It’s a thin red line that outdoor writers, and fishing report posters, walk when deciding how much info to give away. There’s all sorts of issues involved with anyone sharing a spot with the rest of the world. The main one that usually prevents any excess, is that they either don’t want to share the spot, or they don’t think it could handle the possible traffic that could result from their words.
Everyone bitches when they see that the latest issue of the big name fly fishing magazine has their home waters’ name on the cover. They not only dread the crowds it may bring, but also what the crowds might take- fish, peace, and quiet.
A blessing in disguise.
The crowds may come, but the most overlooked thing that comes with the publicity- is the publicity. You’ve heard of the Au Sable River in northern Michigan, right?
Step into my time machine…
Back in the day, the guys who made it famous had ulterior motives. One, they loved the river, and wanted to protect it. Two, they wanted to protect what was north of it from the guys coming up from down state.
It’s not that it wasn’t always a great fishery, but the hoopla it got was somewhat synthetic. Not only did it work out for the people hiding what was north of it, if worked out for the Au Sable. The attention brought, and is still bringing, continuous habitat improvement. The attention brought, and is still bringing, a (big)voice to fight for it. The attention brought, and is still bringing, what many would call the best trout fishery east of the Mississippi!
The hoopla also worked because, for the most part, people coming up from downstate didn’t bother finding out what was to the north. Why head further up I-75 when the best river, and burger, in the state is in Grayling?
What’s north of Grayling? Four Gems, east to west: the Black River, the Pigeon River, the Sturgeon River, and the Jordan River. Which sparkles most, I couldn’t say. They’re all extraordinary in their own special ways.
Did I just say that? Why would I mention those streams on this site, exposing them to quazillions of fly fisherman? Especially after criticizing others for doing the same thing.
Since moving to New York from a small Michigan town on the 45th parallel, I’ve anxiously awaited returning to my old stomping grounds. Imagine my dismay when I finally made it back, and one of them was dead.
A discharge from a private dam on the Pigeon River near Vanderbilt was responsible for a potentially significant fish kill downstream, Department of Natural Resources fisheries officials said today.
The discharge, which began Sunday night, flushed sediment from above the dam that is located on the property of Song of the Morning Ranch near Sturgeon Valley Road in Otsego County. The fish were killed either by the sediment or thermal shock, said DNR fisheries biologist Dave Borgeson.
Fish of numerous species, including brown trout up to 19 inches, were found dead, Borgeson said. Electro-fishing by DNR personnel failed to produce enough live fish to make a population assessment in the water for about two miles downstream from the dam.
“We will be going farther downstream Thursday to see how far the fish kill extends,” Borgeson said. “During our initial sampling we are not finding the numbers of trout we knew were there prior to the incident. These populations fluctuate, but they are never this low.”
Borgeson added there’s a stretch of the river that is almost devoid of trout.
A major fish kill involving the same dam occurred in July 1984, when tons of silt swept down the river after the dam gates were opened for repairs.
Since that time, repeated requests by the DNR that the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission regulate the dam have been denied by the federal agency.
Officials from the Department of Environmental Quality’s dam safety division also are investigating the incident.
More Monday…