropriate way to end this pilgrimage; by visiting my grandfathers resting place in one of the most beautiful mountain vistas on earth. Aside from the heritage aspect, the opportunities to fish, camp and bike are abundant here.
My first day in Zell I did some reconnaissance around the lake. Many local anglers fish for Zander and Pike either offshore or in a boat. But the lake also has a healthy Trout population. After a few hours of searching I found a beautiful outflow with water clear enough to spot a few Rainbows hanging out in the open. On my approach they retreated to the shady bank of the stream. I'd have to be more methodical to hook these beauties, but I had my beat secured.
The next morning I rose early to greet the day. Clear skies and no wind. Perfect. I quickly made my way back to the sweet spot and geared up. I was able to make a more stealth approach this time by wading through high grass on the marshy bank. Once again, I spotted a few trout and started to cast. Perhaps it was my less-than-perfect casting ability, or maybe my choice of killer bug flies, but I only seemed to send the fish back to their hiding spot. Time to think.
After a short breakfast break I relocated to another spot farther up the stream closer to the lake. I found a walking bridge that allowed me to peer into the water where I once again saw trout schooling. But before gearing up and choosing a fly, I sat and read the surroundings. A week of rain had raised the water significantly and there was lots of particulate flowing down the outflow. The only visible insects in the water were crawling along the top. Hint hint.
The only terrestrial fly that I've got with me is a foam spider. Seemed like an odd choice at first but I thought "what the hell...can't hurt." So I tied it on and let 'er rip. Perched on the bridge, I started to cast upstream of the fish and let the spider float right in front of them. It certainly got their attention. My vantage point helped in watching them gain interest. Only once I had them trailing would I give the line a teeny twitch. After four or five casts...BOOM. I had landed a whopper.
Compared to the negligibly sized Perch I had caught previously, this trout gave one hell of a fight. With an aggressive bite it wasn't hard to set the hook, but I had to get off the bridge and down in the marsh to bring him in. After he fought upstream for five or so minutes, he was tired enough that I could bring him to shore by hand. No net. Just patience. An EXTREMELY gratifying catch indeed. Cooked with garlic and lemon over coals, a delicious one as well.
I can't help but think I've redeemed myself with this lovely Trout. But I can't take all of the credit. I feel like it was a gift. A cosmic pat on the back from my grandpa watching over me. Any way you look at it, I can't think of a more quintessentially perfect way to end such an amazing journey.
A nice afternoon of thunderstorms had just washed across the Driftless region, and being without obligations - I made a bee line for my favorite stream. happy to see no one else parked anywhere along the creek, I made my way to a section I'd yet to fish. The entire segment runs through grazed pasture, meaning its an easy walk, and the stream itself is only modestly wide, so there really is no "bad" place to fish from on either bank.
While I had spotted a few creeks that were blown out, chocolate milk messy on the trip there, this water was a bit higher and faster than normal, and tinted just enough provide an advantage for an angler in a lazy mood. The local herd of cows were either downstream and fenced away, or sheltering in the wood line far from the creek. Jackpot!
I decided I'd start with the largest hopper I had along, thinking the bigger profile would help increase its chance of being detected in the murky water. It worked like a charm, and drew a nice hit on the first cast. Unfortunately, both that fish and the next two, were able to slip the hook before I could land them.
I downgraded to another hopper, this one smaller - but bright green, figuring that the larger size may have been an issue. It seemed to do the trick, as the hits kept coming but I was also able to get much better sets on the strikes.
After just an hour and a half of fishing, I'd caught 5 nice browns all 8-12 inches, and missed or "long distance released" another 6. This section is high on my list for a repeat trip - I'd love to fish it when the water is calm and clear.
On hybrids and holism:
And the train rolls on. For real. In a both literal and metaphysical sense. I'm now aboard the third train that's assisted me in this leg of the journey. While part of me feels like I'm cheating, the greater, more clarvoyant half of my conscious tells me to sit back and enjoy the views. This far in I can already appreciate the various benefits and luxuries of this hybrid-style touring. But that's not to say it is free of all sacrifices.
The farther south I move, the more colorful and populated the landscape becomes. Bigger cities of course have more potent auras of culture and endless forms of entertainment, but they're a staunch departure from what I've grown used to. Few (if any) places to camp, the absence of public-access rights and congested, dirty waterways were difficult transitions to make after two months in the farm-speckled and pristine wilderness of the North. Needless to say I've had fewer opportunities to fish. Major city centers aren't nearly as relaxed as the local municipalities of Norway and Sweden--saturated with free rowboats and stove- touting wind huts--when it comes to regulating their fishing beats. But exploring each new city brings a fresh variety of reasons for me to appreciate urban dwelling.
For the most part, riding rails in Europe with a fully-loaded fatbike is a non-issue. Language barriers and general dysfunctionality as a foreigner seem to be my only setbacks. But other than that's it's proved to be a very pleasant way to travel. Judging by how many other cycle-tourists are aboard each train I ride, it's certainly popular here. The minor inconvenience of lugging a bike into a train is easily compensated by the mobility you get when arriving at your destination. With only three days to spend in both Malmö and Copenhagen, my sight-seeing time was at a premium. After dropping my panniers and other weighty gear at my Couchsurfing host's place, I was free to roam around the city independently and at the exact pace of my choosing. Covering ten square kilometers by foot or public transport doesn't afford you nearly the same amount of flexibility that a bike does. Running late or missing a turn is no concern while on the bike. In fact, getting lost is fun when it gets you away from the heavily-trodden tourist traps to find something unique.
Much more so than in The States, Europe embraces bike culture. The universally accepted mindset that cycling should be respected and upheld is reflected in the infrastructure. Copenhagen is a beaming example of this mindful thinking. With more bikes than people, all of Denmark is equipped with not only bike lanes but full-on bike roads with their own traffic signals. Parents haul their children and groceries in cargo bikes that had capacities larger than those of wheelbarrows. Hoards of people in all shapes and sizes make their daily and nightly rounds all by leg power driving their chainrings. Everywhere you go, bikes dominate the road. For this reason and many more, Copenhagen will remain as a premier port-of-call in my travelers log. More than anything, it's just a beautiful city with vibrant culture and many affordances for cyclists. Though my other destinations have proven worthy candidates as well.
Hamburg came and went too quickly. I was lucky enough to have family friends host me while staying there. Their hospitality is much appreciated. Especially as the city itself is quite large and unwavering in propulsion. What used to be several villages separated by distance and water has now morphed into a fully-industrialized seaport that hasn't lost any of it's old-world charm. With an air of capitalist drive the city center seems to have more western influence than many of the other places I have previously visited. But paying €0,5 to use a toilet is an ever-present reminder that I'm in Europe. Not surprisingly, Hamburg has an abundance of water features and plenty of bike trails to complement them. What is surprising is that fishing almost never happens in these smaller waterways. Instead, many locals have taken to fishing Zander from the steep brick embankments in the industrial parts of the city. Deemed "urban fishing", this style of angling is frowned upon and has created cult-like followings that lay claim to their outlawish beats. Strange as it may seem, it is a reasonable response to fish the deep, cold waters of the ship canals rather than the otherwise polluted and high-traffic flows of the Elbe and other waterways in the city.
Brussels offered similarly poor opportunities for fishing but was markedly different in atmosphere. The fusion of French and Flemish speaking people provides the small metropolis with a rich culture that has an appreciation for international influence. They also really appreciate decadent food, strong coffee and tons of killer beer. I spent my days there avoiding rain showers in cafés and bars between my attempts to track down natural habitat to cast in. Much like Hamburg and Copenhagen the water found within city limits was subject to pollution and algal overgrowth. Upsetting that the confluence of humans and nature is so evidently negative in the urban setting. But it should come as no surprise.
As I now sit and reflect in this train-car I find myself weighing the pros and cons of city life. There is no doubt that I'm satisfied with my choice to have visited these amazing places. But it's strikingly obvious that this urban route has taken a bite out of my fishing time. I miss the wide open spaces of the Nordic countries ripe with fjords, lakes and rivers. And after seeing the drastic effects of dense populations on our planet, I'm inspired to continue reducing my own impact. Thankfully I've been able to find balance by visiting parks, gardens and public green spaces while in each major city. Europeans certainly value such spots. These sanctuaries help to break the commanding grip of a concrete jungle, but they also help to ground us and remind us of what's really important and worth preserving. I guess the lesson to be learned here is that a little bit of everything is good only as long as it's kept in balance. Hyrbidization in practice requires holism in thought. Or something like that.
For the last week and a half I've been living the island life. The Swedish island life, that is. Upon numerous reccomendations from locals I've met along the way, I decided to alter my south-bound route to include stops at Swedens two largest isles, Gotland and Öland. Despite having tough luck with fishing, this decision proved to be a valuable one. These beautiful archipelagos provided diverse scenery and a smooth transition into the next phase of my travels.
Gotland is the self described "Island Paradise" of Sweden's south-eastern coast. The regional capital, Visby, is perhaps one of the most beautifully preserved ancient cities of Europe. Surrounded by tall fortress walls of limestone, the inner city has a whimsical blend of castle ruins, quaint cobblestone streets and bustling cafés of various nationalities. A place where modernity and antiquity blend seamlessly in a surreal fashion to create a unique appreciation for culture both new and old. The island offerings attract a wide variety of tourists from Stockholm club-junkies to cycle tourists and wild-campers such as myself. The rich variety of nightlife and nature was perhaps the most interesting part of such a localized space. I wish I had given myself more time to cycle around the island. Two days and three nights was certainly not enough to experience all Gotland had to offer. So I decided to focus my efforts on exploring in and around the city of Visby.
The landscape of Gotland is much different from that of mainland Sweden. The tree growth is much more juvenile than the tall pine forests I had grown used to in the country's interior. This made finding a place to hang my hammock a but more difficult, but I managed to find a nice spot within audible distance of the crashing waves. The island also has much fewer lakes and rivers. Fishing opportunities generally came in the form of Sea Trout and a few other varieties of Salmon in the northern territory. Eel is also apparently a popular local catch but I was a little unclear on the regulations and techniques for such an endeavor. A guide at a local sporting store informed me that Sea Trout don't require a license and are found in several areas along the coastline of the city. Of course he wouldn't give me specifics without agreeing to pay for his guiding services but the advice was appreciated anyways. So bright and early in the morning of my second day I set out to try Tenkara on Sea Trout.
4:30 wake up calls are never fun. Especially in spitting rain. But what the hell. This was going to be an adventure. The coastal waters have a very shallow depth and require quite a bit of wading in order to cast. Being that I don't have any waders, I donned flip-flops and shorts as I walked out into the sea. The Baltic waters were calm but very cold on this particular morning. After an hour of unsuccessful fishing I was feeling a bit foolish and unprepared. So once the sun started to rise and the rain was clearing, I relocated to a pier that stretched out maybe 300 feet into the water so I could stay warm and relatively dry.
Once again, the fishing was pretty slow from this concrete. I toyed around with a few different flys and moved up and down the pier to varying depths. While it was a beautiful way to spend the morning, I ultimately wound up with no bites. A bad day fishing is better than most. After two days in Gotland, I was packed up and back on the bike. Well, not after another ferry ride of course. I biked south from Oskarshamn to Kalmar in order to gain access by yet another ferry to the longer, skinnier island of Öland. Though I probably would have been content with a longer stay on the mainland. If Gotland is the "Island Paradise" of Sweden, then Öland is the desirous younger brother that doesn't quite have a hang of it yet. While the island itself is abounding with cultural sites like castles and nature preserves, it lacks something in the vein of individuality. Much of the landscape is gradual and tame, allowing for a good deal of farming and less so of scenery. The western coast where I was cycling is fragmented with claustrophobic camping sites, tacky tourist traps and the occasional windmill. So I pushed on to the northern village of Borgholm where I was able to find a very nice nature preserve where I could escape from the crowds and do a bit of exploring.
Just outside of Borgholm, the preserve was a water-protection habitat that used marshland to act as a natural filter for the agricultural runoff spilling into the sea. But fishing was still allowed
for free. Not so sure that my hammock-camping spot was totally kosher but I ran into no issues. Situated right by the water, my campsite gave me the opportunity to try out some more Sea Trout angling. Though, my experience on Öland was very similar to the fishing to be had on Gotland. Lots of running around, rearranging and daydreaming without any action on the rod. I have a feeling that Sea Trout are a more exacting beast than I had imagined. But I was happy just to have the opportunity to clear my head by the water watching the sun trace up and down the horizon.
Despite having no luck with the fish, I'm very satisfied with my visit to the islands. Both Gotland and Öland are getaways for the locals of Sweden, giving me a unique and refreshing perspective on the culture and also allowing me to get some R&R myself. Taking some time to slow down and resituate was perhaps an obligatory move for mental clarity as I switch gears and prepare for my trek south. I'll be getting some assistance from railways during my next leg and will be visiting some larger cities along the way. Taking the time to reflect on where I've been and also appreciate where I am at the moment is giving me the spirit-fire necessary to embrace the coming adventures with full awareness. I realize now, more than ever, how truly amazing this experience is and how fortunate I am to be doing what I love while meeting new people and making new memories along the way. This blog of course can't capture every detail of my journey, every nuanced moment or every illuminating conversation. But I hope that it at least gives a good glimpse into the life of a nomadic bike fisherman forging his way through foreign territories. It's a righteous feeling.
We think fixed line fishing styles like Tenkara are an absolute blast, but if you're at all like us, you sometimes get the itch to try something a little "different" with it. Those ideas often involve using the equipment in ways that.....might....maybe....exceed the limitations of the rod. Since we don't want to put our rods out of commision and constantly replace broken sections, these ideas usually get shelved in favor of keeping our good gear intact.
Badger Tenkara is excited to announce that It's time to get out there and fish "outlaw style" - which is any way you want, with whatever equipment and crazy idea you can dream up. We've found the ideal rod to use as an experimental platform, loaner, or beater rod - the SuperNova 360!
Here is how the contest works - purchase a SuperNova 360 for $30 shipped, and you're automatically entered in the contest. Go ahead, experiment, and use this rod any way you want to catch the most outrageous fish you can. We'll all vote to determine who's catch is the most epic, and the winner receives a $50 Badger Tenkara coupon code!
Use your "SuperNova 360" anyway you want to land the most outrageous fish you can!
Click here to see the SuperNova 360 features and specifications.
The angler who lands the most legendary fish wins a Badger Tenkara Coupon Code for $50!
Sweden is incredible. I'm very glad that I made the decision to spend a good bit of time here. It seems that a month has flown by in no time at all--but that month has been absolutely flooded with amazing experiences and many lessons I won't soon forget. Time is strange like that; fleeting moments that are weighted beyond their size or duration. But i'll save you the philosophical rant and get straight to the details.
For roughly the last three weeks I’ve been taking refuge at my new home in the charming countryside village of Ålberga (pronounced: ool-berry-ya). I’ve been welcomed into a vibrant group of people who live communally on a small farm outside of the nearby city of Nyköping. The 6 hectare homestead was started in the early 60’s by the matriarch/patriarch couple of Kjell and Marianne—two quasi-revolutionary hippies who are living proof that the green wave is still alive and kicking. Since the farms inception, their children and their children’s children have all moved to the property to grab a little slice of surrealistic beauty. With friends, family and transplants included, the year round inhabitants of Smedstorp total 16 people, span 4 generations and come from a wide variety of cultural backgrounds. The property is decorated with over a dozen hand-built structures of various sizes, functions and designs. Chickens and sheep roam freely around the grounds, adding to the au-naturale vibe. Everything that can’t be recycled or composted (including human waste) is burned and turned into ash fertilizer. Everything is made from scratch and repairs are necessarily taken care of in-house. One can’t help but notice a sense of organized chaos in this beautiful place. But it’s in the best possible way.
Living on a commune requires a unique perspective on possession and belonging. It seems as though many of us would approach this living arrangement with a bit of reluctance. Relinquishing our personal freedoms for the benefit of others doesn’t usually come easily. But I’ve learned to love the simplicity and joy in this lifestyle. I support you and you support me. Together we can do more. No need to make things complicated. Most everything — especially the land — is universally shared at Smedstorp. Though everyone seems to maintain separate households, schedules and prerogatives with no issue. This style of living offers many benefits to the country life. Rather than living in solitude on the farm, Smedstorp residents always have something going on to entertain them. Aside from international travelers rolling through every so often, there are many attractions that bring people to this magnetic place. Just this week we wrapped up a festival of culture and arts. Completely organized and funded by the family, over 250 people were in attendance to celebrate the joys and beauty of simple living in the country. There is no doubt that everyone here has an overflowing passion for nature.
One of the Smedstorp residents I’ve gotten to know rather well is a man by the name of John. He is a friend of the family who moved to the farm to escape the pressures of living in Stockholm and to get closer to nature. He is a fellow fisherman who has an abundance of knowledge for the surrounding lakes and streams of the area. Previously, he worked as a kayak guide in the north of Sweden before landing in the southern, more agriculturally dominated landscape. We’ve chatted many times about fishing, camping and exploits in the wild. He’s been a mentor of sorts; giving me tips and insights on where to cast my line-as well as other worldly advice. His recommendation for fishing was to move closer to the sea in order to find cleaner waters. Because of the presence of agriculture in the area, many of the lakes are murky, shallow and dirty with the streams even more so. Closer to the Baltic, John explained, I could expect to find clearer, colder waters with better populations of fish. And so the search began. On weekends and afternoons when I wasn't busy with farm work I was off on the bike to explore some new fishing holes.
The mobility and ease of bike fishing cannot be overstated. Coupled with a Badger Tenkara Classic rod, this simple quiver for exploring has given me a great deal of flexibility in choosing the perfect fishing spot. Many of the lakes I've tried in this area have been duds. Perhaps I'm not patient enough, but casting from shore without live bait or a boat only allows me so much room for experimentation. So rather than continuing my efforts at a slow hole, I'd simply pack up my gear and move down the shoreline or to a new lake entirely. Collapsing the rod and wrapping my line takes less than two minutes and I'm back on the bike and mobile. After repeating this process of trial and error a few times over, I found a lake which started paying off: Navsjön.
Only an hour away from the farm by bike, Navsjön is a large, marshy lake that is stocked with pike, perch and even salmon. Needless to say it was an appealing option. There is also a trail network that wraps around the lake giving me many different access points. When I first arrived the rain was light but persistent so I chose to cast from beneath a large tree canopy. This maybe wasn't the best choice as I didn't get a single bite in over an hour with a variety of flies and drag patterns. As the rain cleared and I moved closer to the bogs of the lake, my luck began to change. I soon started to catch small perch left and right.
've learned that, to locals, these perch are known as Aborra. Many consider them to be the tastiest fish in the region. But their abundance is perhaps the greatest contributor to their popularity. It's also probably why I've seen only perch on the end of my line. Though when I told my hosts that I caught several of these using only fixed line and flies they were impressed. Typically, anglers will use more sophisticated setups to go after Aborra. In my experience it's not necessary. Here's how I did it.
Like most fish, Aborra are more active during early and late periods of the day. This explains why my strikes increased as the day went on. They are also sub-surface feeders so I was choosing my flies accordingly--going only for weighted emergers and nymphs. I found the most successful fly to be a small orange nymph wrapped in copper wire with a gold beaded head. I used about 3 feet of tippet with an indicator attached right where it met the level line. This helped to give some suspensory properties but also allowed me to more easily tell when I should set the hook. I searched for natural habitats like sunken logs and lily pads to cast into, and would get as close to the as possible. When I had nailed my target, I would allow the fly to sink before slowly dragging it along the contour of my chosen habitat. No action other than a gradual troll through the water. When I felt a nibble, I'd delicately set the line by snapping the rod up. As before, pulling in the hooked Aborra by hand was a breeze. I'd wait until the fish was done fighting, reach for the line, set my rod down gently and continue to pull him in hand over hand. With small fish this is very simple but I'd love to give it a try with a bigger more sporty catch.
I've now packed up my things and have said my goodbyes to the kind souls at Smedstorp. Moving on is hard to do but I have a strong feeling that this isn't the end but rather a new beginning. Today I'll board a ferry to the island destination of Gotland where I'll stay a few days before continuing south. Aside from being a resort destination, Gotland has got some promising fishing opportunities in the Baltic waters. I'm only halfway through this journey but there is still much more to go. Stay tuned for what Tenkara can offer in saltwater scenarios!
Sometimes a place is so special to you have trouble describing it in words. We could tell you that this creek is spring fed, but rambles through a lush forest valley like a freestone stream. We could say that in places like this, a person can feel like they are part of the natural wonder of the world. We could try to explain that visiting this place is an experience that often recharges the soul. None of these words are able to express the reality of spending time along Rocky Creek, so we'll share this video and hope you can feel a piece of it.
Greetings from the road! I'm twelve days into this pilgrimage and I've come a long way physically, mentally and spiritually since I've last posted. I'm currently taking shelter in a fishermans lean-to on the shore of lake Busjön in the western Swedish province of Hagfors as I tap-type this on my iPhone. But before I get to the here and now, a run-down of what's happened since I last checked in:
My starting point of Bergen was a spectacular way to launch into this journey. The beautiful sea port city had much to offer in cultural terms as I arrived amidst the beginning of a summer festival. The hosts whom I found through they cycle-touring website, warmshowers.com, were gracious enough to let me stay for two nights as I nailed down my route with locals and explored the city. They also fed me very well and shared some of the local customs--including fishing etiquette, a few Norwegian words and a detailed explanation on why Norways wine monopolies were superior to their Swedish rivals.
My first jaunt on the road out of Bergen, I made very good distance covering an average of 100 kilometers a day. In no time at all, I had made it down the coast and to the opening of Hardangerfjord--arguably Norways most scenic waterway. The roads that took me up this fjord were absolutely incredible; raw majesty at its finest. Huge expanses of water and massive, steep cliffs complemented by quaint mountainside farms with rows of wild roses and rhododendrons made for an extremely scenic ride. A couple hundred kilometers and a few ferry rides later I stopped to rest in the small town of Øvre Eidfjord.
Threats of rain and a persistent cough were my primary motivations to hunker down in this valley before heading on. But I quickly learned of the crystal clear mountain river that emptied into the fjord right by my campsite. After chatting with a local over coffee and waffles, I learned that fishing this river would not be an option. Upsetting to say the least--especially since this was my first run-in with freshwater. He explained to me the unique regulations of Norwegian fishing. Most times, rules are dependent on the province or Kommune you are in. Other times, it's totally up to the landowner of the fishing hole, who very well might sell fiskekorts (fishing licenses) from his barn. The river in question was unfortunately off limits until the end of June. As an American, ignorance is always a believable excuse. But there was no way I could poach this river. Water is a vital and sacred part of the Nordic culture. So onward and upward it was.
From Eidfjord, I had one of the most physically and mentally taxing days of my young life, but I was rewarded for it. From the river valley, the iconic Mabødalen road would take me up more than 1,000 meters from sea level. 40 straight kilometers of climbing through sketchy conditions of rain, snow, narrow tunnels and gravel roads. Though halfway through it all I got to stop and take a break at the scenic vista of the Vøringfossen waterfall. You've probably seen it on a postcard or travel brochure somewhere. It's quite amazing in real life. After battling through the glacial plateau I was cold and numb on the descent into Geilo. I stopped for a hot meal and a cold beer but ended up getting a place to stay. The restauranteur was a fellow cycle tourist and I think could tell how depleted I was. Bonus tip for awesome hospitality.
The next few days were a breeze after that. Awesome weather and flat(ish) roads were all the motivation I needed to crush kilometers. I had chosen a scenic route that wrapped alongside rivers and lakes. Unfortunately, snow melt coupled with classic Norwegian rain spells meant they were too gorged and muddy to fish. No matter; I had my sights set on the road.
After several days in the mountainous interior I arrived at Norway's largest freshwater lake, Mjøsa. Surrounded by a trio of cities--Gjøvik, Lillehammer and Hamar--the clear and well-maintained water is a prime destination for fishermen. What makes it so special is a species of fish that is totally unique to the region: Mjøsotten. These lake trout--also known as Hundertrout--are a sub-species of brown trout that can weigh upwards of 20 pounds and are notoriously difficult to catch. I spent two days in Hamar trying my luck anyways. Kari, the host of my stay, is the city-planner of Hamar and thus had many suggestions of good spots to cast from. Surprisingly, I needed no permit or license to go after Mjøsotten. It is in fact encouraged by the local authorities in order to maintain a healthy population. Though I was unsuccessful in my efforts to catch any, I made some new friends along the way. Local anglers at the various spots I tried were very intrigued by the Tenkara stylings. Compared to their highly-specified setups, my rod seemed to be lacking something in their eyes. Several of them wanted to try casting with it, a few offered suggestions on "better" equipment, but none of them caught any Mjøsotten either.
Enlightened but not discouraged, I was on the road again. The terrain was becoming flatter and the lakes more frequent as I approached the eastern border. With my freshly acquired knowledge that lake trout don't require permits, I spent my last days in Norway breaking early in the afternoon to set up camp by water and bust out the gear. Fishing is a great way to unwind after getting off the bike and also helps to beat the sticky, inland heat.
I was starting to believe I had bad luck...or at the very least bad technique (still very likely). But on my LAST day in Norway--as if planned by fate/irony/comedic fishing gods or whathaveyou--I caught my first fish of the trip.
Regardless of what you may think, this little perch was a delight to hook. Aside from the satisfaction of finally getting something for my efforts, I was rather proud of my methodology. I paid attention to how and where the fish were active, tried a few different flies and tweaked my technique until I got a bite. The school I was going after seemed to be feeding beneath the surface, so I opted for a soft hackle kebari wet fly--barbless and tan in color. With a delicate cast and a slow drift through my observed sweet spot, it only took a few tries before I started feeling bites. I knew I had a solid strike when there was a quick, evident pop as my line grew taught and pulled beneath the surface. Not much of a fight to speak of, but obvious he was on the hook. Retrieving the line was a breeze as there was very minimal bending in the rod. I simply reached up to grab the level line and pulled him in hand over hand. Nothing to write home about--but, in this case, certainly something to blog about.
If the lesson from my last post was patience, this weeks lesson is persistence. I suppose the two compliment each other--especially in the realm of angling. I've learned from my travels as well as my fishing that answers aren't simply given to us. We must seek them out. But the search is perhaps the most rewarding part. It seems commonsense to say that it is where we stand to gain the most.
As I sit now beside this new and unexplored body of water, I'm filled with hope and excitement for what's to come. I can't say that all my days on the road have been easy ones. But when I find myself feeling stuck, frustrated or just plain tired, I take a breath and step back to realize the larger picture and am wiser because of it. Hard to do at times, but necessary for actual growth. So if at first you don't succeed, get a beer (or four) and find a new lake.
Before I started fishing Tenkara style, I was a casual angler. Bobber and worms were my primary tackle, and I had little interest in "Western" fly fishing, which seemed complex and a bit intimidating. Since I've become immersed in exploring Tenkara and other fixed line styles, I've had a growing curiosity about fly fishing with a reel.
Luckily for me, time, space, and circumstance lined up perfectly while in May when I visited Colorado. My good friend Tim just happens to be good friends with an incredibly skilled and highly experienced fly fishing guide, Dustin Harcourt of Harcourt Fly Fishing 3G. Dustin is the 3rd generation of his family to guide or outfit fly fisherman, and he literally grew up floating and fishing on the Colorado river. I could not have been more lucky in meeting him and having him as a guide/teacher for my first fly fishing experience with a reel!
The snow melt was in full swing and the river was blasting along at 19,000 cubic feet per second, leaving the water a deep chocolate brown that pretty much ruled out doing any fishing, but Dustin suggested we take a float and enjoy the ride. So off we went downstream, on a surprisingly calm float. While entire cottonwood trees were rocketing past us, we glided calmly along the surface, talking about fishing and enjoying the scenery. Up ahead, Dustin pointed out where a creek joins the Colorado, and said he had excellent luck there the week before on wading trip. Should we pull over and see if we could find some fish? YES SIR we SHOULD!
In contrast to the rivers silty dark brown, the water from the creek is off-color but definitely within a fish-able tolerance. We put in just below the creeks mouth, and he hands me a rod. I deliberately refuse to ask what kind it is or check the label for a brand, because I am certain that its a nice (read = expensive!) rig and I am already terrified I'll break it. "We are going to fish this in a style called high stick nymphing" he says..."It should be pretty close to the Tenkara your used to". The rod is rigged up with an 8 ft leader on sinking line. There is strike indicator about 6 feet from the tip, a good sized stonefly nymph about 4-5 feet down from that,and on the tip - a bare, red hook I'm guessing was somewhere around 1/0 in size. "The fish really go for this bare hook!" I am puzzled by this, but Dustin is an expert and I trust his judgement and experience.
We are casting pretty close to shore - about 10-15 feet - so long casts wont be needed, thankfully! The cast requires more arm motion, and less wrist movement than I am accustomed to, plus the heavy weight of the indicator and double rig feels a clunky at first. I take a few practice casts, which are pretty clumsy to start with, but I soon pick up on the balance and weight.
He explains to me that when I hook the fish, I am to grab the line below where my right hand trigger finger is holding the line and pull the fish in that way. I'm also told I can release the trigger finger to give the fish some line if it is big or makes strong run. Ok then - this seems to make sense and I am at the bare minimum required knowledge needed to give it a try.
I spot the nearest obvious current seem and chuck my cast there. Once the cast lands, the drift feels familiar. I keep the rod tip high and the line taught, with the indicator riding the surface. My casts are short and ugly but I am landing them in the target zone more often than not. I get into the groove and enjoy the mechanical repetition of cast, drift, repeat. I'm quickly warming up to it and starting to feel a bit more in control of the system.
BAM - The indicator dives, fish on! I pull straight back on the set and the rod bends - and then I freeze for just a moment. WHAT DO I DO WITH ALL THIS LINE?!?!?!?!?! I break from my initial shock and begin to strip the line in, but I need to take my eyes of the fish to do so, because I have no muscle memory trained for this task. Instead of playing the fish, I quickly develop tunnel vision on the line, which I am pulling back in large clumps ABOVE my right hand trigger finger which is tightly clinched against the rod. Luckily, I managed to drag the fish close to shore in the midst of my daze, and Dustin netted it easily.
Dustin patiently offered some feedback, and over the course of the next 45 minutes or so, I managed to pull in a half dozen nice Rainbows. Two of them ended up being delicious with butter!
One thing I found interesting was that all but one of these fish chose to bite the bare red hook! I believe this was because the fish were holding tight on the bottom due to strong current, and when something sufficiently worm-like drifted in, they were happy to see the twisting, bouncing hook as a squirming worm. More evidence to support "hone the zone" over "match the hatch". Get SOMETHING food like into the water level where the fish are holding, and don't worry about specific patterns!
Another thing I'd like to highlight is just how effective Dustin's experience and skill at reading water is. I put a lot of time into learning and improving my ability to read water, but he really takes it to the next level. While I was competently able to identify decent good target zones, Dustin took a look at the mess of currents caused by the joining of this creek with the Colorado, and was able to spot a seam of nearly motionless water. It was 5-10 feet long, but maybe 2 feet wide at best. Dropping the cast into the top of this flow resulted in a slow, creeping drift that floated along at a snail's pace. Once he pointed it out - It didn't take long to start catching fish. Where else would they be when the water was this fast?!?!
Naturally, I've since given some thought to how my short experience with western fly fishing compares to my Tenkara fishing. Here are a few thoughts and observations:
As mentioned early, I found the cast to be "bigger" than my typical Tenkara cast. I needed to keep my arm locked in place, which resulted in most of the action being located in my shoulder. There was no wrist movement at all. When casting Tenkara rods, the action primarily takes place from my elbow and beyond. Its a consistent wave of movement that travels from elbow, to wrist, to finger, to rod, to line, to fly. With the western rig, I felt I was moving the system and my arm as one solid unit.
When fishing Tenkara, my set is usually "up and back towards me". This is because I am often fishing terrain where the bank and vegetation restrict me from sideways movements. Dustin advised me to set "sideways and downstream" so that a null set doesn't snap back and hit me in the face, which it almost did several times. I am pretty sure I hit both him and Tim a few times!
One thing I liked was the ability to give the fish some line. The sound of the reel screaming as the fish bolted was a rush! That being said, I am pretty confident that despite the fish size and strong current, I probably could have landed fish under these conditions with an appropriate fixed line system.
The high stick nymphing style we used was very, very close to the dead drifting we do on Tenkara. For this style of fishing, I'd say the advantage goes to Tenkara, in that there is simply less equipment to manipulate. I'm not sold on the need for strike indicators. My normal setup of floating line with a longer tippet would have excelled in this situation, as leaving 4-6 inches of the line tip on the water serves the same purpose and adds no additional weight to the system.
Even though the main river was blown out, Dustin showed me some examples of how he approaches and positions his boat to fish spots along the bank. He usually parks his clients pretty close, about 15-30 ft away from target zones. I am convinced that with a robust fixed line rig, an angler could have a lot of success fishing from a boat on the Colorado. A Keiryu style rod fished with a fly would be ideal!
Finally, trying out a new style is a great way to see what your habits and trained responses are. When acting under stress or stimulus, our reflexes tend to jump straight to the motions and actions we are most familiar with. I ended up doing things ingrained in me by Tenkara fishing when faced with a new style, or just outright blanking out when I had nothing to reference. Two good sayings come to mind:
As much as I love Tenkara and fixed line fishing styles, I'll definitely continue to develop my "Western" fishing skills. I'm certain that the learning experience from both will improve them each in turn.
Special thanks to Tim and Julia, and Dustin and Dee. It was a great visit, and a sincere privilege to learn from an expert angler. If your ever out in the Glenwood Springs area - link up with Dustin for a great fishing experience!
Patience is a virtue? Perhaps. I rather like to believe that patience can be learned, cultivated and refined. For instance, I learned a great deal of patience as a ski instructor when I was routinely dealing with snotty kids and their less than involved parents who used our facilities as a daycare. But regardless of where we gain insight on theses "virtues" I find that patience also comes amongst a flood of other valuable and often unnoticed life lessons.
In preparing for this tour, my mind has been very preoccupied with finite details. Much of my planning surrounded the mechanics and schematics of scenarios that I could only imagine in a hypothetical sense. Being that this is my first time undertaking a solo wild-camping trip let alone biking across several countries, I haven't a clue of what to expect. So naturally, with my hyperanalytic mind, I did an absurd amount of research scouring blogs and reading trip reports from like-minded individuals. But there is no substitute for hands on experience. As I currently write this from within Logan International Airport--with already a few mishaps under the belt--I completely realize that planning can only get you so far. When a plan fails or inevitably changes we can only rely upon quick and ingenuitive thinking. But we stand to learn much more from rolling with punches and not forcing any preconcieved notions onto that paths that lay ahead of us. Really, when it comes down to it, all we have is now.
On the topic of forcefulness, I had a poignant lesson the other day that arose from a day fishing on my hometown lake. Though it's an isolated incident in my generally chaotic life, I found a valuable metaphor that could be applied to many of my undertakings for the upcoming summer.
After spending a calm, tepid afternoon fishing off our dock, I had racked an impressive amount of plump pumpkin-seed sunnies with absolute minimal effort. For a while, my cast to catch ratio was damn near 2:1. They would bite after as little as 10 seconds trolling my simple white fly through the sandy shallows. As Matt had mentioned to me, tenkara fishing for sunnies is a great way to familiarize yourself with the basics of technique and rigging. After I had my fill of catch and release for the day, I started the (seemingly) simple task of disassembling my gear. I learned quickly that this process isn't difficult, but requires mindfulness and a keen sense of being aware. Even though this was my fourth time using the telescoping rod, I managed to make a bonehead move and got two of the rod sections stuck within another. It all happened very quickly without much thought to detail. In the process of forcibly getting them unstuck, I had regrettably broken the third and fourth rod sections. I felt like a total idiot. Encounter resistance -> use brute force -> failure -> panic. So not zen, young grasshopper.
After sharing this with Matt with my tail between my legs, he assuaged my guilt by sharing that section breaks can happen to even seasoned tenkara pros. But these breaks occur primarily when the rod is not extended or collapsed properly.Queue newbie. His thorough run-down has now equipped me with the proper methodology for collapsing the rod to ensure longevity of this lightweight material.
Before extending the rod, it's best to start by first attaching your line to the lillian. I've found that this allows for a quicker rigging setup, but it also reduces the chance of damaging the thinnest rod section. After the line is attached, I begin extending each section from thinnest to widest, applying only minimal force when they come into contact. When collapsing the rod, it's best to do the opposite; working from thickest to thinnest. When doing this, it's critical to offer support to both sections you are working with. Holding a thumb and forefinger on both sections near the joint you are collapsing is definitely advisable. When you encounter resistance, rather than forcing the sections to move, applying a slight twisting action works very well to loosen the more stubborn joints.
I can't take credit for this technique as it was taught to me by Matt. But I found it very useful for preparing myself mentally as well. When we encounter resistance, our initial reaction may be to to use force. In my experience, this hasn't always worked so well. Alternatively, when we take a second to observe, be mindful and try a different approach, we stand to achieve much better results. Even if they weren't what we had originally sought out. Awesome to think I can get that type of lesson from a mindless mistake after a day of fishing.
In the last of week of May, the Badger stepped away from the land of cheese and spring creeks to explore Colorado fishing. Unfortunately, the majority of the water was blown out by snow melt and a recent string of stormy days just prior to the trip. Despite the swollen, muddy waters below, the creeks and ponds higher up in Grand Mesa National Forest were clear and fishable!
While we normally like to offer a more narrative trip report, we will shift gears this time and focus specifically on some different techniques that worked well. If your familiar with the Badger, you know that Killer Bug variants are among our favorite, most productive fly patterns. This trip was no different; Killer Bug variants tied on #12 barbless hooks proved to be versatile, and the only pattern I needed to catch Browns, Rainbows, Cut-throats, and Brookies exhibiting varied feeding behaviors.
1. Conventional wisdom states that if you have a fish actively feeding on the top, you should offer it a dry fly. Several times now, I've chosen to drift a KB through the feeding zone instead, and successfully drawn strikes. The more active the fish is, the more willing they seem to hit the KB regardless of whether they are feeding on something else. This supports the "hone the zone" concept - put something "food-like" into the correct zone and you'll catch fish, whether or not you have "matched the hatch".
2. While the "dead drift" is an effective primary technique for KBs, they also work exceptionally well when given action and worked across the top of the water. Un-weighted KBs can easily be stripped and twitched across the top, swung in the current, even fished static by holding the fly on the surface downstream from your casting position.
3. Color seems to be a factor. While I am not a big fan of constantly switching out flies, if a piece of obviously fishy water doesn't produce, I will shift to another KB color before moving on. In doing so, I've discovered that sometimes one can work a piece of water for 10-15 minutes with no strikes, and then switch colors and almost instantly start catching fish. Its this experience that drove me to carry KB variants in 3 colors, with a few variations in wire and bead head color. I use Olive yarn for the darkest, Oyster for the tan/grey, and Sun-glow for a brighter orange/red, finishing with red or copper wire, and just about any color bead head. Beginning the day, or on new water, I start with the middle color (Oyster) and adjust from there.
All and all it was a great trip! It was a bit disappointing to not have gotten more fishing in, but as they say - "there aint no sense in arguing with the weather". The most important take-away from the trip was that good techniques and general purpose patterns can be applied just about anywhere to catch fish. Practice the fundamentals, and develop a solid understanding of how the fish relate to your angling, and you are increasingly likely to see success!
Check out the video below for a look at the trip!
With only a week to go before he starts the trip across Scandinavia, Rob checks in with a post about his plans, and the equipment he has chosen to carry. It is easy to see how Tenkara fits the ultra-light, ultra portable requirements for bike travel!
For roughly a year now I’ve been planning a journey that should thoroughly test my grit and—if all goes according to plan—my psyche as well. I’ve got a respectable amount of experience in the realm of travel. But this voyage will be unlike any of my previous undertakings. This June, I will begin my pilgrimage-by-bicycle through the Scandinavian peninsula in the pursuit of a richer connection with the earth and all the magnificent creatures that fill it. This probably sounds like an airy, utopic abstract to most. But I assure you, my conviction for this voyage is focused and intense.
Living in an outdoor mecca like Boulder, Colorado has opened my eyes to many new prospects—but more than anything, it’s helped me to refine my vision. This town is a magnet to travelers, transients and adrenaline junkies of all kinds. There’s also a substantial population of booze-addled student zombies—myself included. But since graduating, I’ve been strapped with an overwhelming ambition to get outta Dodge. Don’t get me wrong; I am completely enamored with life in the mountains and have every intention of returning someday. However, the opportunity for travel is too ripe not to pick. This is perhaps one of the last times I will have an unencumbered summer at my disposal free of scholastic endeavors or any real-world responsibilities for that matter. Though, rather than spending my summer in perma-lounge mode, I am planning to make the most of it by learning through first-hand, utilitarian experience.
Initially, I started planning my trip as a way to reward myself for jumping through the institutionalized hoops of CU Boulder. It seems fairly common in my social circles that students—at some point during their college tenure—take the opportunity to expatriate and “find themselves” or “see the world”. These narratives of travel and discovery are certainly romantic. And I hope to find at least a shred of self-actualization whilst abroad. But I feel that the best way to reach these conclusions is to try things I never have before. Rather than using traditional modes of travel, I’ve elected to travel by bicycle, carrying all of my worldly possessions upon a CroMoly frame while staying at organic farms and wild-camping along the way. By moving slowly and bunking with stewards of the land, I hope to get fully saturated with the local culture, customs and wildlife. Furthermore, I’ll be using these destinations as an opportunity to learn various skills like beekeeping, adobe building, biodynamic farming, cheesemaking, hugelkultur food production and a whole bunch of other great earthy-crunchy stuff. So—without further rambling—here are the the bare bones of my upcoming adventure.
On May 31st, I will land in Bergen, Norway—the coastal metropolis of Hordaland. I’ll spend a day or two relaxing, adjusting to my locale and re-assembling my bike before heading out on my proposed route. The first leg of my journey will take me from Bergen all the way to Nyköping, Sweden; about 1,200 km straight east from start to finish. I call it the “first leg” because I plan to rest for a few weeks at a family-operated farm before continuing on to Bavaria—but more about that later.
For roughly the first five days of this stretch I’ll be pedalling to 1,360 meters above sea level. A steadily increasing climb through the mountains of the Hallingskarvet and Stølsheimen ranges. (Interesting tidbit: Stølsheimen is Norwegian for “Home of the Summer Farms” due to the strong agrarian heritage of this region.) After I reach the peaks of the mountainous interior, I’ll have a smooth-sailing descent back below the tree-line through rolling glades and nature preserves before I reach Oslo. From there, it’s only a quick jaunt to the Swedish border. The last half of this leg will likely be a bit more happy-go-lucky as much of Sweden’s terrain is flat. Though it won’t traverse mountain ranges, my push to the eastern coast will bring me through heavily-wooded forest and a smattering of lakes, streams and marshland. Long story short: navigating through the Scandinavian landscape will provide PLENTY of opportunities for fishing, camping and wilderness ambling.
Because of my stints in both Minnesota and Colorado I’m certainly familiar with flat, lake-riddled landscapes as well as craggy, snow-capped peaks. But navigating new terrain will always have unforeseen challenges. In an attempt to compensate for my general unfamiliarity and naivete, I’ve done the due diligence in researching the topography, terrain and wildlife of my route. Both Sweden and Norway are abundant with saltwater and freshwater fishing opportunities, though I’ll exclusively stick to the latter category. And with thousands of protected lakes, rivers and streams, the fish populations are similarly abundant. Because I’m staying in the lower latitudes, I may not have the best access to the sought-after Atlantic Salmon or Arctic Char—but hey, ya never know. Though there are plenty of other predatory fish I plan to come in contact with. In Norway, I’ll likely spend most of my time fishing the waterways for Brown Trout and Grayling. The high alpine lakes will also provide many holes to fish for Northern Pike and Bream. This will be good practice as in Sweden I’ll likely do more lake and pond fishing than moving water. Popular freshwater species of Sweden include Trout, Perch, Pike, Burbot, Grayling and Whitefish.
Whether or not you’re aware, Tenkara-style fishing offers numerous benefits. The lightweight, simplistic design of my Badger Tenkara rod makes it the perfect option for travel. But the most valuable asset in my opinion is it’s versatility. Without having to switch gear, I’ll be able to fish in a wide variety of different locales and conditions. Seamlessly transitioning from Trout in swift currents to Pike in weedy shallows will allow me a great deal of freedom. Familiarizing myself with this fishing quiver will definitely be fun!
A good friend of mine shared a valuable piece of insight as I was assembling my gear for this trip: “Within the realm of outdoor gear, you’ll only be able to choose two of the following attributes—being lightweight, being durable and being cheap. Choose carefully.” He himself is an experienced ultralight thru-hiker and certainly provided a wealth of knowledge on how to minimize and simplify my loadout. But this particular philosophy of his certainly rang true with my needs. I’ve always been rough on my equipment, regardless of how carefully scrupulous I am with preventative maintenance. Thus, I need my gear to be able to withstand routine and thorough beatings. Durability is priority #1 most of the ime. But in my case, I also need my gear to be lightweight. Without paying attention to this aspect, I could very easily be miserable on uphill climbs and long days on the saddle. Unfortunately—as evidenced by my friend’s advice—durable and lightweight often eliminates the option of being economical. Because of this, I rose to a new level of resourcefulness and creativity in assembling all of my gear...and I think I’ve just about figured it out. Here is rundown of my carefully-selected gear load-out for my upcoming voyage.
Tools and Repair
Aggregating, testing and organizing all of my gear has certainly been entertaining. But it’s also taught me the virtues and challenges of packing light and living simply. There is no luxury without consequence and no shortcuts without sacrifice. Packing up your life and putting it onto a bike is extremely humbling. But what is already painfully obvious is that you really don’t need much to be happy, let alone survive.
Well, for the first time this season Matt and I got to get out and fish in what most humans would consider comfortable conditions. We did have gusting winds over 20 MPH and bright sun to contend with, but that's still better than freezing I suppose.
We fished a lower section of one our current favorites, which I had not been on in a couple of years and I don't think Matt had ever fished. This creek is of the type Matt and I tend to favor: small, maybe 6-8 feet wide in most sections, but deep with pools waist deep or deeper. The water runs very clear but there is plentiful structure for the fish to find shelter. I fished this creek a fair amount before I started fly fishing with Tenkara, and I actually catch more fish on it with Tenkara than I did with "regular" fly fishing. You could argue that I am a more experienced fisherman now that I was then, but I think it has more to do with how well suited these types of creeks are for Tenkara. I snagged on my second cast, and as is often the case, started to question my competence as a fisherman. Matt hooked a nice fish on his second cast, which should have helped me feel better, but did not. I should know better to despair, though. Once I worked out the kinks, I caught a nice size fish and everything was right with the world. The fishing was good for both of us several medium size fish brought to hand. Matt caught the largest of the day, about 12 inches and fat. I know there are bigger fish in this creek, but catching your fill of medium size fish is always nice.
We were having luck fishing variations of beadheaded killer bugs. There was a sparse hatch of caddis flies, but not many surface feeders. One small surface feeder hit my killer bug the instant it hit the water. Not how it is supposed to happen, but I guess that fish just wanted to eat.
After fishing a nice stretch of the creek, we decide to try another creek. I guess you shouldn't leave fish to fish, but we have been wanting to fish the improved section of another nearby favorite in better conditions. When we arrived, we found nothing short of a blanket hatch of small, dark colored caddis flies. These locally are referred to as the "Mother's Day Caddis", as they usually hatch around that time (though typically well before Mother's day). I thought we were in for the best fishing of the season. Neither Matt nor I are really "match the hatch" fly fisherman, but it is hard to ignore such a massive hatch. I tied on an elk hair caddis of roughly the size of the bugs coming of the water. I took some time to observe the creek before fishing, and surprisingly there were very few surface feeding fish and the ones I did see looked to be pretty small. I worked the caddis pretty extensively, but did not have much to show for it other than a long distance release. Matt had similar results. I consulted my fly fishing mentor as to why there were so few fish feeding on the surface with such a dense hatch. Our conclusions were that: a) it is very possible that the larger fish were feeding on caddis puppae subsurface, which might not be apparent and b) sometimes it takes time for the fish to really key in on the hatch. I was hoping that such a dense hatch would lead to fish feeding recklessly on the surface, which was not the case. It was still pretty cool to witness.
In one bend, I saw something snake-like move under the water. I really wasn't sure what to make of it. When i caught up with Matt, he told me he saw several critters that looked eel-like in one of the runs he fished. He thought maybe they were lampreys. I took our nets and managed to net a few. They sure as heck looked like small lampreys, but I have never seen them in a trout stream. It certainly made me reconsider my plans to wet wade next time we were out. I ran this by my fly fishing mentor, too, and he told me that they are American Brook Lampreys. They make run up the creeks in the spring. He tells me that they are not parasitic during this time, but I'm still not sure I want to wet wade that creek any time soon. We were running out of time that day, but if had more time, I think we would have kept a few lampreys and tried our keiryu rods.
We finished up by fishing the deep bridge pool where Matt had an absolute monster break off a few weeks ago. No monsters were caught, but we managed to get some nice size fish on the line.
So, we have yet to get that "perfect condition" day so far this season, but we are still enjoying some good success and having a lot of fun and process. Please contact us if you are interested in our guide service. We would love to share these creeks with you!
You'll hear us say it again and again - Tenkara is a perfect compliment to any outdoor adventure. We are happy to announce that the Badger Tenkara Classic rod is about to take a long bike journey in the hands of our #bikefishing Adventure Correspondent - Rob Woodworth, who is bike-packing from Bergen, Norway to Stockholm, Sweden this Summer. We'll be featuring reports as he get ready for the trip, and then hits the road in June. In this installment, Rob says hello and tells us a little bit about his background.
Greetings fellow nomad! My name is Rob Woodworth and I believe the best way to move through life is to tread slowly, pack lightly and live simply. Guided by this philosophy, I’ve always been driven to explore what our green earth has to offer. In my experience, travel is the wisest investment one can make—especially when adventuring through the great outdoors. And though my journeys have taught me a wealth of valuable lessons, I’ve never been able to fully satiate my wanderlusting appetite.
A few of my expeditioning highlights include hiking the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, biking through the Austrian countryside and rafting with hippos and crocodiles on the Zambezi river. I feel extremely fortunate to have experienced such pinnacles in my travels, though, I’ve learned that much of my gratitude is owed to the journey and not the destination. It is my belief that we stand to learn much more from navigating the bumps in the road than we do arriving at any particular stopping place or designated end. Why stop exploring and evolving? My wandering habits are certainly a product of my environment—perhaps the greatest gift ever given to me. But aside from my zeal for travel, my family has also taught me to care for and value our planet.
My appreciation for the natural world was no doubt fostered at a very young age. Born in Minnesota, I was raised a child of the north. I spent my summers biking through marshland, poaching bridge-jumping spots on the surrounding lakes and fishing for sunnies off the end of our dock. The Land of 10,000 Lakes breeds a unique and obligatory admiration for water in its habitants. My fondest memories of home seem to always incorporate a water feature of some kind. Surely, anyone else that has been canoe-camping in the Boundary Waters, hiking on the North Shore or cruising on Lake Minnetonka during Independence Day has to feel the same way I do. My upbringing in Minnesota has no doubt taught me to respect and revere nature. But as I continued to adventure in my home state, I couldn’t help but think what else might be waiting for me in the farther reaches of our planet.
For the last 5 years, I’ve been living in Boulder, Colorado soaking up all the Rockies have to offer. Skiing and mountain biking are my preferred modes of travel, though I’ve also picked up few new hobbies along the way. With a massive network of public trails and more than 2,500 square miles of national forest just through the foothills, Boulder has shown me the undeniable majesty of mountain living. Sure, I’m a flatlander at heart. But I know that I belong in the mountains. Since moving here, I’ve: worked as a ski instructor, survived biblical forest fires and floods, written for Skiing Magazine, competed in a collegiate ski-racing circuit, camped above tree-line more times than necessary, racked more than 1,000 miles on bikes of all sorts, maintained a freebooting backcountry hut at 10,000 feet, found an appreciation for rock climbing, learned to properly cast a fly rod and developed a vice for accumulating—sometimes fabricating—outdoor gear. Almost forgot...I also found some time to get my BA in Communication at the University of Colorado. Needless to say, I’ve managed to keep myself busy since moving out west. My passion for adventure has only grown since then, but I (tragically) haven’t found much time for fishing or hunting the mountainous wildlife of Colorado—two pastimes near and dear to my Minnesota roots. But with the help of Badger Tenkara, I fully intend to change that.
Much of my fishing experience has been on the lake of my childhood home. No larger than 150 acres and only 16 feet at its deepest, Gleason Lake is by no means a premier destination for anglers. But it’s surprisingly well stocked for its unassuming appearance. With boat-launching privileges given only to lakeshore owners, healthy populations of Crappie, Bluegill, Northern Pike, Largemouth Bass and Walleye are well maintained by the DNR. Extremely low traffic and a long, narrow shape make for very calm conditions that allow easy transport by canoe or paddle-board, but I was perfectly content to cast for sunnies and catfish right off the dock. I’ve had the pleasure of ice fishing on the legendary and frigid Lake Mille Lacs in subzero temperatures with furious wind. Oddly enough, it’s a ritual I look forward to every winter I go home. Fresh Walleye is really a treat. Other than lake fishing, I haven’t had much other angling experience. A few choice experiences include spear-fishing in the Caribbean and a handful of times fly fishing, but never without borrowing someone else's gear. In all honesty, I am not a truly seasoned fishermen—especially in regards to rivers and streams. I find the quiver of necessary gear a little intimidating and feel like the know-how can be esoteric at times. This is exactly why I am drawn to Tenkara style fishing. With minimalist design and fewer moving parts to complicate things, I believe that Tenkara will beautifully complement my simple, lightweight methods of outdoor travel. Furthermore, the emphasis on technique, not equipment, is an ideal that I can stand behind. I’m thrilled that I have the opportunity to get back into fishing with guidance from Badger Tenkara. It’s about time that I get my feet wet again.
- Rob Woodworth
Rob is going to have great opportunities to fish a huge variety of water and species as he travels across Scandinavia. Keep checking in to see how the trip unfolds!