tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83268013564679114352024-02-18T18:01:35.714-05:00Traveling AnglerA blog about steelhead - steelhead alley - Lake Erie steelhead - float fishing - centerpin - how to fish for steelhead - travel - fishing gear - steelhead tactics - Great Lakes steelheadGreghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.comBlogger197125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-13321865038141451312022-02-19T08:36:00.001-05:002022-02-19T08:40:10.231-05:00The Savvy Steelheader<br /><div><div aria-label=" Listen" class="gycwpf D5gqpe" data-animation-enabled="true" data-audio-play-tts="false" data-language-code="" data-tts-string="" data-uti="1" data-ved="2ahUKEwiIi5_BgoD1AhWFj4kEHRVhAZQQlfQBegQIEhAG" jsaction="rcuQ6b:npT2md;DiIjNc;xLXIyb:DGzHQ" jscontroller="UYJibd" role="button" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); cursor: pointer; float: left; font-family: arial, sans-serif; margin: -6px 6px -6px -6px; outline: 0px; padding: 6px; position: relative;" tabindex="0"><div class="brWULd" style="height: 36px; margin: -4px; padding: 4px; width: 36px;"><div class="KnZOyc" jsname="FJYLhd" style="background-color: #303134; border-bottom-left-radius: 50%; border-bottom-right-radius: 50%; border-top-left-radius: 50%; border-top-right-radius: 50%; border: 1px solid rgb(174, 203, 250); height: 34px; opacity: 0; position: absolute; width: 34px;"></div><div class="pkt1Wd fjnQw" style="background-image: url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHdpZHRoPSIyMiIgaGVpZ2h0PSIyMiIgdmlld2JveD0iMCAwIDIyIDIyIj4KICA8cG9seWdvbiBmaWxsPSIjOEFCNEY4IiBwb2ludHM9IjIuNzUgOC4yNSAyLjc1IDEzLjc1IDYuNDE3IDEzLjc1IDExIDE4LjMzMyAxMSAzLjY2NyA2LjQxNyA4LjI1IiAvPgo8L3N2Zz4K"); height: 22px; margin: 7px; position: absolute; width: 22px;"></div><div class="pkt1Wd nIW5Sd" jsname="m1xdOb" style="background-image: url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,PHN2ZyB4bWxucz0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMjAwMC9zdmciIHdpZHRoPSIyMiIgaGVpZ2h0PSIyMiIgdmlld2JveD0iMCAwIDIyIDIyIj4KICA8cGF0aCBkPSJNMTUuMTI1LDExIEMxNS4xMjUsOS4zNzc1IDE0LjE5LDcuOTg0MTY2NjcgMTIuODMzMzMzMyw3LjMwNTgzMzMzIEwxMi44MzMzMzMzLDE0LjY4NSBDMTQuMTksMTQuMDE1ODMzMyAxNS4xMjUsMTIuNjIyNSAxNS4xMjUsMTEgWiIgZmlsbD0iIzhBQjRGOCIgZmlsbC1ydWxlPSJldmVub2RkIiAvPgo8L3N2Zz4K"); height: 22px; margin: 7px; position: absolute; width: 22px;"></div><div class="pkt1Wd byDyWd" jsname="DFrD7b" style="background-image: url("data:image/svg+xml;base64,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"); height: 22px; margin: 7px; position: absolute; width: 22px;"></div></div></div><div class="WI9k4c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); display: table; word-break: break-word;"><div class="jY7QFf" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; min-height: 36px;"><div class="c8d6zd DgZBFd ya2TWb" style="font-size: 28px; line-height: 36px; margin-top: -6px; vertical-align: top;"><span data-dobid="hdw"><span style="font-family: georgia;">sav·vy</span></span></div></div><div class="S23sjd" style="padding-top: 8px;"><span class="LTKOO" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">/ˈsavē/</span></span></div><div aria-hidden="true" class="K6GhFd" data-is-bilingual="false" jsaction="BtuVOb:V46pce" jscontroller="jhGntf" style="max-height: 0px; opacity: 0; pointer-events: none; transition-duration: 0.3s, 0.3s; transition-property: max-height, opacity; transition: max-height 0.3s, opacity 0.3s;"><div class="b8aKlc" style="padding: 8px 0px 6px;"><div class="S5TwIf" style="border-bottom-left-radius: 6px; border-bottom-right-radius: 6px; border-top-left-radius: 6px; border-top-right-radius: 6px; box-shadow: rgb(60, 64, 67) 0px 0px 0px 1px inset; display: inline-block; outline: 0px; overflow: hidden; padding-right: 12px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: top;"><span style="color: black; font-family: georgia;"><a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=how+to+pronounce+savvy&stick=H4sIAAAAAAAAAOMIfcRozi3w8sc9YSm9SWtOXmPU4OINKMrPK81LzkwsyczPExLkYglJLcoV4pRi52ItTiwrq7RiUWJKzeNZxCqWkV-uUJKvUADUkA_UkaoAlgcAqwbEolUAAAA&pron_lang=en&pron_country=us&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiIi5_BgoD1AhWFj4kEHRVhAZQQ3eEDegQIEhAH" style="outline: 0px; text-decoration: none;" tabindex="-1"><g-img class="FamOtd" style="display: inline-block; height: 32px; vertical-align: middle;"><img alt="" class="rISBZc zr758c M4dUYb" data-atf="1" data-frt="0" height="32" id="dimg_41" src="data:image/svg+xml;base64,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" style="border: 0px; display: block; filter: none; position: relative;" width="32" /></g-img><span class="fe69if" style="margin-left: 10px; vertical-align: middle;">Learn to pronounce</span></a></span></div></div></div></div><div class="vmod"><div class="vmod" data-topic="" jsname="r5Nvmf"><div class="lW8rQd" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); display: flex;"><div class="pgRvse YrbPuc vdBwhd" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px; min-height: 20px; padding-top: 4px;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">noun</span></i></div><div aria-hidden="true" class="xpdxpnd" data-mh="-1" jsname="jUIvqc" style="max-height: 0px; overflow: hidden;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="kqEaA" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"></span><span class="kqEaA z8gr9e" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22px;"><b></b></span></span></div></div><ol class="eQJLDd" style="display: flex; flex-direction: column; margin: 0px; padding: 0px 0px 0px 20px;"><li jsname="gskXhf" style="list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><div class="vmod"><div class="thODed" style="padding-top: 8px;"><div class="LTKOO sY7ric" data-topic="" jsname="cJAsRb" style="line-height: 16px;"><div style="margin-left: 20px;"><div class="LTKOO sY7ric" style="line-height: 16px;"><div data-dobid="dfn" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); display: inline; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">shrewdness and practical knowledge; the ability to make good judgments.</span></div><div class="vmod"><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">"the financiers lacked the necessary political savvy"</span></div><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">Shrewd and practical knowledge? Yes, I have plenty of that. The ability to make good judgements? Well, the jury is still out on that as I've made some questionable decisions over the years. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">After 20 years on the Alley, I can say </span><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">confidently that I'm a savvy steelheader. From knowing the habits of my quarry, the pulse of the fishery, and my attention to detail. I can pretty well dial in where my best chance of getting fish. But from time to time albeit rarely, I've done the walk of shame after getting collared with a skunk around my neck. These fish can still school the best of the best. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">It's the week leading to Christmas and I know that high school and college kids are off. Some anglers I know have took the week off as well. The weather has been unseasonably warm. That's a recipe for crowded conditions. I've heard through the grapevine that the rivers have been a busy place all week. I'm planning on fishing Friday which happens to be Christmas Eve and everybody pretty well has that day off.</span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I've made my decision to fish the upper stretches of the Grand River days in advance. Early in the week, I labored in my kitchen mixing up a cure for my salmon skein and loose eggs. On the counter I have several skiens and eggs on paper towels. Over the years, I've tweaked my cure recipe of Borax, sugar, salt, and added scents that would make Colonel Sanders proud. We'll see if my latest batch turned out to be a success so I wrote down the measurements and store it in the vault. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">Christmas Eve and I'm on the road. The interstate is a dead place and in a few hours many Clevelanders will be racing to the malls to get last minute gifts. Just as I'm savvy when it comes to fishing, I'm the same when it comes to shopping. I avoid the malls like the plague even before Covid hit. Why deal with the traffic? Aimlessly driving around for a parking shop and only finding out that size you need isn't in stock. Having some pimpled face kid pushing more clothes for you to buy. Shopping was done online weeks ago. Done in the comfort of my place, drinking a beer and shopping in peace and quiet. All the gifts await me when I get home later today.</span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I get to the upper section of the river and I'm the first person in the lot. As I dress, I hear two foxes in the distance calling each other in the dark. One is across the river high above the cliff and the other is the woods farther downstream. I can see the first glimpse of light to the east. I have a good feeling that I'll have a stretch to myself.</span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I start my walk along the trail and today will be a warm day. Sadly there will be no snow this Christmas. As a matter of fact, we've barely had any snow so far and that's very unusual for the Alley as it's in the heart of the snowbelt. I reach the crossing point of the river and start wading across. I make it across and don't even bother fishing the first spot. I continue along the river and disappear into the woods. The trail snakes throught the woods and I veer off it towards the beginning the cliffs. This is where I'm going to fish. I promised my girlfriend that I would only fish until noon. It will take almost an hour to get home and pack and drive to her house south of Cleveland. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I've been fishing the streams along Steelhead Alley for nearly 20 years, ever since I moved here from Western Canada in 1998. Back then I wasn't as savvy I was today. I fished back in Canada, but steelhead wasn't my quarry. The nearest steelhead river from my home town of Sudbury, Ontario was the St. Mary's River which was 195 miles to the west. I was content to the fish the local lakes and streams for pike, walleye, and brook trout. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">But, I quickly caught the steelhead bug after hearing stories of the abundant numbers of fish in the local streams. Over the years, I learned from trail and error, voraciously reading books and articles about Lake Erie steelhead, and studying maps of the rivers. I fished as much as possible and hiked countless miles along the Rocky, Chagrin, Vermilion, Conneaut, and Grand. 23 years later, I have a little more gray in my hair, wrinkles around my eyes, and I can tell nearly every hole, pool, and cut from Harperfield dam all the way down to the Fairport Harbor. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">From my starting point I look up river and I can see 2 anglers fishing the first spot. I don't think they'll venture down where at I'm this morning. The number of people fishing for steelhead has exploded over the years, much to the chagrin of the veterans who reminisce about the good ole days of rarely seeing other anglers. I don't have pity on those who complain about the crowds and are unwilling to venture past the first pool or riffle. Others have complained that social media has ruined the fishery. I have mixed feelings on that one, because without social media the rivers would still be crowded due to word of mouth and plus there's over 2 million people living around and along Steelhead Alley. But, I'm not the one to plaster my outings on Facebook and I'm very tight lipped on who I share my trips with. The best steelheaders I know can keep their egos in checks. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I settle in and the river is flowing lazily. The hemlocks and icicles along the cliffs give off a festive vibe. But it's the quiet that I enjoy the most. There's times when I enjoy fishing with the guys, but most of the time I prefer to go solo. Today is one of those of days. </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">Somewhere in the murky depths, there's steelhead hugging the bottom. I watch the speed of the bubbles. From knowledge, I have a good idea where the shale ledges gradually fall off. Where the bubbles line is the slowest is where I want to target. Since the flow is slower and the water is colder, I want to use a fairly thin float. I reach into my side pack and it's bursting at the seams with boxes, jars of sacs, and floats. The savvy steelheader has a complete arsenal of tackle. I have jigs, beads, soft baits, and of course sacs. Anything to give me an edge. </span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">But, I mostly use sacs and I put on a white one. I'm curious to see how this latest batch of cured eggs will work. This batch I used brown sugar instead of white and I have the line set to 4' deep and I gently cast half way out. I mend the line and move it in more to get it into the zone. I work the front section along the cliffs and I'm constantly making adjustments. I chuck the white sac for a pink one and I'll continue the process until I get a take. So far white, pink, and red haven't worked. So grab a chartreuse one and I know that color often works well in colder water. The bright hue will often shake a steelhead out his winter stupor. I cast out and 20' downstream I see the float pop and eventually go under. I set the hook and I feel the rod throb. Eventhough the water temperature is in the mid 30s, the fish rips off across the river. The fight is fairly quick and I steer the fish along the rocks. It's a male in his spawning colors. The dark charcoal hues mixed with reds along his body and rosy cheeks. He's very stout and athletic looking. After the spring spawn, he'll be a former shell of himself. Unfortunately, I lost my hemostats, so I have to use my fingers which isn't fun because of the fishes needle sharp teeth. Hope there's a new pair of hemostats tomorrow morning. I gently push the fish out and it bolts back into the depths. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I've dialed in where exactly the fish are and it' the classic winter holding spots. Working along the edges of the currents and towards the tail end. It's a mixed bag of males and females, all of them on the large size. For the past few years, the division of wildlife has been stocking the Chambers Creek and Ganaraska </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">strain from Wisconsin. Before that it was the Manistee strain from Michigan. I've noticed that the latest strain seems to head up river a lot sooner than the previous strains. From my journals I've noted catching steelhead on the upper </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">stretches as early as October. The mindset of many steelheaders is to fish low early in the season and go high in the spring. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I've moved farther down and here the river moves a little faster. Here I can get relief from the cold water as I'm standing on the bank. During the warmer months, the sedges can be taller than 3'. There's no trees to hamper my casting. I continue to pick off fish at the tail out. I look at the time and it's 10:30, I have another hour and half. I'm almost at the end of the cliffs before the river makes a 90 degree angle and flows down to another set of cliffs. This last spot was great years ago, but now it rarely holds fish because of changes to the bottom. This is life on the Alley as many spots come and go. The constant erosion of banks and floods move gravel, clay, and trees. It's a constant relearning that will never end. </span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">As expected I don't get a take and I start heading back upstream. The walk is fairly easy as in past years I would be huffing and puffing through a couple feet of snow. As I come out of the woods I see two anglers fishing the flat that I past up this morning. It's a decent spot, but it depends on the flow and today it wouldn't be ideal. The other spot above that is vacant and I decide to give it a shot. The other two anglers are gone and who knows if they were savvy and the bite was off or just a couple of greenhorns who didn't know where the fish are. I give myself 20 minutes to fish and I manage to catch 3 fish in that time. I can't complain about the outing as I got into double digits.</span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">When I first started, I rarely got into double digits. I was lucky to catch to couple fish here and there. Most of the time I would go home skunked. But I continue to plug away learning from mistakes and picking the brains of the old timers. I credit a lot of that to Don Mathews a long time Steelhead Alley guide that I meet on the Elk twenty years ago. He was a wealth of information and was a mentor. Today, Don lives and guides in Florida after he retired from GM several years ago, but he stills guides along the Alley during the spring. From time to time I run into his long time partner Jeff who still guides on the eastern streams. </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">However, it's my attention to detail that I credit to my success today. </span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);">I pull out of the parking lot and see about 6 anglers fishing at the base of the new dam. The dam is lower, but it's still too high for fish to make it over. I head up the hill and it's a short drive to I-90. On the way back I cross over the Chagrin River and I can see people lined up along the river down to the old dam. The skies are bright and you ask for a nicer </span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">day. I'll be off next week and most likely head back to the Grand. </span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;"><br /></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); font-family: georgia;">I hope I do get those hemostats because my finger and thumb are a mess. </span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198);"><br /></span></span></div><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); color: #9aa0a6; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); color: #9aa0a6; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"><br /></div><div class="ubHt5c" style="caret-color: rgb(189, 193, 198); color: #9aa0a6; font-family: arial, sans-serif;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></li></ol></div></div></div>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-10356880036280109962021-08-07T12:46:00.004-04:002023-01-15T09:16:59.142-05:00Spring Steelhead and The Heatwave<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FoxWbPlnOVsj3BUX3b4J2y_sOOOPfoidvsD_sqXxr8On_3UkMxCXb1CQz2ZM8WTRzYAgvlx78muodN2c_U3UsuDuXgGIioWYS6shZtz8sjm2kU4MdM8giyFceYGrQ8Y7VsCgbE7EtRlh/s1024/heatwave-in-karachi.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_FoxWbPlnOVsj3BUX3b4J2y_sOOOPfoidvsD_sqXxr8On_3UkMxCXb1CQz2ZM8WTRzYAgvlx78muodN2c_U3UsuDuXgGIioWYS6shZtz8sjm2kU4MdM8giyFceYGrQ8Y7VsCgbE7EtRlh/w447-h371/heatwave-in-karachi.jpg" width="447" /></a></div><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">April showers bring the dog days of August huh? This happens from time to time here on the Alley during the spring, the extreme swings in temperature. Just when we're ready to pack away the winter gear, Mother Nature throw us a curveball. A perfect example of that was on April Fool's Day. We recieved snow and temperatures in the 20s and the following week we're experiencing weather that commonly happens in August. This wreaks havoc on steelhead as the stream temperatures soar into the 60s and the fish hit the gravel in huge numbers. The fair-weather anglers stormed out of their houses and headed for the nearest section of gravel. I on the other hand often go to the sidelines and wait for cooler weather to come back. </span></p><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">But Mother Nature took another look at the calender and corrected herself. The weather came to normal and I resumed fishing. Due to the snow, we finally had some runoff to elevate the streams as it's been a bone dry spring. Time to get off the sidelines and enter the game. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">While the majority of anglers in the spring take adavantage of spawning fish, I target fish that finished spawning. Post spawn fish are messed up. They look like they went 10 rounds and it shows. Their bodies sport some nasty wounds. I've caught males with torn out eyes and broken jaws. The females have it just as worse, with festering wounds and practically worn out caudal fins. You would think they couldn't muster the energy to pick off a dead minnow, but instead they still possess that vigor and athleticism that they're know for. It would be like Carl Lewis running 100 yards in a little over 10 seconds with two banged up knees and missing eyeball. That's why I think steelhead are freaks of nature. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">After expending all of that energy on spawning, steelhead's appetites are voracious. To rest and recuperate, they tend to drop back and seek the slower moving pools and holes. These are places that spring time anglers often pass up. There's been plenty of times when I've fished these areas and I'm lucky to see one or two anglers. I leave the combat fishing to the novices and the clueless. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Saturday was spent bouncing along the Grand River fishing a variety of water. The fishing was decent but I suspected that the majority of fish where still spawning. It was early afternoon and the morning crowd had thinned out. Some did well and a lot went home with a skunk around their collar. I drove up stream and checked out one spot that I haven't fished in a while. It was a section below a feeder creek that entered the main river. Here the river flows faster and it's a series of riffles and runs. I scan the river and I see anglers spread out and all of them are fishing the skinny water. I continue to scan and I see one place that's ripe for the picking. There's two fishermen working the gravel above and right below is a run that is narrow and littered with lumber. I crossed over and exchanged greetings with the other anglers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Due to the lumber, there's no way to effectively fish it with a fly rod. The run is probably 5' wide and there's trees piled up along the bank. It's not very long, probably 20' and eventually tails out. It may or may not hold a lot of fish. The feeder creek above is low and gin clear and most of those fish have probably retreated to the river. When fishing for drop backs, I go heavy duty. That means I use a 10 tippet and a large hook. These fish often go berserk and with lumber close by, they go into to it. I toss the float out and feather it. Halfway down it gets sucked under and the water surface explodes. I briefly see a large fish and the hook gets tossed. There's life in there. I put on another sac and repeat the process. A little farther down right at the tailout the float goes and I set the hook. A smaller fish leaps from the water and I quickly haul it in. It's a small gnarly male that was probably resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to get any action with the hen and most likley would have been murdered by the dominant male. I continued to fish the run and I quickly realized that there was a shit load of fish in that tiny run. I continued to yank out fish and the two guys above were astonished. When it was all said and done I caught over 10 fish and probably lost just as many. I shuffled down worked some other sections that vacated and continue to pick off fish. I called it a day because I exhausted my three jars of sacs. I'll probably venture out tomorrow because it's Easter Sunday and make it a full day event, because the window is starting to close. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">It turns out be the right call, because the following week the hotter temperatures came back and by now the rivers were all low and clear. There's probably a couple more weeks and that's usually it. The next rain might bring in some late to the party stragglers, but by then I'm permanently on the sidelines until fall</span></p>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-48252411369205718022021-07-05T15:31:00.023-04:002021-08-07T12:50:21.178-04:00Chasing WaterfallsPhotography is my latest hobby and it's quickly become a passion of mine. For years, my girlfriend and close friends have told me that I have an eye for photography. I started off with a beginner camera and bought a lens for landscape photography. However, I realized that the camera I had limited me going further with my photography. This year, I upgraded to a fairly expensive model and bought two landscape lens. One genre that I like is landscape and nature. One my favorite landscape subject are waterfalls. There's plenty around my area and from my steelheading trips, I know quite a few feeder creeks that run into the main rivers. Deep in those ravines and gorges are some waterfalls, while not high or massive in flow, they are unique and beautiful in their own way.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qfz8IopZ2GPBpocDmDDGU6hYF3fQrRh2KwYxK5RpM36G9JLowV0oivqbFsN1OjDRhT5aS_Y_Cz6FuqE1jfmO5_CsX-Gx3DbXztdrJDfaTGryihP-gtpjn38MNcqcQdBHaHW7yUY98WKJ/s2048/_DSC0335.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1540" data-original-width="2048" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2qfz8IopZ2GPBpocDmDDGU6hYF3fQrRh2KwYxK5RpM36G9JLowV0oivqbFsN1OjDRhT5aS_Y_Cz6FuqE1jfmO5_CsX-Gx3DbXztdrJDfaTGryihP-gtpjn38MNcqcQdBHaHW7yUY98WKJ/w640-h482/_DSC0335.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Hell's Hollow</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp4rodPodLczyv43vJ7NHd4yDAoGV0bbGPQrnAqTuzE_buaf6vZU3Epiod3__aUqFzgc6xaoXYivVOUNiRl7MrlyTXFzfEwUMCZT-QaLE9is4cXwmntgcefzU_zGKEFfrDUOPG1dtO1df/s2048/_DSC0371.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqp4rodPodLczyv43vJ7NHd4yDAoGV0bbGPQrnAqTuzE_buaf6vZU3Epiod3__aUqFzgc6xaoXYivVOUNiRl7MrlyTXFzfEwUMCZT-QaLE9is4cXwmntgcefzU_zGKEFfrDUOPG1dtO1df/w640-h426/_DSC0371.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Berea Falls</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaCKGHaeIeJ_fTikcLiP0CTx3ZI12i-g2IIyXTga_AMyyWKq8K5-b8F2naEOpUuGxUfiWGzOzlqqh1ojvqkfFWJ7ujsoeMmI9tTfgvrs0wMjbXDrjP8ynWGCnR35j0rqSqyX4dFsK1p0I/s2048/_DSC0477.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1391" data-original-width="2048" height="434" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaCKGHaeIeJ_fTikcLiP0CTx3ZI12i-g2IIyXTga_AMyyWKq8K5-b8F2naEOpUuGxUfiWGzOzlqqh1ojvqkfFWJ7ujsoeMmI9tTfgvrs0wMjbXDrjP8ynWGCnR35j0rqSqyX4dFsK1p0I/w640-h434/_DSC0477.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Sulphur Springs Creek</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6ij9NPmdkeVabB3KbnaA-LlyEA2jXoVupL0TFksn5FqlKTV_Cb2p75mHS4yWvWMple6EWMUCd5AplL5rx1vEchDz-wVVEAECxnUkEq78WuMfVoFijYvGSzzoWwna3wK-3nPXe7A4cO4j/s2048/_DSC0650.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1523" data-original-width="2048" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ6ij9NPmdkeVabB3KbnaA-LlyEA2jXoVupL0TFksn5FqlKTV_Cb2p75mHS4yWvWMple6EWMUCd5AplL5rx1vEchDz-wVVEAECxnUkEq78WuMfVoFijYvGSzzoWwna3wK-3nPXe7A4cO4j/w640-h476/_DSC0650.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Bridal Veil Falls</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrxcY2E-LCVjXo2Kf9gFSsSkUw5ilq1u5oCqtGKW4KMzvtZTn27rIWm6OJqG99aBCNlM-6s235OYhKQ1YGyvhhOB7qm1cTSIDK_ysuS23lOMyqn7M_yawcsOCTV71ifWYDN2TiuUqCXDe/s2048/_DSC0672.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1625" data-original-width="2048" height="508" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwrxcY2E-LCVjXo2Kf9gFSsSkUw5ilq1u5oCqtGKW4KMzvtZTn27rIWm6OJqG99aBCNlM-6s235OYhKQ1YGyvhhOB7qm1cTSIDK_ysuS23lOMyqn7M_yawcsOCTV71ifWYDN2TiuUqCXDe/w640-h508/_DSC0672.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Brandywine Falls</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PKLBBlgRReH_YPIP6A8wB8wWItP6jwfZZG_lD-BFOX6lk-U4t6u_uX__WpqZ5EU3B2IsE9rlsqYGSXqPxEqWUatlvVuo7bn7K8t-6uxvS9QEQ52wouP8Vq35IukDFpSC9froclUiaCgc/s2048/_DSC0740.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1367" data-original-width="2048" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PKLBBlgRReH_YPIP6A8wB8wWItP6jwfZZG_lD-BFOX6lk-U4t6u_uX__WpqZ5EU3B2IsE9rlsqYGSXqPxEqWUatlvVuo7bn7K8t-6uxvS9QEQ52wouP8Vq35IukDFpSC9froclUiaCgc/w640-h428/_DSC0740.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Griswold Creek</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek9fgR2M2PS2cJwYXjNCqwA5D4_9FG_FnIP1tUJUBEWz0rrFdFJm1FLgSzLiqn0zuBo4Q2ifaQFEM2fM-tsHa-tq8QsRO0RjCup5EgmX_LGUx_-JnXzHOT7TQzq761RCVBD3LGCciIFVi/s2048/_DSC1190.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiek9fgR2M2PS2cJwYXjNCqwA5D4_9FG_FnIP1tUJUBEWz0rrFdFJm1FLgSzLiqn0zuBo4Q2ifaQFEM2fM-tsHa-tq8QsRO0RjCup5EgmX_LGUx_-JnXzHOT7TQzq761RCVBD3LGCciIFVi/w640-h426/_DSC1190.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Twin Sister Falls</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUTHsNv6ZlDbC5LOx8c2CBWeqhwFyjqkfDmkgNsnuKgsjB_VnUSXGFlpFmFXzetzfruVwQz-qPziiqrmMLVLTjudkFP2LI6JqCJGMOw92m_fv0ps3qx1WraSbkn07JdJxD3m3KOklmtsa/s2048/_DSC1334.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUTHsNv6ZlDbC5LOx8c2CBWeqhwFyjqkfDmkgNsnuKgsjB_VnUSXGFlpFmFXzetzfruVwQz-qPziiqrmMLVLTjudkFP2LI6JqCJGMOw92m_fv0ps3qx1WraSbkn07JdJxD3m3KOklmtsa/w640-h426/_DSC1334.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Griswold Creek</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp0sbeQ1TC4yEKICkoe25_d5PL3GQXnwxRuaO7DmUMYDoFclqWQJu76esBF-Mjp65awLnRvosJ2tnID-QPVjW6bDRA0WqFMBhI4_iAi6GRP0SKLfmdni8jUR2gdg4-RuWFd3Q_53sDGw1/s2048/_DSC0349.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1435" data-original-width="2048" height="448" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGp0sbeQ1TC4yEKICkoe25_d5PL3GQXnwxRuaO7DmUMYDoFclqWQJu76esBF-Mjp65awLnRvosJ2tnID-QPVjW6bDRA0WqFMBhI4_iAi6GRP0SKLfmdni8jUR2gdg4-RuWFd3Q_53sDGw1/w640-h448/_DSC0349.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Hell's Hollow<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zrgyob6rA1S0wtkQdt5j1fv97R32GaugS38zG4NAydPILc9m8AXnRrAUjSXydxfWojHpS1VEETSXDr987EIwnxjhrs4xPsYGWKJ07RNkfda8H97V2APLydU9XUSCb3ODnBSPwGWsJE0p/s2048/DSC05074-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2zrgyob6rA1S0wtkQdt5j1fv97R32GaugS38zG4NAydPILc9m8AXnRrAUjSXydxfWojHpS1VEETSXDr987EIwnxjhrs4xPsYGWKJ07RNkfda8H97V2APLydU9XUSCb3ODnBSPwGWsJE0p/w640-h426/DSC05074-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Buttermilk Falls</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQGkFIPl6EI9I-4U77sU8CYN5GhwyN2Gw07NtzCJ4tH2coRBeD6ZWN-GwiiNHYXgi-NEP3NHt7afKuXZVYZv1S5diUmU3_ahMrmI5e2RoWrWCHHZbndaSbJ983_O9GpiuUSQZhRLzsqGl/s2048/_DSC1363.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXQGkFIPl6EI9I-4U77sU8CYN5GhwyN2Gw07NtzCJ4tH2coRBeD6ZWN-GwiiNHYXgi-NEP3NHt7afKuXZVYZv1S5diUmU3_ahMrmI5e2RoWrWCHHZbndaSbJ983_O9GpiuUSQZhRLzsqGl/w640-h426/_DSC1363.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Griswold Creek</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-89017954163531390902021-01-02T10:03:00.016-05:002023-01-15T09:17:57.009-05:00Paper Tiger<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBwPEIP-GsOirfILpCZtgj-9-GbMPIkQuaYi0FNfvGtLiZx0J_KTAOF5cmUgmvx-Wz_8TT6I81Jf3KvcNY5goqyajnhvKL_XJiYiNmjM2lThVvOh4gXOId_sU2eHl9PTi3TbsADE9Rt5p/s1920/dabo-swinney_1477613546075_6655064_ver1.0.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1078" data-original-width="1920" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBwPEIP-GsOirfILpCZtgj-9-GbMPIkQuaYi0FNfvGtLiZx0J_KTAOF5cmUgmvx-Wz_8TT6I81Jf3KvcNY5goqyajnhvKL_XJiYiNmjM2lThVvOh4gXOId_sU2eHl9PTi3TbsADE9Rt5p/w603-h339/dabo-swinney_1477613546075_6655064_ver1.0.jpg" width="603" /></a></div><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42); color: #2a2a2a;"><p style="font-style: italic;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">“I just don’t think it’s right that three teams have to play 13 games to be the champion, and one team has to play eight.”</span></i></p></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42); color: #2a2a2a;">That's just a little snippet of Dabo Swinney's comment about why he ranked Ohio State 11th in the college football polls. But, that didn't stop him from doubling down when the Buckeyes made into the college football playoffs despite playing 6 games </span><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42);">because the Big Ten started later and couldn't make up cancelled games. But, when you're 4-0 against the Buckeyes and one of the 800lbs gorillas in college football, you can troll your opponents with little impunity. Yet Swinney kept supplying more bullentin board material for the Buckeyes. I think he felt he was in Ohio State's head rent free and probably thought he was going to beat them again. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42);">I guess the lack of respect from him and media or how last year's game ended was enough fuel and motivation for Ohio State. Going into the game, I had no idea what Ohio State team was going to show up - win big or lay an egg. They played 6 games since October and three games were cancelled. It's hard for a team to find any rhythm and grow when they have to sit and deal with their own issues of players and coaches getting the virus. Plus their defense was suspect. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: georgia;"><span>All I know was Ohio State had to bring their A game and for quarterback Justin Fields, he would have to be flawless, because he had two subpar games against two quality opponents in Indiana and Northwestern. Fields answered the call by setting a Sugar Bowl record by throwing 6 touchdowns. He took a vicious shot to the midsection and gutted out the rest of the game as the Buckeyes throttled the Tigers by the score of 49-28. Not bad for a 11th ranked team and I can't imagine what the score would have been if Clemson played Coastal Carolina, who were actually ranked 10th according to Swinney's poll. But in the end it's Dabo just being Dabo and as of this morning, he's being roasted and trolled on social media. <br /></span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42);">As for Buckeye fans there's the "what if" as before the season started Harbaugh ran his mouth about Ohio State and Day privately told his team that there should be a mercy rule because they were going to hang a 100 on them. As it turned out Michigan had to cancel the game because Covid. The Wolverines were a dumpster fire on both sides of the ball and a lot of fans on both sides knew it was going to be a blood bath. </span></span></p><p><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: georgia;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(42, 42, 42);">Next is the Crimson Tide and it should be a hell of a game.</span></span></p>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-53482756238095286012020-11-26T19:27:00.009-05:002021-02-12T09:03:31.289-05:00Fishing Low and Clear <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xETvSmTJ8mGTd61RL1bNkdFhl9EVlBpiyZY05K-4xvx0cy152YZpW875hF9z6T6Sbz8ykIQznsGsfRtXKPwGTl7oAXDCzISV2tvtoY2GjoQZ4IhF0q5INkU7n-9vgXp44gnBbnC2D6aV/s800/losers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6xETvSmTJ8mGTd61RL1bNkdFhl9EVlBpiyZY05K-4xvx0cy152YZpW875hF9z6T6Sbz8ykIQznsGsfRtXKPwGTl7oAXDCzISV2tvtoY2GjoQZ4IhF0q5INkU7n-9vgXp44gnBbnC2D6aV/w571-h460/losers.jpg" width="571" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;">Low and clear. That's how it usually is on the Alley during the fall. Quite honestly, the Alley's streams generally run low and clear most of the time, because all of them are not spring fed and rely on runoff. On average the larger streams get low and clear a week after runoff. For some of the smaller streams, the window for perfect conditions is so brief it might last less than 48 hours. From muddy waters to crystal clear with the snap of a finger, that's what makes them so unique and also maddening. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For the record, I'm not thrilled at the prospect of fishing low and clear conditions. When the streams take on the clarity of vodka and I've always wondered where the hell do these fish hide? The larger rivers have enough deep water that fish can find security. In the smaller streams they don't have that luxury and they're completely exposed. A single brightly colored fish might be able to blend into the grooves of the shale bedrock as there's a mixture of light and dark rocks. However, if there's a school of them, they don't make an effort to conceal themselves. They just sit there intently eyeing any possible threat. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I remember one year on the Elk, a stream infamous for running low and clear. The Elk is also known for having ridiculous numbers of fish. Early on when I was still on the learning curve, I was completely naive that I was going to catch fish. It turned out to be an excerise in futility. I could see bottom and the water was barely a foot deep. But, I kept walking and walking in the hopes I could find a deep hole. During the entire time I didn't see one fish. Then I see in the distance several anglers standing along the river. As I got closer it was a large pool. The water so clear that I could see right to the bottom despite the fact the pool was 5' deep. There had to be almost 100 fish in it. It was like one of those pools loaded with fish at a sportsmen's show. You paid a fee and once you dropped your bait usually a single egg probably from an old jar of Uncle Josh's eggs. You had a better chance of getting struck by lighting then catching a fish. I watched several anglers throw everything but the kitchen sink at them. As soon as whatever they casted out, the fish would casually swim away, almost in a bored fashion. The fish obviously had no interest, but that didn't deter the anglers from trying. I turned and walked away muttering </span></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">"Idiots"</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">That turned out to be the last time I would venture into Pennsylvania when the streams were that low. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">In Ohio, the streams are much larger than Pennsylvania's. But when levels drop, our streams take on that same crystal clear clarity. When everywhere else is too low, I'll venture out to one river, the Grand which is the largest steelhead river in Ohio. Even when it's low, it still holds onto its murkiness that it's known for. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">When fishing low and clear conditions, I will scale back the size of everything from sacs to jigs. I use what I've always used and that's salmon eggs. The only difference is I'll downscale the size of them. I'll tied up the smallest sacs possible, about 5 eggs per sac. I'll use the lightest colors such as peach, salmon, or white. They look microscopic compared to the sacs I tie when the rivers are higher. I know some guys that use a single egg or a bead. I've never been a big fan of single eggs because you have a use a tiny hook. The thought of using a hook the same size as a salmon egg is ridiculous. As for beads, I've tried them but I've never took a liking to them. Others swear that using shiners is deadly in clear conditions, but I don't want to lug around a bucket of them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Before I go to bed, I check the flow data and the Grand is running at an anemic 75cfs. That's a far cry from the 700 to 1000cfs that I usually like fishing at. But it's better than Conneaut or Ashtabula as they were running in the low teens. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">I arrive at the section of the Grand that flows through the seedy section of Painesville. Today there's no homeless people sleeping in the park. No being harassed for smokes or money. I gear up and walk down to the river. I climb down the bank and the water is barely flowing over the rocks. It's so low that the water doesn't go over the top of my boots when I cross over. I could practically sprint across. During typical conditions, the water would be over my knees. I can see the strings of algae clinging onto the rocks reminding me that cold weather is still a long way off. Some of the leaves on the trees are starting to turn color. I can see the yellows, oranges, and reds on the maples and hickories. But there isn't the crispness in the air that harkens another steelhead season. It still feels like summer as I'm only wearing a long sleeved shirt. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I don't bother fishing the pool below where I crossed. During the summer the Grand had an epic flood, but not like the one in 2007. But it enough that it caused some changes. The first thing I noticed was the amount of sediment along the bank. Last year, I would have been over my waist today it's a little over my ankles. Even at first light, I can make out the shale ledges. If there's nobody fishing it when I come back I might give it a shot. I wade across the tailout and over the riffle. Above the cliff I hear that annoying rooster crowing. For the past 4 years, every time I'm fishing the pool below I hear that annoying little prick crow all morning long. I'm surprised that someone in the neighborhood hasn't killed him yet. I walk along the cliff and there's the huge pool. The locals call it the powder hole. Don't ask me where the name came from. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Standing along the river's edge, I can see the shale bedrock without the aid of polarizing glasses jutting out into the river. I wade out and I see can see the edge of it. From there I can't see bottom. The water is darker because the bottom is clay mud. That gives the fish a sense of security. The pool is barely flowing as I watch the water move at a glacial pace. Farther out and downstream is slack water and what my fellow steelheaders affectionally call "frog water". I sigh and know it's going to be tough fishing. </span><span style="font-family: georgia;">The wind starts to gust and I noticed leaves are getting blown about. In a few weeks, the streams will be littered in them. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">As with presentations, I go as small as possible with terminal tackle. I'll use the smallest float possible like a Raven SS 2.2 gram and the lightest line about 6 pound test. I tie on a #8 hook and I'm only using 3 split shots to balance the float. I cast out into the current and watch the float creep along. I see it tilt forward, pop several times, move, and slowly go under. I have too much line out and reel in. I adjust it to about 4' deep which would be considered fishing the abyss. I cast back out and watch the float slowly move along. I watch for any takes that can range from a violent dunking to the slightest taps. I continue to make adjustments and I know there's fish in here. About 20' downstream, I see the float starting to do that tap-tap-tap and I immediately start thinking of my nemesis - the creek chub. At first I resist the urge to yank hard and usually I'll flick the float as if I'm swatting them away. After a few more taps, I set the hook and right off the bat I know it's not a chub. Out of the water jumps a small steelhead. I see it zig zag across the bedrock and as soon as it sees me immediately bolts for deeper water. Because it's so small I stop it in its track and quickly horse it in. The fish is probably no more than 16" long and six months ago it was a 8" smolt. The fertile waters of Lake Erie fueled its growth as it almost doubled in size during that brief time period. Because it's so small, I handle it like a bass and place my thumb in its mouth. I popped the hook out and softly toss it out over the shale ledge.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">For about 45 minutes, I tangled with several more skippers. Much to my dismay I didn't catch one adult. The adults can be a fickled bunch. Some are very eager to make their way into the rivers and try to cover as much water as possible. Others are content to wait it out in the lake or the lower sections of a river, waiting for the next high water. But it really boils down to genetics. Fish found in the streams in early fall are usually fish stocked by Pennsylvania. That state stocks a fall run fish and just like Ohio, the fishery department will dump them off at the closest boat ramp to the lake. The smolts generally don't imprint well on their streams where they were released. Depending where they are in the lake, they run up what river is the closest. Ohio on the other hand stocks a winter run fish and they tend to run later in the fall or early winter. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">So far I've caught 8 fish and then all is quiet. My options are limited at this spot, so I start to head downstream and I use the time to study the bottom. When rivers run low and clear, that's the perfect time to make mental notes of pools and runs. I can see the where the river runs the deepest or any structure that gives fish a break from the current. I arrive at another pool and as expected is barely flowing. I look downstream and there isn't a person out fishing. Most anglers I I know would rather sit on the sidelines and wait for rain. In past years, it took weeks before any sufficient rainfall raises the streams. The pool is low that 2' is just enough to get my sac at the bottom. It feels like an eternity to see it go more than 20'. The flow is so slow that my centerpin reel barely even moves. I just stare at the float as it makes it voyage out towards the middle section of the pool. I see it bounce a couple times and I almost pull the trigger, but it's the bottom. I reel in and continue to tinker with the depth. Out goes the float and it chugs along. Then I see the tell tale tap - tap - tap of a fish picking up the sac and I set the hook. Another skipper leaps from the water and it's a fairly quick fight. It turns out to be the only fish I caught from the pool. By now the temperature is soaring and I walk further down. I stand on the rocks and I can see right to the bottom. I scan along the shale ledges to see if I can spot any fish. I look at the time and it's early afternoon. My gut tells me to pack in and head back to the car. I can't complain as I caught a decent number of fish considering conditions weren't ideal. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">I head back to the parking lot and before I cross over, I'm standing high on top of the bank. I look down and by now the sun is out and I see everything. I see the shale bedrock goes about halfway out and from the edge of it, I see a long snaking trench. It follows the bedrock and eventually ends near the tailout. When the river is higher, I can pretty well know where that trench is as I watch the speed of the bubbles. If the bubbles are going fast, that means the water is flowing over the bedrock. I don't bother fishing it as I can see numerous footprints in the mud. I'm sure over the past few weeks this spot has been pounded pretty hard. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Fishing low and clear isn't for everyone. It requires a lot of patience and persistence. Depending on what stream you fish, holes will be few and far between. If that's the case, it's better to fish down low. Fish tend to stage in the deeper waters. The problem is the lower ends are often inaccessible for the wading angler. The water is either too deep or the flow is virtually non existent. You're probably better off using a small boat and trolling. The other problem is fishing pressure. When fish have to pile into whatever deep water they can find, they'll be targeted unmercifully. When that happens they can very difficult to coax a bite from them. Best thing to do is get to the spot early, because it will become very crowded as soon as the sun comes up. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;">Or do a rain dance and hope something happens.</span></p>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-60712133218949868632020-08-04T19:21:00.000-04:002020-08-04T19:21:12.869-04:00The Smolt<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64d0gWlYGpz5foLiioOYZvaqewF5W6zE8B6fukwb9z2mLvGTALkDu6CNOgRsKRo8vfMFNHZuPQVPGOfnFzk2o6v-xz6piQJzWpnzk0eGfU8sJ-hZl2nldoNyFm1LrZ85ht__ZUaN7OVNz/s921/Screen+Shot+2020-06-29+at+2.02.16+PM.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="687" data-original-width="921" height="374" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh64d0gWlYGpz5foLiioOYZvaqewF5W6zE8B6fukwb9z2mLvGTALkDu6CNOgRsKRo8vfMFNHZuPQVPGOfnFzk2o6v-xz6piQJzWpnzk0eGfU8sJ-hZl2nldoNyFm1LrZ85ht__ZUaN7OVNz/w500-h374/Screen+Shot+2020-06-29+at+2.02.16+PM.jpeg" width="500" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><font face="georgia">The float pops and goes under. When I jerk the rod, I immediately know it's a smolt. It breaks the surface and tries to imitate the leaps that the adults are famous for. Despite its small size, it fights tenaciously. I calmly pull it in and gently grab it. In my hand is a 10 inch steelhead. It has all the features of the adult except for the cartoonish like eyes that are huge compared to its head. Not wanting to cause any injury, I pull the hook out delicately. They're the future of our fishery. I quickly release it and watch it dart back into the depths. </font><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">What will become of that smolt? According to the state's fishery biologist, the odds of them reaching adulthood are not great. Lake Erie is the not the best nursery for them, considering over 40 million walleye and other gamefish generally don't pass up one of these juicy little smolts. The state releases over 400,000 of them into seven streams along the coast of Ohio. All of them are unceremoniously dumped into the river at the nearest boat ramp to the lake. There's no fanfare or press release. The truck is backed up and the hose is attached and out they go. It's a big change from the hatchery where they were nutured and feed with the greatest care. Now they're on their own. They will have the run the guantlet of predators and feed themselves. The fertile waters of Lake Erie will fuel their growth and the following year, they'll come back as a feisty 20" skipper. If they buck the odds even more, one of them might be that trophy steelhead that we dream about. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">I've always wonder what does the smolt do once they're dumped into the river? Will they linger? Or immediately head into the lake? Most of the smolts are content to hang out at the lower sections of the rivers, but some are more adventurous. I remember one year I was fishing the midsection of the Rocky River for carp in late June. I was standing on a gravel bar waiting for a carp to take my bait. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a small fish herd a small school of minnows. At first I thought it was a young smallmouth bass. Then I noticed it was a smolt. I watched it methodically cut off any path of escape as it slowly moved the tight ball of minnows towards the shallow water. Despite its young age, it acted like a wily adult. The smolt slowly got into position and with lightening speed rushed the ball and grabbed one of the minnows. Instead of darting back into deeper water, it proudly swam off with its prize. That day the temperature was almost 80F and I'm sure the river was close to 70F. In their native habitat, they'll stay in their river of birth for a couple years before heading out the ocean. Ohio streams are not spring fed so they can't regulate their flow or temperature. If the summer is too dry, the river gradually slows to crawl and the water stagnates. The water temperature will go into the upper 70s which is pass their threshold. Was this smolt foolish to head too far upstream? Probably, but it has no clue. All it knows it needs to eat and grow. I eventually leave and wonder if that little fella will make it. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">I've often have this love/hate relationship with the smolt. They're crucial for the survival of the fishery as Steelhead Alley's streams can't sustain a natural reproducing fishery. But there's been times when I've cursed under my breath as I caught one smolt after another. I've liken them to a school of voracious piranhas. They will recklessly hit anything that resembles food. In most cases, I'll go upstream to get away from the aggravation. But most of the time, I'm usually done with steelhead as many of the smolts are released in late April. </font></div><div><font face="georgia"><br /></font></div><div><font face="georgia">Without smolts I would most likely be stuck at home during the winter months growing fat and longing for the days of spring when I can go out and fish for bass or walleye or carp. That's why I take great care whenever I caught one. I whinch when I take the hook out. The odds of them reaching to adulthood are stacked against th</font>em.<br />
<br /></div>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-51310096735909881232020-04-26T12:11:00.001-04:002020-12-29T00:11:17.231-05:00Diehard Steelheader's Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgic0XoXUwNe3jRvnD6KVCoyA68VD-WvarF3TLK-3tV_cMvsOPeCcanlJy-Fz7L9DWhWVZihBjOdgqyOPDQymAmFUkLfje0QUDOG9y6mlN6nh17XPfpXl540xo2vsoDagLPatsHj5arn6g/s1600/snowy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="775" data-original-width="1037" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgic0XoXUwNe3jRvnD6KVCoyA68VD-WvarF3TLK-3tV_cMvsOPeCcanlJy-Fz7L9DWhWVZihBjOdgqyOPDQymAmFUkLfje0QUDOG9y6mlN6nh17XPfpXl540xo2vsoDagLPatsHj5arn6g/s400/snowy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">5:00A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The alarm goes off and I reach around in the dark for my glasses and the phone. I fumble in the dark looking for the lamp switch and suddenly the room is flooded with light. I gather myself and sit at the edge of the bed. Blurry eyed, I put on my glasses and take a deep breath. But before I get up, I do what any diehard steelheader does, I check the weather and flow data </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Partly cloudy and the current temperature is 29F with a high of 34F and sunny conditions later</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Flow data, the river is currently running at 300cfs</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In my book, it's a perfect day for fishing. I don't linger in bed or try to sneak in another 15 minutes of sleep, as a diehard steelheader never does that. When I was younger, I never thought of myself as a diehard angler. I was very fickled when it came to the weather. During my college years, I would never imagine myself getting up so early as I was just getting to bed after a long night of clubbing and playing euchre until the wee hours of morning. Other times, I was still shit faced or too hungover to wet a line. Only until when I moved to Ohio, I caught the steelhead bug. I spent countless of hours on the water honing my skills. I never spared any expense when it came to equipment. I dedicated myself to becoming the best steelheader that I could be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I dress and head downstairs. Still groggy, I manage to count out 6 scoops for the coffee maker. While the coffee is brewing, I fire up the stove and prepare to make an omelette. I chop up some onions and red peppers and saute them in the pan. I mix the 3 eggs in the bowl and I add some Frank's red hot sauce and salt and pepper. Then I add all of the ingredients into the pan. Most of the guys I know wouldn't even bother and skip breakfast all together. For them that's a waste of time as they need to hit the road. Once the eggs are almost cooked, I add some shredded cheese and fold the omelette over. For me breakfast is important because I'll be on the move and it will be cold out. I need a hearty breakfast to fuel me for the morning hours. My girlfriend is in Washington DC at a conference and I'm watching the dogs. I feed them and let them out. I enjoy my cup of Joe and wolf down the omelette. While I'm eating I and read the news on my computer. The cornavirus is making a mess of things.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">6:00A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm on the road heading up I-271 and in the dark as I sip my coffee and listen to music. I never blast the stereo. The sound is halfway and I'm not listening to any upbeat music to get me pumped up. I always seem to listen to music that slow and somber. One of my favorites is listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan. His slow melodic riffs and voice gets me. The sound of his guitar isn't harsh but it's powerful. I tap the wheel as I listen to Cold Shot. The river is about 90 miles, so it's a little over an hour away. I can see the faint glimpse of first light on the horizon. The highway is a desolate place. I past a few trucks and cars as I-271 merges into I-90. The music is interrupted as phone rings. One the display screen, it one of my fellow diehards and I answer it. He's calling to see where I'm going. I say I'm heading east today to get away from the circus on my home river, but I'm not confident that this particular river will be less crowded. The funny thing is we're always vague on where we're going, but we always have a good idea what stream we'll be at. During the past couple of years I've been fishing mostly solo. Several guys I've fished with have been plagued with injuries or old age has finally caught up with them. None of them could hack an outing with me. I could never sit on a hole for the entire morning or fish the first spot from the lot. Word is getting around that fish are pushing into all of the rivers. We talk for about 30 minutes about various things and he has to take another call. Early mornings for the diehards can be busy and there's times I wished cell phones were never invented. I resume to going back to finishing off my coffee and Voodoo Child comes on. It's first light and I'm 20 miles from the exit. I haven't fished this river since January and that day I crushed them despite the number of people out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7:20A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I pull off the exit and head north. As I look at up the road, I see a SUV starting to slow down near the bridge. He's not sure as I see the brakes lights tap and he pulls off. I sense he's going to turn left and he does. He goes across the highway and then turns right. He's the first car in, which is surprising because there's times when I've seen 4 or 5 cars there. I pull in and noticed he has California plates. That seems to be a far drive to get a steelhead fix. As I pull in, I call my friend who's 20 minutes behind and let him know that's it's me and another angler. I guzzle my remaining coffee and pop the hatch. I have dressing down to a science. Less than 2 minutes I'm geared up and I exchanged pleasantries with other angler, who's stunned that I dressed so fast. I don't shoot the shit as the diehard steelheader doesn't dick around. I wish the other angler good luck and immediately head upstream. I know some guys that actually dress before leaving home, that's dedication.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7:30A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I walk along the bank, I can see river is slightly off color. It was high earlier in the week and yesterday's weather was downright awful. Somewhere in the murky depths are steelhead hanging off the ledges or at the tailout. Nearly every diehard steelhead has their perfect flow or conditions. Since I primarily fish with eggs, I tend to like off colored conditions. Nearly every streams has their "sweet spot" and in most cases that window can be brief as the next day it can be gin clear. I reach the pool and it runs along a shale cliff. Like most Steelhead Alley's pools, it's no more than a couple feet deep. On the bottom are scatter rocks mixed in with shale ledges. The visiblity is probably a foot and a half.</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia, times new roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I pull out my huge jar of eggs. Inside there's a variety of colors to choose from. From experience, the four go to colors for me when the water is stained are pink, chartruese, white, and red. I shake the jar and out comes a pink sac. On the first drift and boom, fish on. That's how it usually goes on certain days on the Alley. Back in my native Ontario it would be rare to hook up that fast. The water boils and the fish races upstream. The fight is fairly quick as I beach a bright silver hen. Probably a week ago she was at the lower end patiently waiting for higher waters. I release her and wonder how much further will she go? A couple drifts later and I hook into a large male. But I eye the other pool upstream as it's bigger. My gut tells me to go and after releasing the fish, I head up. My friend calls and I tell him I already have 2 fish but I'm moving upstream. He says the other guy is under the bridge. I tell him I left the spot for him and he says thanks. The diehard always looks out for their buddies.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">7:45A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's a fairly quick walk to the next pool. Over the years, I've honed my ability to read water. I watch the bubbles and I see where they're moving slower. I'm fishing a river that is fairly shallow. The fish tend to utilize any cover they can find whether it's submerged trees, rocks, or shale ledges. Along the bank there's a large tree in the water. I watch the bubbles race along the tree. A little farther out, they move considerably slower. I can see the current swirl around the submerged rocks. I pick my spot and cast out. I feather the reel with my finger and the float starts to trot. It will give the fish just enough time to take it. The float pops and goes under. Despite it being cold and the fish gives a nice run, pulling out into the current. I land it and it's another of those "cookie cutter" Lake Erie steelhead about 24" and 4 pounds. I beach a hen that has some color and her belly is still tight full of eggs. This is the time of year when I catch fish that are dropping back or heading upstream. It seems the fish are holding in the middle which is unsual considering it's cold. The pool continues to give up fish and I call my friend downstream to see how's he doing. We tend to do that, getting a pulse on where the fish are or what color they prefer. Other times, we often save a wasted morning on certain stream that isn't giving up fish. He tells me they're tearing into them. I'm content to stay put for the time being.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">8:00A.M to 11:30A.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The pool is giving up a lot of fish, so far I've hooked into 15 fish. As I fish I continue to look over my shoulder to see if any people are coming up or down stream. It's something that I always hated, because I crave having solitude. Diehard steelheaders rarely have to content with crowds because they know the rivers like the back of their hand. During spring, they'll be miles upstream from everyone. But, today I'm happy with fishing low and near easy access. I look downstream and see one of the guys fishing. Satisfied that I caught my fill, because I never liked beating a hole to death. I walk down and see the guys. They've been picking away at them. We're surpised at the lack of people. It's almost like there's something wrong, but we're not complaining about it. We fish the run and catch a few more fish. We decide to head downstream to another spot and as expected there's nobody there. Before crossing over, I head to my car and grab a turkey sandwich and wolf it down. The diehard steelheader rarely has time to eat, because they usually have their hands full with fish. I cross over, cast out and boom, fish on. I have a feeling we're going to lay into some serious numbers of fish.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">11:30A.M to 3:00P.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The two other guys I'm fishing with are considered diehards. Both share the same passion as I do. We fish below the bridge and spread out. The number of fish continues to pile up. The river got an incredible push of fish. Between the three of us, we've caught close 80 fish. There's been times when I've caught epic numbers of fish. That's why the Alley get the reputation as one of the finest steelhead fishery's in the lower 48 states. Yeah, it might be an artifical fishery and the streams are far too small to support that many fish. But, Lake Erie is fertile enough to support the millions of steelhead stocked. We continue to work our downstream and I have a hankering to head to another spot. I leave the guys and head downstream. It's not a far drive and I see the bridge and there's five cars parked along the road. Most of the early morning crowd is long gone. There's only a few stragglers farther upstream at the most popular spots. For the diehard steelheader it doesn't matter if the spot was worked over. He's skilled enough and know his quarry's habits. He knows that fish move from one spot to another. He knows that sometimes the bite could have been off earlier in the morning when it was colder. Or he knows that spot was fished by anglers that lacked the skills he possesses. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I look downstream and there's nobody fishing</span><span style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">. I walk down and the first thing I notice is how high the water is. Lake Erie's water level has been at a record high this season as the lower sections are deep enough that some anglers can take their boats upstream. I look for the chunks of concrete as that's where the currunt flows to the left and the fish like to hold off the shale ledges. The boulder downstream that I often use to guage the flow is underwater. For the entire time there I never see it. Unlike the other spots I fished earlier, the flow here is pedestrian. This spot is popular in the early fall as fish stage and wait for higher waters. The float chugs along as I watch for any signs of abnormal movement. The floats starts to pop and I wait for it to get completely go under. It finally goes under and I set the hook. I feel the rod throb as the fish moves upstream. The jumps a couple time and I steer it towards the bank. It's another bright silver fish. The flow ebbs and falls as I fish and I pick away at them. I've lost count of how many fish I caught, but I always do. One of the guys call to see what's going on and I say there's enough fish here to spark my interest. I tell them the most popular spots are probably occupied or been worked over by the morning crowd. They decide to head upstream and I tell I'll have to leave around three. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">3:00P.M</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The diehard in me would want to fish until dark. They never really think about time. The only thing getting them off the river is either running out of bait or darkness. There's been times when I've fished from first light until sunset. Walking back as the light starts to fade and the shadows creep in closer. In the distance I only see my car and no other. The ride home allows me to rest my back and knees. When I get home, I know I'll sleep good. But today I have the task of getting back to my girlfirend's house and feeding the dogs. I leave the river around 3:00P.M and head to McDonalds for dinner. Lunch felt like it was ages ago and my stomach is growling for something big and hearty. I get a quarter pounder, large fries, and a large hot chocolate to warm me up. Before I head out, I go through my Spotify library and select ZZ Top. The music is a little more upbeat maybe to help fight off tiredness as it will be a long drive back. The hot chocolate hits the spot and I'm grooving to Gimme All Your Lovin'. Once I get back, the dogs greet me and I inspect for any accidents. I feed them and let them out. I could kick back and relax, but I know that would be a mistake as I would most likely crash there for the night. I set the newspaper out and get the eggs from the fridge. In an hour I have the eggs all tied. I make something light for dinner and after eating, I head upstairs to read and eventually fall asleep. The clocks go forward and I'll have an extra hour to fish in the evening just what the diehard wants. I set the alarm and tomorrow I'll have to figure out where else to go.</span></div>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-72016009422862258342020-04-05T09:05:00.003-04:002020-04-05T21:28:46.786-04:00My Other HobbyFor years, people told me that I have an eye for photography. What amazed them was that I took pictures with my iPhone. Cameras on phones are limited and I wanted to see what I could do with a camera. Last fall, I purchased a Sony A6000 which was a great camera for a beginner. I researched and read the basics of photography. But, I usually learn from trial and error.<br />
<br />
Last week, I went into Cleveland. The city was virtually a ghost town. I parked my car and walked the city, randomly taking pictures. I did all of them in black and white to get the sense of how the pandemic has affect the city.<br />
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Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-5575087057163613162019-12-10T20:30:00.000-05:002020-02-04T06:49:37.617-05:00Fishing and Secrecy <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><br /></i>
<i>"Where did you go fishing today?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"Far away"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"Did you fish high or low?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"I was all over the place"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"How many fish did you catch?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>"Enough to keep me happy"</i><br />
<br />
Fishing and secrecy, some of the best steelheaders I know are infamous for keeping others in the dark. Some of it is deliberate and other times they get great joy of hearing the discomfort on the other line as their buddy is struggling to catch fish.<br />
<br />
I tend to fall into the tight lipped category. Whenever someone asked if I having any luck, I give out the most vague response<br />
<br />
<i>"I just got here" or "nope"</i><br />
<br />
The person asking the question often continues walking and when they're out of sight, I look over and chuckle. Because, I was banging a ton of fish out of that spot. Why ruin it?<br />
<br />
The same can be said about secret spots. Every angler I know has their secret spots. Now many people will often say<br />
<br />
<i>"There's no such thing as a secret spot on Steelhead Alley! Everybody knows your favorite spots!"</i><br />
<br />
While that might be true in the urban areas where the majority of anglers fish elbow to elbow. Everybody knows the names of the most popular holes and pools. Those spots are often great and can hold a lot of fish. But you'll have to deal with a ton of people. I leave those places to the hordes.<br />
<br />
I usually go off the beaten path, deep in the darkest reaches of the Alley. I'll fish waters that have rarely see a line. I'm willing to go the extra distance. That's where I find my secret spots. The places that many are not willing to go. The long hikes through the woods and crossing over numerous times to get my spots. There I find solitude. I guard these places unwilling to share the locations. I worked hard to find them. I know for a fact that a couple of diehards I've fished with would never disclosed their secret spots. I liken it a strict code among the best of the steelheaders.<br />
<br />
It's not that I'm selfish, but I've learned that over time shooting your mouth off can have dire consequences. That's why I rarely post anything on social media. I live by the motto<br />
<br />
<i>"You're on a need to know basis and you don't need to know".</i><br />
<br />
I remember when going on other either steelheadsite or ohiogamefishing and shaking my head when I read reports. The person posting the report gave out the name of the river and location. I couldn't believe that some people were stupid enough to give out that much information. I chalked it up to someone being naive and feeding their ego. However, I know some individuals that deliberately posted a bogus report to deflect pressure on their home waters. Quite honestly nobody knew if the report was real or not. Just like fishing and secrecy go hand in hand. So does bullshitting and lying. That can be an entire other story, which I plan on writing about.<br />
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Sites like those created friction because there was a group of people that believed the internet was the sole reason for the increase in crowds. That's debatable today, because steelheadsite no longer exists and reports on ohiogamefishing are few and far between. Facebook is the place now where everybody shares their outings. If the internet disappeared tomorrow, the number of people fishing would be the same.<br />
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There's a very small and I mean a very small circle of people, that I feel comfortable enough that I'll give out information. I liken it to a brotherhood. I know who to trust and not to trust. The people that I trust the most are the ones that I developed a deep relationship with. We often help one another out and there's been times when I was one river and they were on another, we would call to see what the action was like. Sometimes they thought a certain river was too high and I rolled the dice and made the drive out and it turned out to be the right call. They would call and say the fishing was awful and I would tell them that the action was hot. But when it came to those secret spots, I would rather have ice picks stuck in my balls than give out the exact location.<br />
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Unfortunately Mother Nature has played a role in our secret spots. She has the power to make them disappear. High water and ice are the culprits as they move gravel and mud from one spot to another. Banks get chewed out by ice and alter the flow. I've lost count of how many spots I lost over the years. It's a trip down memory lane as I tick off another spot that filled in. At times, it's heartbreaking as I walk and piss and moan that another spot is gone. But I have stumbled onto new spots and on my maps, I'll mark an X on it.<br />
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Some people will view my comments as anti-camaraderie or being selfish. The way I see it, there are no set of rules as everybody follows there own. Put in the work and find those places where you can enjoy the solitude and reap the awards.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-71832328651409061762019-10-02T21:04:00.001-04:002019-11-07T09:24:20.506-05:00The Climb Up Mount Washington<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64O5Q_yDoNc8WhD6PewNN_NZPKqTqczCmm1gylpoimZ44izvw1VRXZDF6diAW9TfFobMKZsC8puCV8T-i1KKrcIIM6XiuhI_C0RyZ4B2s3WJgadOHusMMBOvrVhesXvL3JTHhaoc9eAJt/s1600/IMG_2093.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1294" data-original-width="1600" height="322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj64O5Q_yDoNc8WhD6PewNN_NZPKqTqczCmm1gylpoimZ44izvw1VRXZDF6diAW9TfFobMKZsC8puCV8T-i1KKrcIIM6XiuhI_C0RyZ4B2s3WJgadOHusMMBOvrVhesXvL3JTHhaoc9eAJt/s400/IMG_2093.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">I peek out from our room's window and the skies have cleared from yesterday's rains. Stepping outside onto the balcony, I watch the shadows of several clouds roll over the surrounding mountains. We only have one day in New Hampshire as the majority of our vacation will be spent in Maine. On the agenda is the drive to the top of Mt Washington, the highest point in New England. It was something that we really didn't talk about prior to the trip. The fall foliage season was still weeks away. We didn't want to do a hike or shop. We to wanted to do something fun. After researching about the area, the Mt Washington auto road came up in several articles on the Internet. Many people raved about it</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Awe inspiring drive</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Nerve wrecking! Not for the faint of heart</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>The views from the top were breath taking</i></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Checked another one off the bucket list</i></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">We were intrigued and I figured it was something that we do and brag about it to our friends and co-workers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;">We head out of North Conway, up highway 16 north. I noticed the winds are still strong from yesterday. It was an ominous sign as we fought gusting winds from Pennsylvania well into New York Friday evening on our way to New England. We can see Mt Washington and from a distance it doesn't look all that sinister. It almost looks inviting. There's no craggy top or steep rock cliffs. It looks wide and weathered, more like a gigantic hill than a mountain. But there's one thing that the mountain is notorious for and that's erratic weather.</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"> It holds the record for the highest recorded wind speed at 231mph and wind gusts exceeding 75mph happen over a 100 times in the year. If you're lucky you get the average wind speed of 35mph. You never know what you'll get in a given day. It can be sunny, raining, or foggy or all three in the same day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "open sans";">W</span></span><span style="text-align: justify;">e see the sign for the Mt Washington auto road and turn in. As we approach the gate, we see a sign</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><i style="font-size: 16px; text-align: left;">“If you have a fear of heights, you may not appreciate this driving experience”. People not wanting to drive themselves can take a guided tour"</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">Fear of heights, that's something I have. But, I'm too curious not to do it. We drive up to the gate, I see the trees moving about from the wind. I figure the winds around 20 to 30mph. The person at the gate comes out and informed us that</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: justify;">"Winds at the top are gusting over 70mph and visibility is currently poor near the summit."</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">I don't bother to ask when will the clouds will go away, because he probably has no idea. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I look up and I can't see the top of the mountain. Prior to going we thought about taking the cog train. But it was more expensive and took much longer. I wanted to experience first hand driving up one of the most unique roads in North America. We paid the $40.00 admission fee and got a CD and the famous "This car climbed Mt Washington" bumper sticker.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We were in my </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">girlfriend's Hyundai Sante Fe and she just had brand new tires put on before the trip. As for the brakes? They were still the original ones and she had 60,000 miles on the car. I couldn't imagine anyone being stupid enough to take their beater up this road, but I'm sure some people where dumb enough to do it and lived to tell about it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The road climbs 4,618 ft from an altitude of 1,527 ft at the bottom to 6,145 ft at the top. The average gradient of 11.6%. The road is about 7.6 miles long. It was completed and opened to the public in 1861</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 14px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Heading up the road, the car whines as it starts its ascend. My girlfriend's car has about 190hp. I think about the cars back in the early 20th century when they had the fraction of power of today's cars. Just the thought of a Model T and it's 20hp engine chugging up the road would make me chuckle. Before that teams of horses routinely took tourists up and down the road. </span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXkOT0WJF5WKr7qcBDB4huzzM3kFTdgT-4Oeu8qvkoyI04_w3YNj1wgBIKK52KuN_3KxKFh9Ilj63dc_-VgSc9M-UFXaImjcFeYRo6idrxphr4iTpKB7nFtxSR5W4yMzAOXH9KYThAW5D/s1600/IMG_2111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXkOT0WJF5WKr7qcBDB4huzzM3kFTdgT-4Oeu8qvkoyI04_w3YNj1wgBIKK52KuN_3KxKFh9Ilj63dc_-VgSc9M-UFXaImjcFeYRo6idrxphr4iTpKB7nFtxSR5W4yMzAOXH9KYThAW5D/s400/IMG_2111.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">The first part of the ascend is uneventful as the trees provide a sense of security. The maples and oaks grew close to the road on both sides and it feel almost like a Sunday morning drive. I look at my girlfriend and she has that look of disbelief that we're actually doing. </span></span><span style="background-color: #fcfcfd; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Ascending Mt. Washington you will pass through several distinct ecological zones. At the base is a forest of northern hardwoods, followed a bit higher by a forest of spruce and fir. As more elevation is gained, trees become small and stunted. These dwarf and gnarled trees of the sub-alpine zone are called krummholtz. Tree line, the elevation above which trees do not grow, is about 4,400 feet , nearly 2,000 feet below the summit of Mt. Washington.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">By the time we're over 3000' the winds are gusting hard and I can feel the car getting pushed around. I look at the scrawny fir and spruces getting whipped around. I start to get a feeling of uneasiness as we have to contend with the clouds. At 4000' were at the tree line and wind becomes more furious. Visibility starts to rapidly deteriorate and I see the look of fear on my girlfriend's face. The car is barely moving along as I struggle to keep it as far away from the edge as possible, as there are no guard rails along the entire length of the road. We get on the gravel section of the road and it's extremely narrow and steep. I hear the rocks pop under the tires as we crawl along. I strain to see and hope that nobody is coming down. Now I starting sweat and I have a death grip on the steering wheel. I finally crack when I can't see anything. My girlfriend points out a pull off and pull in. I shut the car off and the wind outside is howling. The clouds are racing by at an incredible speed. We sit for a few minutes to collect ourselves. I open the door and I'm blasted by the wind and the air is cold. When we entered the road at the bottom it was the low 60s. I feel the wind rip through my fleece jacket. We manage to take some pictures, but the clouds obscure the view. We quickly get in the car and I look at the road. I see a mini van go by and disappear into the clouds. I ask my girlfriend if we should continue because the conditions are so bad. She tells me we're so close and going back isn't an option. I begrudgingly agree because I would have to return the bumper stick in disgrace. After 20 minutes we get a break in the clouds and quickly get back on the road. Sensing the window could close quickly, I speed up the hill. We see the 6 mile marker and we have another mile to go. I quicken the pace as the road is a little wider and flat. Before you know it, there's the parking lot and the clouds quickly move in. We made it to the top. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqOTY7Q15MaqQmJEI4qGfJyJNjrBY6HxfR1c3bzkIrmpOx_UZdis_bMk4AAxEys7uVbcTMo5jksEGgHr-4UrOc5nw0DBBYTIUJhuOgwyT8pONJrBvSi4X1FqdR_SMW1qdokCyrKNbOsNR/s1600/IMG_5143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1083" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSqOTY7Q15MaqQmJEI4qGfJyJNjrBY6HxfR1c3bzkIrmpOx_UZdis_bMk4AAxEys7uVbcTMo5jksEGgHr-4UrOc5nw0DBBYTIUJhuOgwyT8pONJrBvSi4X1FqdR_SMW1qdokCyrKNbOsNR/s400/IMG_5143.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">I take my hands of the wheel and let out a sigh of relief. We get out and walk to the stairs. The wind is strong enough that climbing it is difficult. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">I noticed my lungs started to sting whenever I breath. We're over 6000' and the air is thinner. We huff and puff up the steps and we reach the top. We see several people, mostly hikers </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">that made the climb up and they looked dressed for winter. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We start to get cold and take refuge in the gift shop. I crack the door open and we quickly enter. Once the door is close it's very quiet. You can't even hear the wind outside. I see a elderly gentleman behind the counter reading a book. He asked how was a our morning and I reply </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"nerve wrecking"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I asked him how does he deal with ride up and down the mountain and he dryly replies</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"You get use to it"</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">He goes back to reading his book. We walk around and there's nothing that interests me. I open the door and wind blast us. Mt Washington state park is fairly small as it's about 60 acres in size. The park has a gift shop, cafeteria, museum, and the famous weather observatory. Despite the awful weather, the park this morning is a bustling place when we enter the main building. At the front desk, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">I look at the weather report</span><br />
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<i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; text-align: left;">Winds gusting between 50 to 70mph</i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Temperature 34F with wind chills of 20F</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I ask the person behind the desk how long will the clouds last and he replies</span></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif;">"It depends, because of the storms yesterday, but they should clear out..........hopefully" </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He didn't sound so confident. Asking for a future weather report on top of Mt Washington is pretty well pointless. Why does Mt Washington get such lousy weather? It's </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">partly due to the convergence of several storm tracks, mainly from the Atlantic to the south, the Gulf region </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and the Pacific Northwest. All three of them routinely hit the White Mountains. The mountains act like funnel and that's the reason for the constant strong winds. Even though Mt Washington is only 6200' it's weather on the summit especially during winter can rival the highest Himalayan peaks. For the time being we just have to be patient and hope for clearer conditions. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">Since we got free admission to the museum, we go there to kill time. The museum is small, but there plenty of information and displays about the weather, the people who study it, and the unique flora and fauna found on the summit. After 30 minutes we head back up to the cafeteria and outside you can't see a thing. The clouds race by and just like at the gift shop you can't hear anything outside. The buildings on the mountain are well built to withstand the elements. We get a couple cups of coffee and I see the groups of hikers filing in. Their faces are red from the cold. It's been an hour and there's been no let up with the clouds. I'm concerned that we could waste a lot of time sitting here. I can't imagine the disappointment from the people who came up the mountain on the cog train. The train takes over an hour and half to get to the top. We hear the call that the train will be departing soon. I'm sure the majority of people that came up were hoping to see the surrounding scenery. Once in a while there's a break in the clouds and people rush towards the windows to get a glimpse. I finished my coffee and I look at the time it's almost noon. I'm getting antsy as I want to start heading down. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">Finally we get a break in the weather. The clouds gradually disappear and there's nothing but blue skies. The majority of people start to file out. We exit the center and walk towards the cog rail broad walk. I can see as far as the eye can see. I've heard in the mornings if the conditions are clear that you can see the Atlantic Ocean. I see the smaller row of mountains and the clouds far off in the distance. My girlfriend points out Lake Winnipesaukee where she stayed last month. I taking as many pictures as possible and the view is indeed breath taking. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Finally it's time to start heading down. We get the car and I remember from the CD that the car should be in 1st gear for the descent. Because of the clear conditions, there's plenty of cars making their way up. The engine whines as I slowly head down. We reach the dreaded gravel section and according the CD that cars on the way up have right of way. But I have no interest in waiting as I don't want to stop precariously to the edge of the road. I creep along and there's inches to spare as I pass a large pickup. Around the hairpin and down the road we stop at an outlook. We're around 5000' and we get out. The wind isn't as strong and we take in the scenery. I could be standing on a summit somewhere in Rockies or Asia. There's a sign asking people not to walk off the trial as the surrounding vegetation is fragile. I take several pictures of Tuckermen's ravine a popular spot for downhill skiers. It's the last stop on the mountain as we wind down the road and we see the enterance to the auto road. It's another check on the bucket list as I drove up to one of the highest point on the eastern seaboard of North America. We have lunch at a restaurant at the base of the mountain. Sitting out on the patio, I look up and I catch the glimpse of the sun's rays bouncing off the windows of the cars going up the road. They look like tiny specks of light. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: left;">The Mt Washington auto road is a one of a kind road and unlike any other that I've driven. It's both awe inspiring and terrifying. </span></div>
Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-90776466179836650532019-09-08T17:21:00.001-04:002019-09-11T21:55:30.173-04:00Last Trip To My Home Town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Written in my journal a few years ago</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There's something about growing up in a small town. It's the innocence, being isolated and making the most of what you have. My hometown of Chelmsford, Ontario was nestled in the middle of the Sudbury basin. Chemmy as some the locals called it, was 12 miles northwest from the city of Sudbury. While 12 miles doesn't seem a lot. It felt like I was in another world when I was a kid.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was a bedroom community mostly comprised of blue collared workers that worked in the outlying mines. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was your typical two light town. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Canadian Pacific railway ran along the northside of the town. There wasn't a mall or theater. Just a few restaurants and stores. The arena was the only place that served to fill our entertainment needs as many of us learned to skate and play hockey. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back in the 70s, we didn't have cable and there were two channels, one in English and other in French. You had to use your creativity to fend off boredom. Some kids played sports and others found some type of hobby. I could be found in the bush exploring or at one of the streams or lakes fishing. During the winter, I would often be in my bedroom reading books. But as with most kids from small towns, they out grow their childhood homes and move to bigger and better places. Mine was to Southern Ontario, then to Alberta and eventually the United States. I moved to the Cleveland area in 1998 and I've been there ever since. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Last week I made the journey to meet my family to spread my father's ashes. My father passed away last December after complications from his surgery. My father was never a religious person. In his will, he didn't want a funeral and his wishes were to have his ashes spread at the golf course where he played. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sunday morning, I leave Cleveland blurry eyed and tired. The night before I was at the U2 concert and I was lucky to get any sleep. The last time I was back home was 2009. A week after visiting, my grandmother had a stroke. Due to her age and the severity of it, my father and uncle made the decision to move her closer to my uncle in Ottawa. Years before that my parents moved to British Columbia to be closer to their grandchildren. In 2012, I got news that my aunt Lillian and uncle Robert had sold their home and moved to Ottawa as my aunt was the early stages of dementia. They were the last of my extended family in the area. That's when I wondered if I would ever return.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Eight years later, I'm driving up north. The sprawling urban jungle of Toronto gradually gives way to the rolling hills and then the rocks and lakes of the Canadian Shield. It's a quiet trip as my girlfriend is sleeping. I use the time to reflect. My father was in poor health for several years. My father and I had a strained relationship. We were never close and our personalities often clashed. I hadn't seen my sister and her family for a very long time as she lived in British Columbia. My younger brother's life was a mess and he was slowly putting the pieces of it back together. Earlier in the year, my grandmother passed away. It was a stark reminder that I'm getting older. I get a text message from my sister and I tell her I'm almost near the city limits. In the distance I see the superstack, the iconic symbol of the city. We check into the hotel and head over to the restaurant where they were eating. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As we walk in, there's my sister and her husband and their youngest son. My mother hugs me and cries as it has been some time since I've seen her. Also in attendance is my uncle and one of his sons. I go over and hug my brother. I introduce my girlfriend to everyone and settle down to eat. It's a little overwhelming because we're so spread out across the country. It's a time of catching up and I'm mostly listening as I'm stuffing my face with food. The next morning, we're all meeting at the golf course. We get back to the hotel and I'm out before my head hits the pillow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next morning, we meet at the Lively Golf Course, where one of my father's friend has planted a tree in his honor. It's a small blue spruce planted near the 18th hole. We all gather around and my mother breaks down as she spreads his ashes around it. My brother, I, and my sister gather to support her. My uncle says goodbye to his brother and tells him that both Lillian and Robert wished they could be there. As we start to leave I look back at the tree and wonder how big it will be when I'm 72 as that was the age of my father when he died. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After the ceremony, I take my girlfriend and mother to Chelmsford. We drive on the Northwest bypass and in the distance I can see the town down in the valley. The town has grown as there's several new developments off the highway. We come up to the traffic light and there's the old grocery store where I worked as a teen as did my mother. We turn onto highway 144 and there's the Canadian Tire, KFC, Belanger Ford, and Northland Hotel. The four places I remember from my youth. I see my old high school that is slated to close due to low enrollment. My father was a teacher there his entire 30-year career. We drive down Edward Street and see the house that I grew up in. As it was in 2009, the house is for sale again. I tell my girlfriend all of the names of the people that lived on that section of the street. Not surprisingly, nearly all of them are gone except for the Daiglemen's.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We start our tour and I point out houses of people that I knew and asked my mother if they were still around. Most of the answers were no. We turn onto Main Street and nearly all of the stores that I remember are gone. The sporting goods store, the steak house, and the Sears store where my mother use to pick up her parcels when she ordered from the catalog. There is a sense of sadness because it's not the place that I remember. Everything on the street looks old and tired. I point out the Algoma Hotel and the French church as they are the two oldest buildings in the town. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We cross over the Whitson River into Whitson's Gardens. This the section of Chelmsford where I grew up as a young kid. It was the place where a lot of the younger families lived in the 70s. Back in the day, we would be playing out in the bush or riding our bikes throughout the neighborhood. Today, it's eerily quiet. Not one kid was out. The neighborhood has seen better days. We drive onto Goldie Street and I stare at the townhouse where we lived in. My brother was borned shortly after we moved in. It was small but cozy. Eventually we out grew it and moved to the house on Edward Street. On top the hill was the water tower and the jack pines scattered along the rock outcrops. During the summer, I would be in the bush either catching garter snakes or picking blueberries. As with every other place, I would tell my mother about remember that family or that kid I went to school with. We drive up Errington Street and there's the post office and one of the grocery stores. Not to my surprise the Chinese restaurant Chew's is still open. The hardware another fixture of the town is still there. We get to highway 144 and head north to see the High Falls in Onaping.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Back in the 70s and 80s, there were still a lot of people working in the mining industry. But as time went on, the mines didn't need as many people working there. As people retired, some stayed and others left. As teenager I felt like living in Chelmsford was too isolated. I was confined to the valley. When I got my driver's licence it became more bearable as I was able to venture to Sudbury. But, I wanted to remove my shackles. When we went to Toronto, I was at awe of the size of the city. The different types of people and cultures. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I graduated from high school I went to college in southern Ontario.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I had </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">big dreams. Some of classmates went out of town and others went to either Cambrain College or Laurentian University. A few returned, but the majority of us never looked back. But I'll never forget my roots. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After seeing the falls, we drive through Chelmsford and I wonder if the citizens of the town will try to save the school. The Northland Hotel, Canadian Tire, and Tim Horton's will be there long after I'm gone. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Tuesday morning, we leave the hotel and I stop to fill up at the gas station. The clerk notices my U.S credit card and asks what brings me to Sudbury. I tell him I was here to spread my father's ashes and I brought my American girlfriend to show where I grew up. We talked for a little a bit and he asked if I would come back and I shrugged and replied "Not sure." When I got back in the car, my girlfriend asked what I was saying to the clerk. I told her we talked about spreading my Dad's ashes and if I would come back. She said it would be nice to check up on the tree. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I glanced over and smiled, but I didn't respond. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For some us we never go back to the place were we grew up. For others, it's the nostalgia. If my father didn't want his ashes to be spread back home, then 2009 probably would have been my last trip back home. However, I do have a lot of fond memories of my home town. It was an important part of my life. It shaped me for who I am. The surrounding bush and lakes is why I went to a natural resources school. I had a love for the natural environment and if I grew up in a city I would most likely be doing something else. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As for coming back? I have no idea. My brother is the closest living 4 hours away. My mother still has friends back in Sudbury and Chelmsford. But she getting older and eventually one day she won't be able to do it. Will the tree be there in ten, twenty, or fifty years? I still remember receiving the call from my mother when she told that my father was being taken off life support. I was stunned but I felt emotionless. Ever since they moved out west, I rarely talked to my father. If I did it was brief. His death didn't leave me any closure. There were still questions that needed to be answered.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We turned onto the highway 69 and head south. I looked in the rearview mirror and see the last views of the Sudbury. Inside my head, I said farewell to home. </span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-23043571616854193282019-08-25T10:18:00.002-04:002023-01-15T19:37:26.005-05:00The Ethical Angler<div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">I</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">'ve always considered myself to be an ethical angler. During my time in boy scouts, I first learned about appreciating and respecting the natural environment. That we were to be the stewards of the land and water for future generations to enjoy and preserve. I applied that philosophy when it came to fishing. I was taught early on about the old saying "catch your limit, but limit your catch". That was more evident when I would fish the small brook trout streams where I grew up outside of Sudbury, Ontario. The streams were small and the number of trout in them was few and far between, due to the easy access of old logging roads. It was hard to fathom it considering the number of lakes, rivers, and creeks found around my home town. But many of those of the places suffered from the decades of overfishing and degradation of the surrounding environment. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;">As I grew older, I became a catch and release angler.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-size: 16px;"> I would try to do the little things such as pick up litter or volunteer with annual clean ups. Anything to help make the environment a better place for everyone whether they fished or not. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">I would describe myself as an angler that follows a strict moral code. </span><span style="color: #222222;">The code I follow is basically like the ten commandments </span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt not fish redds</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt not litter</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt give my fellow anglers space</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt respect landowner's property</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt respect the rules and regulations set by the state I'm fishing in</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt respect the environment</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt practice catch and release</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt respect the steelhead</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt fish responsibly</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;">Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain whenever I get skunked or lose the state record steelhead</span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">Being ethical goes deeper than the rules and regulations. It comes from the heart and soul and who you are as a person. Either you have ir or you don't, that's how I view it. Because, </span><span style="color: #222222;">nearly every outing I see some type of unethical behavior. People not picking up their litter or not respecting an angler's space. Then there's the behavior that I find really disturbing. Seeing the bodies of fish thrown away just for the eggs or snagging fish off the redds.</span><span style="color: #222222;"> I've also seen a parent fishing in a unethical way with a child next to them. In my head, I want to lecture those anglers that it's</span><span style="color: #222222;"> wrong. But the rational side of me, knows that I'll be either engaged in a war of words or even worse fists. What can I do? That's the dilemma that I have to deal with whenever I see something that I view as morally wrong. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So how does the ethical angler makes his fishing community better? By setting an example to others. Ask if you can fish below another angler. That person might appreciate that gesture. Every angler wants to be treated with respect. Pick up litter in front of other anglers. Volunteer to help with annual river clean ups. The Cleveland metro parks does a fantastic job as they have their annual clean ups on the Rocky River. The Ohio Central Basin Steelheaders is another local club that has river clean ups. Both also have events to introduce potential anglers to the fishery and they stress education and conservation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222;">If there's one group that I try to target that is the younger generation. I try to teach them ethical sportsmenship and respecting the environment. They'll be the ones asked to preserve and protect it once I hang up the pole. The environment they'll be inheriting is going through changes as we speak</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">. Invasive species, loss of habitat, and pollution are threatening Lake Erie and the other Great Lakes. Algae blooms are occurring more, weather patterns are more erratic, and some fish populations are declining. </span><br /><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">As an angler it does worry me that the younger generation is losing it's connection with the outdoors. When I was a youngster, I didn't have a computer or a smartphone. During the 70s before cable, we had two channels in Ontario, one in English and the other in French. To stay active, I spent a lot of time in the bush or on the water. During that time, I started to </span><span style="color: #222222;">appreciate this wonderful resource that I had. As I gotten older and wiser, I learned that any resource shouldn't be taken for granted. Steelhead Alley's unique fishery is dependent on the number of licenses purchased as the streams can't support a sustainable fishery. How the fishery will survive and continue to grow is educating the next generation, teaching them ten commandants I that follow. It's that simple. </span><br /><span style="color: #222222;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222;">Angling ethics is not a problem belonging to another person; it's a problem that belongs to all of us.</span></span></div>
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Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-72025398145735731242019-08-11T08:36:00.001-04:002019-09-01T09:08:14.493-04:00The Steelhead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFXE3npPGMEmRbpnhgW5T8vGoedM0TRybxAy7YDwjobHGqG6YbILROUofs-vb4M7YvxOl79FL3_7aLZswxRQ1QWI4jSc2b-taoWAUwxkTtgAf2ixLcw-QIl_TzHz3LDyVpy7Ec6Vf1HBQ/s1600/thesteelhead+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img alt="steelhead" border="0" data-original-height="778" data-original-width="1037" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnFXE3npPGMEmRbpnhgW5T8vGoedM0TRybxAy7YDwjobHGqG6YbILROUofs-vb4M7YvxOl79FL3_7aLZswxRQ1QWI4jSc2b-taoWAUwxkTtgAf2ixLcw-QIl_TzHz3LDyVpy7Ec6Vf1HBQ/s640/thesteelhead+%25281%2529.jpg" title="The steelhead" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The steelhead is sleek and silver. Much like the contours of an exotic sport car that was painstakingly created. The body is sturdy, the upper back is a gun metal grey and pure silver along the sides. The tail, is oversized and powerful, as exaggeratedly proportioned to its size as are the fish's speed and power. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Out in the vast expanses of Lake Erie, the steelhead searches for food. Gaining the weight necessary for the long duration in streams found along the lake. Some enter the river in early fall and others in the spring. During that time, they under go changes. The females darken and their bellies get bigger as the eggs inside develop. The males also darken, their cheeks turn red, their bellies turn charcoal, and their jaws elongate. During that time they patiently wait in the depth of the pools. They endure the frigrid temperatures of winter. There they wait for the longer days when the waters warm enough for the females to move onto the gravel and spawn. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When I first moved to Ohio in 1998, I didn't even know the state stocked them. Back in my native Canada, I never really fished for them as the closest steelhead streams were the ones that flowed into Lake Superior. That was a little too far for a college student that had a less than reliable car and the lack of funds to make the journey. I watched several anglers on the Chagrin River and they either employed a fly rod or used a spinning reel. I opted for the fly rod because that's what I used for brook trout back home. It took a lot of trail and error and picking the brains of the more seasoned anglers. I still remember the first steelhead I caught, which happened to be a small skipper. There was this great sense of pride that this little fish took my feeble looking zonker. That planted the seed and overtime grew into a life time of passion.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A steelhead fights with a ferocity that other fish can't rival. The walleye is a slug and the smallmouth bass is more a scrapper. With sizzling runs, steelhead will often wreck themselves jumping from the water. But others are more methodical. They'll stubbornly stay on the bottom, refusing to yield. When we bring them in close, they unleash a powerful surge back into the river. It becomes a battle of attrition. Sometimes the battle is won by a simple head shake or a in your face leap and we just stand there either miffed at loss of focus or we tip our cap.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The steelhead can be a puzzling creature. Despite our decades of knowledge, these fish can be maddening. Conditions can be perfect and we didn't even get a bump. We tirelessly work the water. Going from pool to pool, we change colors and patterns and still nothing. The day ends with one or two fish and we head home scratching our heads at what did we do wrong. Then there's the times when aggressively strike at anything you offer. It doesn't matter what you offer them, they'll eagerly take it. The numbers start to pile up and you're in disbelief at the number of them landed. There seems to be no middle ground with them. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's been nearly 20 years here on the Alley. I was the green steelheader that no experience. During that time, I've logged countless of hours on the rivers. There was a lot of frustration but I was determined. I studied the rivers with great attention. Lost count of the miles I walked through the woods or along the streams. It didn't matter if it was freezing cold, lake effect snows, or blistering heat. I was always somewhere starting from September until May. I've develop a great respect for the steelhead. It's a worthy opponent that has humbled me numerous times. The steelhead is truly a magnificent fish.</span></span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-43849803454832415842019-06-09T17:09:00.000-04:002019-06-09T17:09:30.533-04:00A Break From Steelheading<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVs6ekaREidrvuBzyY5AcqiWBZznogajsVZtTnrr29Z3eZaOPLrEmszJz421Sf3jUgWgFhRIGUBjnnc3frZVcfNlCNasFW2FOamk8hl2mi8MRlEVXu1CmeNplRMeg0tDSttfj-vpMyfEz/s1600/takingabreak.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoVs6ekaREidrvuBzyY5AcqiWBZznogajsVZtTnrr29Z3eZaOPLrEmszJz421Sf3jUgWgFhRIGUBjnnc3frZVcfNlCNasFW2FOamk8hl2mi8MRlEVXu1CmeNplRMeg0tDSttfj-vpMyfEz/s400/takingabreak.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Is that a friggin gar??"</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I curse under my breath as I watch a couple of them cruise by me. Just the sight of them is a pretty good excuse to call it a season. A few days before a little birdie told me that a couple of guys were catching some walleyes on the lower end of the Rocky. Eager at the chance of getting some, I was a couple of days too late. By now the river was clearing and there was practically no flow. Before the arrival of the gars, the month of May was one of the wettest since 1953 and it was cool enough that late arrivals found perfect conditions and lingered after spawning. Ever since I lived here, it was one of the best late season steelheading I've ever had. I took full advantage of the fishing as many of my fellow steel headers decided to call it quits weeks ago. It was more than I needed to get it out of my system because more than often, I go into fasting mode once I toss the gear in the corner.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Summer is when I take a break from fishing. I know that sounds crazy. Nearly every person I know waits with great anticipation to head out onto the big pond for walleye, bass, or perch. Others make their annual pilgrim to Canada for lakers or pike. It's a combination of being burned out chasing steelhead since last September and I need to make up for all times that I conked out on my girlfriend after a long day on the river. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So what do I do during the off season?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">If I'm in the mood, I'll head over to the Vermilion to fish for channel cats in late May or early June. The lower Vermilion has plenty of deep holes and pools for cats to spawn in. Before making the trip, I'll go to the grocery store and haggle with one of the clerks working the seafood department asking what's the oldest shrimp on display. I often get a bewildered look when I ask and then that blank stare is gone when I tell them it's bait for catfish. With shrimp in hand, I let it stew on the counter for hours, the funkier, the better. Cats love the smell of rotting shrimp. The other available big quarry is carp. I've been dabbling in fly fishing for them, but ever since that virus swept through Lake Erie, the carp population got hit hard and there isn't as many as before. I've been spoiled by the hard-charging and violent fights of the steelhead that catfish and carp aren't quite up to the task. Call me a snob or an elitist, but my heart lies with the steelhead and I'm quite content to wait out the summer. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Summer is when I'm the busiest with work. The last thing I want to do is be out on the water after a day being out in the field when the sun is scorching and the humidity is stifling. Most of the time I just don't have the time because I pursue my other passion which happens to be running and once steelheading season starts, I toss the sneakers into the closest. I love to run through the metropark in the evening. It releases a lot of the stress of dealing with a busy schedule. It refreshes the mind and cleanses the soul. The weekends are devoted to spending time with my significant other. She's a saint that puts up with my passion and I try to make up the time, by taking her out for dinner on a patio somewhere in Cleveland or lying on the hammock in the evening and listen to the chorus of tree frogs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Whenever I enter my office, there's all of my gear is scattered about. The waders and jacket are hanging up. The waders need a patching job as there are several leaks that need attention. The jacket needs a wash and coating of water repellant and the cleats on my boots are worn to a nub. But, I'm procrastinating. I always do it every year. I could devote an evening to do it, but I keep telling myself that I have all summer. You would think it would be so easy, but it's not. More than often I just forget or I don't pay attention until something like my feet are freezing because that little leak has finally turned into a bigger one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We all need a break from our passions and pursues. As much as I love steelheading, I start to get burned out and in some cases jaded from catching so many. I know my wallet takes a beating and I fret that I'm going over my mileage limit on my car's lease. Then there's the times when I loathe sitting at the table and tying sac after sac. I look at the time and it's almost midnight and I'll be on the road in five hours driving almost a 100 miles. Over the season it starts to add up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After the 3rd week of May, I start my fasting from steelheading and when the cool winds come across Lake Erie in the fall, I start to feel that hunger come back.</span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-6162847637311341902019-05-27T08:55:00.008-04:002023-02-05T19:48:20.150-05:00Spring Steelhead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-xxMA9dPJdNmcnu6jkDlk05iYbblunsONAWZaZCUNQTF1qBUUUrsVYgmqCEbwhn6z_UgTJ8FBMpLTRkMt1bqO_GVp5rTRRA0fvjvsUryuidbhZUWLCu_547gr-BpdLLuCk0wqW0j4DNr/s1600/IMG_1699.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="fishing Rocky River" border="0" data-original-height="1225" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW-xxMA9dPJdNmcnu6jkDlk05iYbblunsONAWZaZCUNQTF1qBUUUrsVYgmqCEbwhn6z_UgTJ8FBMpLTRkMt1bqO_GVp5rTRRA0fvjvsUryuidbhZUWLCu_547gr-BpdLLuCk0wqW0j4DNr/s400/IMG_1699.jpg" title="Rocky River" width="400" /></a></div>
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The lifeless landscape starts to slowly awaken after a long winter. The trilliums, skunk cabbage, and bluebells are the first to poke through the forest floor. As the days get longer and warmer, the entire forest floor is a carpet of green. The willows and dogwoods are usually the first trees to sprout their leaves. Long gone is the bitter cold and waiting for the rivers to unthaw. I rejoice that the days are getting longer. But, it also signs that the season will eventually come to an end.<br />
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Spring is a time when I'm starting to get burned out by chasing steelhead. Getting up early, making the long drives out, and walking the endless miles to sate my appetite for them. My SUV reeks of musty waders and boots. The floor is littered with wrappers from the endless supply of protein bars I've eaten. It needs a good cleaning and detox when I finally call it quits which honestly I can never give an answer. Trips are often close to home as I really don't have the energy to make the drive to Conneaut or Ashtabula. I'm content fishing the Rock after work. There's always plenty of room because the majority of anglers are raking the redds. Yes, I hate the practice of flossing fish. But, it certainly frees up a lot of spots.<br />
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Dropbacks are my primary target. After spawning, they're lean and mean. They'll aggressively hit any offering you throw out at them. Despite looking famished and beaten up, they fight incredibly hard. They'll rip off line with relative ease. Many times I have had drop backs launch themselves out of the water and recklessly charge downstream.<br />
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With the days getting longer, I can now make the trips out east after work. But spring brings unpredictable weather along Steelhead Alley. Temperatures one day can be in the 40s and a couple of days later rocket into the 70s or even the 80s. With wild fluctuations, that usually means thunderstorms. Severe storms can quickly turn a lazy flowing river into a torrent of raging muddy waters. One river that is susceptible to unpredictable weather is the Grand. I've seen in past years, the Grand going the entire spring unfished because the river could never make down to fishable levels. It would tease us as the level would gradually go down. At times it was so slow, it was maddening<br />
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<i>"She might fish in a couple of days.............I hope"</i><br />
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I would be frothing at the mouth at the number of fish to be had. But, then a storm would dump rain and she would go out of her banks and another week was shot.<br />
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Knowing that my window of fishing would be closing for the Grand, I made the trip out after work. My home river was low and the resident fish were beyond beaten up either by spawning or repeatedly being caught. With my unpredictable work schedule, I was hoping to finish at three so I could beat the traffic heading out of Cleveland. It turned out I left work at four, but the flow of traffic heading to Lake County was steady without any delays. The weather report was calling for rain later tonight and there was enough that it probably blow the Grand out for the rest of the season.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrR586v-hnsQxdnWepnf-2SLUYD1f1smJ-coeJcMUFK1n5Yn4L6mYZCEJMCjcRk62NqJ0ykzhTnBpMbEP4syFuZD_6Km0Sq8gj0bqmi9VXzGKM1sPYX8P9IlP4dcW389lmAnepUaoVbsaG/s1600/IMG_1701.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rocky River metropark" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrR586v-hnsQxdnWepnf-2SLUYD1f1smJ-coeJcMUFK1n5Yn4L6mYZCEJMCjcRk62NqJ0ykzhTnBpMbEP4syFuZD_6Km0Sq8gj0bqmi9VXzGKM1sPYX8P9IlP4dcW389lmAnepUaoVbsaG/s400/IMG_1701.jpg" title="Rocky River" width="400" /></a></div>
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When it comes to fishing dropbacks, I'll head to sections that have gravel. They tend to linger off the beds and recuperate. I arrive at one of the metro parks and as I head down to the river I see a couple of fish in the feeder creek. The creek is barely six feet wide and gin clear. They bolt for cover under a downed tree. It's not a far walk and I see the mud littered with footprints. The feeder creek barely makes to the river. The water here is cleaner as the two bodies of water meet. The Grand with its clay-based stain meeting the clear waters of the two feeder creeks. The two mix the water into a light tea colored stain. The bottom of the river is mostly rocks mixed with gravel. It's a prime spawning spot and a magnet for spey fishermen as the river is wide enough and fast flowing for them to swing their streamers.<br />
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I see a cluster of anglers fishing the shallows, there's plenty of open water downstream. I walk past a couple of them and wade halfway out. The river is flowing at a good rate as the water here is well oxygenated. Dropbacks prefer slower deeper water, but there's isn't any here. From knowledge, I know that dropbacks will hang near the high bank. The speed of the bubbles is a dead giveaway. I adjust the float and pull out a pink uncured salmon egg. They've been tearing up salmon eggs for the past few weeks and it doesn't take long to hook into the first fish. The float gets ripped under fast and I set the hook. The fish surges and the fight is over quickly as the fish tosses the hook. I make some more adjustments and I feather the float back to have the sac is in front. Another lighting fast take and the fish tosses the hook. The flow is strong enough that it often tears the hook out. I continue to lose fish as I'm either too fast or too slow setting the hook. But I really don't care, because I don't want to stress the fish and secondly I lost my hemostats.<br />
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I continue to shuffle down working the lumber and I have another take and this time I have a solid hook up. The fish launches itself out of the water numerous times. With 8 pound test, I quickly muscle it in. The fish turns out to be small spawned out hen. She has all the signs of spawning. Worn out tail, scars on her belly and of course a couple flies stuck on her. I pull the flies out and quickly let her go. I make my way farther down and pick off some fish. It doesn't seem there's a lot of fish here. It's been a major complaint this season that the numbers are off and the size of the fish have been small. There's been plenty of bitching about this latest strain of steelhead that Ohio has been stocking. We all fell in love with the large brutish Manistees for several years. But then the state switched to the Chambers Creek and Ganaraska strains. The newest strain was generally 22" to 26" in length and anything over 30" was extremely rare. I can't remember the last time I caught a fish over 30". We have our theories and I suspect that the numbers are low and the size of the fish smaller is the result of a lack of forage out in the lake. This season, I haven't seen one emerald shiner in the streams. Usually, in the fall or the spring, massive schools of them head into the lower sections. You can blame the gazillion zebra mussels that compete with the shiners for food. Also there's a record number of walleye in the lake now. That 1-2 combination is enough to knockout the current shiner population. Those record numbers of walleye also have a hankering for smolts.<br />
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I continue to plug away as I pick off some fish until I finally reach the end of the line. The river here is too shallow to hold fish. I cross over and fish another section below the cliffs. I bemoan this spot because, in past years, it held a lot of dropbacks because it was deeper. Today, debris has filled it in and altered the flow. This is life along Steelhead Alley. Mud banks get dug out and gravel and sand move about. It's a constant relearning the rivers. We all share stories of about our favorite holes and pools. But over time we find new ones. Last month I stumbled onto it and found it held a lot of fish. Due to the gravel and rocks above, the river turned slightly and dug out a channel along the bank. The flow was ideal and the depth was enough to conceal fish.<br />
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There were plenty of dropbacks here and it was a mix of acrobatics leaps and sizzling runs. I check the time and it's past 6:30, I have about another hour, but there's rain heading my way. I cross over and fish another spot. This is also new as when they rebuilt the train trestle and removed all of the lumber and the support stands. Now the river has flattened out. I cast into sections that flow around the numerous rocks in the water. I have two more fish fall for pink sacs and I catch the first male. Just like the females, they show the rigors of spawning. In the past, I've caught some large males sporting nasty wounds from fighting with other males of equal size. This smaller male had some sores but not from fighting as he would be severely wounded if he did get caught in the jaws of the dominant male.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxnxzRCwZ83duHufC5eG1X-dT4ijeip_yQQuYPfw4mP1D_sBYlNJYYNDikdNdWEPknSYPZYG_slSo56StEH3r35iVkf-9hpTj5hQtiw7cPcMIaa5nXyd57AVhs7P9DKQeec10ri5KB95t/s1600/IMG_1704.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rocky River metropark" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxnxzRCwZ83duHufC5eG1X-dT4ijeip_yQQuYPfw4mP1D_sBYlNJYYNDikdNdWEPknSYPZYG_slSo56StEH3r35iVkf-9hpTj5hQtiw7cPcMIaa5nXyd57AVhs7P9DKQeec10ri5KB95t/s400/IMG_1704.jpg" title="Rocky River " width="400" /></a></div>
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As expected there's no fresh fish caught, probably because I'm farther upriver. Late arrivals often spawn at the first gravel they find. The fish I caught last fall, probably spawned weeks or even last year. Whatever the case, they're long gone. When the rivers swell, they lazily ride back to the lake. But it's still late April and there's always the last minute spawners that sneak into the rivers. I wouldn't be shocked if there were still fish in the rivers well into May. As long as the weather stays cool and the waters don't warm up too fast. By now most of the steelheaders I know, have stowed the gear away for the season. Only the diehards remain out, fishing until the very last days. For me, the true sign that the steelhead season is over is when the gars start showing up on the lower sections. By then the waters are too warm and the steelhead will retreat the depths of Lake Erie. There they eventually return to their silver color and roam the vast distances in the lake seeking food to replenish the lost weight. Only until the days start getting shorter do they start to come back to the rivers.<br />
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The skies are getting dark and the wind is whipping around. I check the weather and I can see the rain just west of me. The entire western part of the state is covered in dark green and yellows on the rain band. I have a feeling that it enough to blow the river out and who knows when I'll get another chance to fish the Grand. There was another spot that I wanted to fish, but there isn't enough time, it will be dark soon. As I walk back, I see that everyone is gone. The rain starts to pelt me as I walk up the feeder creek. I undress quickly and the rain falling harder. It's almost dark when I get on I-90 and head back to Rocky River. The ride is quiet as the only sound is the wipers and the rain. It's a time to unwind. This will be most likely to be my last trip to the Grand.<br />
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In another week it will be May and I'm sure there will be fish. My supply of eggs is getting low as I have just enough to get me through until the bait shop gets salmon eggs in October. There have been times when I can't resist and I'll break out a pack of eggs.<br />
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<i>"Just one more trip"</i><br />
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Famous last words from a diehard<br />
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As I said, the weather is so unpredictable. Next month can be cool and the conditions might be enough to keep some of the fish in the rivers. But that also means the state will be stocking smolts and I'm very reluctant to fish because I don't want to harm the next generation.<br />
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But my passion is too strong and I'll fish to the bitter end and curse the sight of the gars.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-43730929472759318282019-03-31T17:05:00.000-04:002019-03-31T17:05:54.659-04:00Weather Junkie<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKjr4hKW1t0mwRAoDn-CNnnnXI9Kj15XblzAjQc98UGwDoQHgtoqksbpNw7LxMzOL87G4XYUXMX7dNb9RZQYNJGS4J9kDnHixzrg2IEJDqkDYcjEF7b35Rjw5q3PPlPgRS5fPMxDytc33/s1600/weather-accurate-forecast-captain-obvious-1000126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1599" data-original-width="1600" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOKjr4hKW1t0mwRAoDn-CNnnnXI9Kj15XblzAjQc98UGwDoQHgtoqksbpNw7LxMzOL87G4XYUXMX7dNb9RZQYNJGS4J9kDnHixzrg2IEJDqkDYcjEF7b35Rjw5q3PPlPgRS5fPMxDytc33/s400/weather-accurate-forecast-captain-obvious-1000126.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Weather and fishing go hand in hand. As a youngster, I remember hearing the old sayings when comes about fishing and weather patterns</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Wind out the east the fish bite the least</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>Wind out the west, fish bite best</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>Wind out of the north, don't venture forth</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i>
<i>Wind of the south, blows the bait into the fishes mouth</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But for some of us it becomes an obsession especially during the steelhead season. I fall into the compulsive weather junkie category. During the season especially days before the weekend or my vacation, I constantly check the weather much to the amusement of my girlfriend. But she doesn't understand and I'm not the only one afflicted with it, far from it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I break into a sweat when I see there's rain coming for the upcoming weekend. I pull the phone out and check the report </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Showers this evening, becoming a steady rain overnight. Chance of rain 100%. Rainfall near a half an inch</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'll play the radar and click on the future tracking. There's a path of yellow and dark green that will pass right over us. Every few hours, I'll update the report in the hope that the chance of rain diminishes. This will play out over the next day as I try to predict to where I should fish. The smaller streams tend to blow out quickly, while the Grand might a day to blow out. I fret about whether should I pull some eggs out because every junkie knows that the weather reporting is as accurate as me filling out my NCAA men's basketball bracket.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Periods of rain throughout the day. Chance of rain 80%. Rainfall near a quarter inch </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A little better, but I continue to analyze the path of the rain. I check the hourly totals to see how much will fall. Of course it doesn't help that I have a couple weather apps on my phone and most of the time, the two of them have conflicting reports adding to the stress. Christ, I'm so fucking pathetic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But there's a reason behind why I do it, because I consider myself the savvy steelheader</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">( even though my girlfriend thinks I'm neurotic ) because I diligently monitor both real time and projected weather patterns. It all boils down that I want the best chance of hooking into fish. Because the weather along the Alley can be chaotic whether it's October, January, or April. I've witness wild swings in temperatures going from the 60s and a few days later dropping into the 30s. I've seen 2' of snow only to be completely gone in a matter of a week. Streams freezing over, thawing, and refreezing in a month.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The junkie knows that frigid overnight temperatures usually spells slush in the morning. Why bother getting up at the crack of dawn only see a river clogged with it. I'll sleep in and wait for the afternoon. The same can be said in late fall when there's a front coming through gusting winds will litter the stream with leaves. Or if the temperatures for the upcoming weekend are be sunny and in the upper 60s, I'll head upstream and fish the remote sections because I don't want to deal with the army of fair weather fishermen. Back when I had my Jeep I often made the drive out east when lake effect snow were in forecast because I knew a lot of anglers wouldn't even dare make the drive out. Sadly my Jeep succumbed to father rust and today I have a crossover that isn't quite up to the task of tearing through a foot of snow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Every stream along the Alley has their "sweet spot" some clear within a matter of days and others take a week. When everything blows out after a rainfall, I have a good idea where to go. There's been times albeit rare that I had to resort to ditch fishing. But I tell anglers new to steelheading that there's always somewhere to fish along the Alley.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But we all know that predicting the weather isn't an exact science. I don't know how many times I got burned because I thought everything would be blown out for the weekend only to see the storms shifted south or north or not enough rain fell. So I'll have to wake up at four in the morning and hastily tie eggs. Other times I take a day off in advance and I'm driving a 100 miles into Pennsylvania because everything in Ohio is blown out and I also have to shell out money for a fishing license, because the storm that was supposed to miss us decided to park itself over Northeastern Ohio and dump a ton of rain. <span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-size: 16.799999237060547px;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The things we'll do just catch some fish.</span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-56204420845286702212019-02-09T21:18:00.000-05:002019-02-10T18:09:59.180-05:00Fishing Gear<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgkFSH4Z0JJkKpzpCIRpR4D0SX-a-Vid7CJ8ULl8K4O1VBftrtLLNSViNRWEIjxEihZ4UogbEHDgpp-Rn0RmyLfe9vUU6VhB1OYtenp_LKoCE3nZrTdnt8SPF026UBtr9ex3nl5TClylIZ/s1600/IMG_1563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kingpin Imperial 475 model" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgkFSH4Z0JJkKpzpCIRpR4D0SX-a-Vid7CJ8ULl8K4O1VBftrtLLNSViNRWEIjxEihZ4UogbEHDgpp-Rn0RmyLfe9vUU6VhB1OYtenp_LKoCE3nZrTdnt8SPF026UBtr9ex3nl5TClylIZ/s400/IMG_1563.jpg" title="Centerpin reel" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">An angler's gear defines him. I see guys on the rivers sporting the most expensive set up running over a $1000.00 in some cases. Others have equipment that looks like it was abandon at the river's edge. But, there's a collection of stories or memories attached to every single of them. It could be that trip to Northern Canada, Florida, or one of the local streams. It could be that fish of a lifetime caught 20 years ago, or the one that got away. I have plenty stories and memories with my gear going back over 15 years. Some of my reels and rods have been replaced and others are tucked away in a closest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I have a collection of old rods and reels in my place. Some have been in there for years. I could sell them, but I have a special attachment to them. One of them is a John Milner Kingfisher that I purchased from Ebay along with a Raven float rod and collection of floats. I got a great deal as I paid $220.00 for the entire setup. That was close to 15 years ago when centerpinning started taking off along the Alley. The reel was a bushing model that I eventually found out wasn't ideal for the lazy flowing rivers found in Ohio. It was trail and error and a lot of bird's nests as I tried to master the casting it. But eventually I got the hang of it, but I what I needed was a bearing type reel.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I ended up purchasing a Bob James and it was a impulse buy because it was on sale for $250.00. It was beautifully crafted with the nickel silver spokes and the ingenious reel tension screw. However, it did have one major flaw which I overlooked, it was the placement of the handles. They were at the edge of the reel. With a centerpin there's no drag and in my case, I use my fingers to slow it down. What happened was the handles would bang into my fingers. I tried using my palm, but I never liked it. Also the clicker was at a odd position and many times I would accidentally engage it while fighting a fish. After a season, I ended up selling it to some naive kid, but I took a lost selling it for $100.00</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdNKDGtim0HHopN2Zrhqjfp5VD6P8J9-U_9n4xYhy3hwSmzkQfB2wfjvLPJT_8SOaa29uOQ-e5Za2z7umoBVziZWePwDt4z_O2JdOunk493cvOSFkGZC21g7WUGBQbuQTM8bjO94bQC_F/s1600/IMG_1566.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="John Milner Kingfisher bushing reel" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNdNKDGtim0HHopN2Zrhqjfp5VD6P8J9-U_9n4xYhy3hwSmzkQfB2wfjvLPJT_8SOaa29uOQ-e5Za2z7umoBVziZWePwDt4z_O2JdOunk493cvOSFkGZC21g7WUGBQbuQTM8bjO94bQC_F/s400/IMG_1566.jpg" title="Centerpin reel" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This time I did my homework and I bought a reel specifically made for the Great Lakes steelheader. This one was Kingpin Series II and it was my first big time purchase as I shelled out over $500.00 for the best British engineered reel at the time. It was main reel for many years until the next generation of the Kingpin came out and the lighter and thinner 475 model. The weight difference was noticeable compared to the old one. To this date it's been my primary reel and I haven't even thought of getting another one. It's performed flawlessly and withstood my punishment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As for my rods, I had some pretty useless ones at first. They were cheap and often broke because they could handle my abuse. The Raven rod I got from Ebay was a IM8 model and it was too stiff and heavy. I often joked that I could us it for pole vaulting. After a long day my shoulder paid the price. I sold that to another naive newbie. Being done with inferior quality, I laid out the cash and got the Excalibur of float rods, the G Loomis GLX. For $580.00, it was worth every penny. It was so light that I never had issues with my shoulder anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As legend has it, King Arthur broke his Excalibur. Today I'm on my third one. The first one I broke the tip as I whacked it too hard on the water trying to get the ice off the top guides. They sent me a replacement section for $40.00. The second one was when I fell down a bank and the rod hit a rock. Little I did I know at the time I cracked the blank and eventually one outing I caught a snag and the rod snap right above the handle. G Loomis shipped me a brand rod for $120.00 and in the four years I've caught a ton of fish with it. The other rod is my Raven IM6 model which is my backup rod and I've had nothing but problems with it. I've had it break 5 times mostly at the top because the rod can't handle heavy loads and I've noticed it breaks when the temperature is really cold. Right now it's in the closest as I broke the mid section when I tried to beach a large fish. I haven't decided if I want to spend the money to fix again or just chuck it. My only other back up rod is a $40.00 one I bought for my girlfriend's son. He's only used it once and that was over 3 years ago.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2mYosmWCjgdCeosXmDxfmjjeu9r6IFFZoBDIB1_HbcnD1fPxfOQdzHoRuuJgRKehn91naRzrhoSYhlN2THX4TAM5nDUYYqbxOlRpQK9Dy4as-ujcHP883jul2btgXgPgHw7QLFxtL4_7/s1600/IMG_1567.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Kingpin Series 2 reel" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2mYosmWCjgdCeosXmDxfmjjeu9r6IFFZoBDIB1_HbcnD1fPxfOQdzHoRuuJgRKehn91naRzrhoSYhlN2THX4TAM5nDUYYqbxOlRpQK9Dy4as-ujcHP883jul2btgXgPgHw7QLFxtL4_7/s400/IMG_1567.jpg" title="Centerpin reel" width="400" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Buried deep in the recesses of my closest are my fly rods and reels. I have a Redington 7W and a Teton reel. I also have a Redington reel that I used in Michigan over 10 years ago and after a week of epic fights with some surly Kings, the drag got fried. Other than making a great paperweight, it's pretty well useless. The Okuma 10W I bought for $50.00 got blown up on the second last day when I got freight trained by a huge fish. I can't remember when I last used the fly rod as I was swayed to the darkside of float fishing and never looked back. I have been dabbling fly fishing for carp, but I really never have or wanted to make time fishing in the summer as the Rock can be a grotesque mess of algae and smelly mud. Will I sell my fly rod and reel? Probably not as you never know I might eventually get bored of float fishing, but that's a big maybe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You think I would be happy and proud of my gear, but I have this indifference to them. I toss them in the back of my SUV. I don't gasp whenever I drop my reel on the rocks. I basically treat my gear like that because I can afford it. If you looked at my gear, you would thought I found it in a dumpster. All of my centerpin reels are covered with nicks and scratches. That's a testament of how much I fish for steelhead. The same can be said about my Loomis rod. The cork is filthy, the guides have grooves in them, and blank is coated with whatever it came in contact with. Personally I don't think gear should be all nice and shiny. That's for the vain crowd. By the time the last steelhead have left the rivers, I'll start the long process of scrubbing off all that crap that has accumulated since last September.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everybody's fishing gear will eventually wear out. Some of us don't hesitate and go out and buy more. But guys like me, don't like to part with a faithful old friend. I can see myself on the river when I'm in my 80s fishing with my Kingpin as the newest generation of steelheaders will see the old man fishing with a relic from the early part of the 21st century.</span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-17464599433226596842019-01-23T21:06:00.000-05:002019-08-23T21:38:53.320-04:00Poison Sumac<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There's plenty of hazards when fishing. Slipping on rocks and twisting an ankle, getting a hook in your hand, getting shot at during deer hunting season or getting a nasty case of poison sumac. Every decade or so, I get some bout of poison ivy. The last time was in Salmon River, New York back in 2005. I'm surprised that I don't get it more often as I recklessly charge through the woods. Leaves of three, leave them be? Good luck spotting that in the dark. Now add posion sumac to the list.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLv3p2UXi460P-43CYDUV7XMJH0uE6zRX9vtGOzIQKgBi5ekBOMG4RtCr85uwHXFI6UlTep0fs65MRYGvcIhoCCdrqLUV4jBaxMIlYDzI1MvDRfecqI2AtPh01NzoPJ301BVEMXXAuf9OA/s1600/sumac1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdd7IFKPpafsyLYZhsBbAwSUqYfjofemL66ySirroZuKJ3zT23QDO41_WzgZNpd5T7cDZY_LdouIIYU9YDdhns9768JQRiveIWu2jYuGGs3dTwUpC4278kUAAq8Nuw6vzO8SdRs7Ql8k-8/s1600/sumac1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="blisters from poison sumac" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdd7IFKPpafsyLYZhsBbAwSUqYfjofemL66ySirroZuKJ3zT23QDO41_WzgZNpd5T7cDZY_LdouIIYU9YDdhns9768JQRiveIWu2jYuGGs3dTwUpC4278kUAAq8Nuw6vzO8SdRs7Ql8k-8/s400/sumac1.JPG" title="Poison sumac blisters" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Innocent looking, nothing to worry about right? Just a few blisters, it should go away eventually.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFUi-zXFaZCuUJv5k_7Trrt9qVd0q9nOO8UB2U0CyIP1UnUTJKlCpoMLC3e9lxupsHVWIBaGBv14lnTqAWphb7i4YZbLzW6bRTWdT30ASGyYxIS-NdyZ0GPGo5E_6tZKyB-GYizsVPNlu/s1600/sumac2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="rash from poison sumac" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1198" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFUi-zXFaZCuUJv5k_7Trrt9qVd0q9nOO8UB2U0CyIP1UnUTJKlCpoMLC3e9lxupsHVWIBaGBv14lnTqAWphb7i4YZbLzW6bRTWdT30ASGyYxIS-NdyZ0GPGo5E_6tZKyB-GYizsVPNlu/s400/sumac2.jpg" title="Poison sumac rash" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Uh oh, this is getting worse. I had to go to the drugstore to stock up on calamine lotion, cotton balls, Benadryl and gauze wrapping. It started to itch like a mother.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsi0677rbdmEDP4gPziAuT7tX68SBhJIxoOT01MItjHBQaMQ-jKxtNRONFaVoqc7lYLjF1y7p6_slyUPncPv8evnghyLz6g49INr9KgaSxnMkwcnYTAXDCo1kSdKvt4t946WnmrpCkG0t/s1600/sumac3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="rash from poison sumac" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrsi0677rbdmEDP4gPziAuT7tX68SBhJIxoOT01MItjHBQaMQ-jKxtNRONFaVoqc7lYLjF1y7p6_slyUPncPv8evnghyLz6g49INr9KgaSxnMkwcnYTAXDCo1kSdKvt4t946WnmrpCkG0t/s400/sumac3.jpg" title="Poisone sumac rash" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Holy shit, this is getting nasty. Now I'm googling for remedies and any ideas on how to stop it from spreading. Luckily I had some apple cider vinegar in the cupboard. My bedroom reeks of it. The vinegar does the trick in relieving the itching and drying out the blisters. As for the rash only time will heal it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPv5JVUQs60I6QeTm8mJu4dkLbd2WnewVS0YhaRNdJELAe-cttVP00GEvy9hgHmeDnA-flrw3nUFSgFaIXtGGgriN_yPFv8kClfXDtHBxsadcq0ovYifCKE9WmP2I8Wu5nAY7UzUhcE_z6/s1600/sumac4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="rash from poison sumac" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPv5JVUQs60I6QeTm8mJu4dkLbd2WnewVS0YhaRNdJELAe-cttVP00GEvy9hgHmeDnA-flrw3nUFSgFaIXtGGgriN_yPFv8kClfXDtHBxsadcq0ovYifCKE9WmP2I8Wu5nAY7UzUhcE_z6/s400/sumac4.jpg" title="Poison sumac rash" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You would think that I poured acid on my skin. This is just my forearm. I also had it on my chest as I didn't wash after fishing and napped when I got home. I probably tucked my forearm under my chest. I was lucky that it was a rash and not a festering mess of blisters. Then throw in my histamine attack and right side of my chest is blotchy red. My poor girlfriend won't touch me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvz1glN7w22Y6xpY3tcBeqv3_NNoW4PWq7froy-hgyjq-nwu-IIiVH_ikM8jsJ2OYifzm3Zt44aEqpmKvkyiUb5Xs6oVqp6PZJc3zhGX4Gq3kkOBiaqVfssRex1ah1oHao0xbvr8Dj9xyp/s1600/sumac5.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZNeIgnTFKzLgnYvrXf3u5eigh_JxBJ_H7RZP3F_skzcr4wd8HXjJkfkUOH9wSwMGF8PKEJ9dzhxTYZSHHowDWMpOAYDWhxxUGO0BXQ1gYuECO-ssKfQ59cEOdODdgmAce_qmA9UO5bpU/s1600/sumac5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="poison sumac bush" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlZNeIgnTFKzLgnYvrXf3u5eigh_JxBJ_H7RZP3F_skzcr4wd8HXjJkfkUOH9wSwMGF8PKEJ9dzhxTYZSHHowDWMpOAYDWhxxUGO0BXQ1gYuECO-ssKfQ59cEOdODdgmAce_qmA9UO5bpU/s320/sumac5.jpg" title="Poison sumac" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here's my antagonist - </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Toxicodendron vernix</span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">.</span> This rotten plant that gave me over two weeks of lousy sleep, endless applications of apple cider vinegar, nightly doses of Benadryl, and the nastiest blisters that I've ever had. Three week later my wrist is almost back to normal as there a small hint of red. My chest is getting better as the blotches are barely noticeable. Just this past weekend I was on Conneaut Creek and was shocked see that it grows all along it. For years I've walked right through it, thinking it was just sumac. While not everyone is allergic as I am, just be careful out there. </span></div>
Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-79796065627446339862019-01-20T10:43:00.001-05:002020-03-01T21:04:23.791-05:00Urban Meyer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvG_whTdNxx2A2sDf5fuWq-vAkMopUwAcFc7jCmjdYyGVyacRbY71AogQiwCERBJ1dbqX2MR9ZVHjK9I5fS1WXnovrlfz4-94_M5EnsViTAXRjoHWFwCjmOiIN5VekKINkMI8gHF8Go5_/s1600/Screen+Shot+2019-01-17+at+9.26.04+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Urban Meyer" border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="955" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvG_whTdNxx2A2sDf5fuWq-vAkMopUwAcFc7jCmjdYyGVyacRbY71AogQiwCERBJ1dbqX2MR9ZVHjK9I5fS1WXnovrlfz4-94_M5EnsViTAXRjoHWFwCjmOiIN5VekKINkMI8gHF8Go5_/s640/Screen+Shot+2019-01-17+at+9.26.04+PM.png" title="Urban Meyer" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My lasting image of Urban Meyer was late in the 4th quarter against Michigan. The Buckeyes had pulled off the huge upset of the Wolverines. The score was 62-39 with a little over a minute left to play. They were 1st and goal and fans were egging Urban to score again. The camera pans at Meyer and you can clearly see him thinking about it. Fox analyst Joe Klatt comments</span><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Does he go the Woody Hayes route?"</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Me, the ghost of Woody, and every fan were hoping he would score and go for the two point conversion that would have made the score 70-39. Much to the fan's chagrin, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Urban showed some mercy against his arch-rival and instead instructed his quarterback Dwayne Haskins to take a knee and run the clock out. The game ended and he was a perfect 7-0 against Michigan and winning another Big Ten East title. Jim Harbaugh runs off the field cursing under his breath that Urban once again got the better of him. The fans stormed the field and little did they know it would be his last game at the Shoe. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After winning the Big Ten Championship, Urban announced that he was retiring after the Rose Bowl. The cyst inside his brain was causing too much pain as a result of the stress he endured over the years. This past season was one of the worst during his time at Ohio State. The suspension for the first three games because of his handling of the Zach Smith domestic abuse allegations and his team playing like shit all season long. He once retired from Florida because health related stress, but this time he said it would be for good. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When Meyer was hired in 2012, Ohio State was in a dark place. Jim Tressel had resigned in disgrace and the program had its first losing season since 1988. They were hit with sanctions and banned from postseason play. Urban took a team that had nothing to play for and went 12-0. He turned the Buckeyes into a juggernaut that the Big Ten had never seen before. He brought respectability back to the conference that was once seen as inferior. He recruited nationally and started to mold his team into the one that won two national championships at Florida. Gone was "Tressel Ball" and in its place was an SEC team built for speed and offensive firepower. All that fruition came together in 2014 when he won his 3rd national title. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Meyer was a driven coach who obsessed over the finest details. I lost count the number of times he blew a gasket over a penalty or a missed assignment. Over time it started to take a toll on him. The cyst inside his brain would cause severe headaches whenever he was stressed out. It had been going on for several years, but a lot people didn't know about it. I never knew about the condition until this season. I just remember watching him hunched over, grabbing his head, and looking anguished. He old and worn out. There was something not quite right about him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His last game would be in Pasadena as they were playing Washington in the Rose Bowl. It was fitting because Meyer had never been to the Rose Bowl. They favored to win, but they didn't make it easy as they almost blew the game winning 28-23. He walked into the sunset with an 82-9 record at Ohio State. He left huge shoes to fill for new head coach Ryan Day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The big black cloud hanging over him is the Zach Smith scandal. During his time at Florida mny of his players ran afoul with the police. I thought he handled the Smith affair poorly and it was more ammo for his critics who often called him Urban Liar. Was he perfect? Absolutely not. He had his moments as there were times when I groused and bitched that he was far too loyal to JT Barrett. He also picked the worst time to lay an egg against a team he should have thrashed soundly. That cost him a chance of making it to the playoffs. There were times I thought he was too conservative in play calling and also cost another chance of making it to the playoffs. Then there were questionable coaching hires such as Tim Beck, promoting Ed Warriner to offensive coordinator, Greg Studrawa, and worst of all Bill Davis. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But it was masterful coaching job in 2014 that will leave a lasting impression on Buckeye fans. He took a team that went through a lot at the beginning of the season and had its share of highs and lows. They were underdogs in the playoffs and they pulled off two of the biggest victories in Ohio State history. How he didn't win coach of the year is mind boggling. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">His retirement don't come as a surprise to me. Urban was a very intense coach. He demanded perfection from his players and coaches. Coaches like him often have a short life expectancy as they're prone to burning out. As expected many are saying this just another short term retirement as Meyer will begin to feel better and the competitive urge will be too strong for him ignore. Some think he'll wait when a big time program is looking for new coach. Personally, I think he's done. The cyst can't be removed, his extended family is too important, and his age is a factor now. He's made his mark in college football as one of the greatest. He has nothing left to prove and Harbaugh's chance for beating him is gone forever. </span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-76821777819865957532018-12-04T21:18:00.001-05:002019-04-28T14:01:23.423-04:00Death, Taxes, and Ohio State beating Michigan<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyK7VDjFYa1hipN8noPul9IYI6RZ55Kgduq1G8MMfGWfrjlc4fkpARgqy6cI8wzIF7UJlk_AJG4FG3cDlyBBqTlDttiEmLwv6g5t5XJ0mONCILRDBYenlPSBIzfVyEuA3c1_cQc2UsEbcp/s1600/michigan-fan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="436" data-original-width="640" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyK7VDjFYa1hipN8noPul9IYI6RZ55Kgduq1G8MMfGWfrjlc4fkpARgqy6cI8wzIF7UJlk_AJG4FG3cDlyBBqTlDttiEmLwv6g5t5XJ0mONCILRDBYenlPSBIzfVyEuA3c1_cQc2UsEbcp/s400/michigan-fan.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There's 3 certainaties in life<br />
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Death, taxes and Ohio State beating Michigan<br />
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Michigan is Charlie Brown and Ohio State is Lucy Van Pelt. It became a running gag, because no matter what Michigan did, they could never beat their arch rival. When Jim Harbaugh was a hired, many thought he would be the head coach to stop the beatings. So far the Kahki Jesus is 0-3. </div>
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But this year, it looked like Michigan was finally going to end their long drought and beat the Buckeyes. Ohio State this season was a hot mess. The suspension of Urban Meyer at the beginning of the season laid the foundation of a season littered with chaos. They lose star defensive player Nick Bosa for the season. The defense couldn't stop a runny nose. The offensive line was inconsistent and they suddenly forgot on how to pound the rock. As the season progressed the Buckeyes kept spinning their wheels until they went up against Purdue and the wheels came flying off. They got thrashed by a team that was unranked. Many in Buckeye nation thought it was the end of Urban Meyer. He lost control of his staff and players. It continued to get worse as they barely beat Nebraska and almost lost to Maryland as they couldn't win on a two point conversion in overtime. Even though they were 10-1, they were the worst one loss team in college football. </div>
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The Wolverines were the opposite. After losing to Notre Dame in the season opener, Michigan steam rolled their opponents. The players on the team dubbed their season as the "Revenge Tour" On the schedule where the teams that beat them last season - Wisconsin, Michigan State, and Penn State, all of them humilated Michigan. </div>
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Michigan ended up crushing all of them. The final date was in Columbus and they were licking their chops. Why wouldn't they? Ohio State was mediocre and ready to be taken to the woodshed. Michigan running back Karon Higdon even went out and guaranteed a victory. Some Buckeyes fans didn't have a problem with that, because they felt he was right. I thought they would get runned off the field and I couldn't stomach the thought of watching the "Game".<br />
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Yes, I'm a lousy fan, I'll admit it. </div>
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I was in Boston for Thanksgiving and Saturday afternoon we toured the downtown. I held true to my promise that I wouldn't watch it or even acknowledge it. My girlfriend thought it was amusing as she said </div>
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<i>"It's just a game silly"</i></div>
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Just a game! How dare she mock the "Game" as just a game. But I'm also very superstitious. In the past when I thought Ohio State wouldn't win and I didn't watch the game, guess what? I'm 8-2. </div>
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As we toured the city, I resisted to look at the score. It wasn't breaking into a cold sweat. I was cool and kept myself distracted. It was late afternoon and we're in Mike's Pastry waiting to order cannolis. There was a TV with a game on and I wouldn't look at it. We got our cannolis and outside my girlfriend's uncle said</div>
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<i>"I saw the score of the Ohio State game"</i></div>
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and I said</div>
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He raised his eyebrows and smirked. Was he playing me? Were they get smoked or were they blowing them out? I look at the time and it's almost 4:00 PM, the game should be over soon. The suspense was too much. I pull my phone out and check the score</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">62 - 39</span></div>
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Holy shit. I was stunned as I nearly walked into some people. On the train ride back, I checked the game stats and it was an epic beat down. Haskins torched Michigan's vaunted defense for 396 yards and six touchdowns. The 62 points given up was the most in Michigan's history. The Revenge Tour came to a screeching halt. </div>
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Buckeyes wideout Parris Campbell said earlier in the week, they were lying in the weeds, as the critics and pundits give them no shot at winning. Boy was he right. They took the Wolverines to the cleaners and many Buckeyes fans were wondering why didn't they play like this all season long. </div>
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This is what a rivalry does. But it hasn't been a rivalry since 2000, as Ohio State has beaten Michigan 16 times. It's been a lopsided affair with a mix of close games and blowouts. Harbaugh was looked upon as the savior. After all he took the Niners to the Super Bowl and won three conference titles. He's the highest paid coach in college football and he's now 0-4 against Ohio State, no coach in Michigan history has ever done that.<br />
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Uncle Urbie on the other hand is 7-0 and is clearly in Michigan's head. Him and his staff came up with a brilliant game plan exploiting Michigan's biggest weakness, their lack of speed in the secondary and man coverage. Crossing routes and Ohio State's speedy wideouts killed them. Haskins carved them up like the turkey I eat a couple days ago. It was a thing of beauty.</div>
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Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-20962972820676239042018-11-04T12:16:00.001-05:002018-11-06T19:51:08.051-05:00The Wait for Autumn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The cool winds come across Lake Erie and the days start to get shorter. Flocks of bird stop along the lake to feed and rest as they continue to head to their southern destination. The air in the morning has a hint of crispness and the grass is wet from the dew. The maples and ashes start to turn orange and red. That all should be happening as it's early October, but it isn't. The winds instead are hot and sweltering. The birds are wondering if they should return to Canada. The morning air is thick with humidity and the trees haven't dropped a leaf. Where's autumn as people are asking that?<br />
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But steelhead have been sneaking into the rivers since mid September. I caught fish at the lower end of the Rocky on September 13th, probably the earliest in recent memory. The river was off color from a recent rain and the water temperature was creeping into the upper 60s. The fights were fast and done quickly. There wasn't any hot dogging or quick pictures. They were released quickly and there was a tinge of guilt that I shouldn't be fishing for them because they were at the threshold of dying from a prolonged battle. It was a good evening as I caught seven bright silver bullets. However the weather for the upcoming weekend was going to be hotter. The heat never left for the remainder of the month. The water temps went over the 70 degree mark and I hoped that those fish retreated back into the cooler depths of the lake. I would return to the sidelines and wait it out. There was no rush to get back on the water.<br />
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Autumn is a special time for me. After a long hiatus, I welcome the change. But I start to grow impatient. The heat refuses to leave, but others are enjoying the late summer and many want it to continue as long as possible. I long for the cool nights and the changing of the leaves. My fondest memories are hiking along the rivers and seeing the vibrant colors of the trees against the shale cliffs. In the lake, steelhead start to head towards the mouths of the rivers and creeks. They also patiently wait for the right conditions. Some are more eager than others and move into the lower reaches of the streams. When the water rises they start their journey.<br />
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This morning I cross over the interbelt bridge going into Cleveland and lighting flashes across the city landscape. The wipers move the specks of rain and I'm listening to my music. I head east and the darkness is interupted by more lighting. The air is ripe with humidity as I'm running the air conditioner. Summer stubbornly refuses to yield. The rain starts to intensify and I hear the odd rumble of thunder. I quietly sip my coffee and I'm memorized by the lighting. I finally reach my destination, Conneaut Creek. There's a couple cars park along the road. I get out and I hear the rumbles of thunder over the lake. The air is thick and I see mist coming off the creek. I dress and start to walk down to the creek. All of the tress are still green and I hear the chorus of tree frogs in the surrounding woods. I enter the water and touch it, it feels warm. The water is off color and I wonder how many fish have moved up. Conneaut Creek is unique because it starts in Pennsylvania and flows into Ohio. Both states stock it and the creek is very popular with early season steelheaders as Pennsylvania stocks a fall run strain of steelhead.<br />
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The morning turns into a grind as I slowly get into fish. Not a lot, but enough that I start to explore further up. With the threat of rain, I have to wear to my jacket and I start to become uncomfortable because I'm sweating and starting to get hot. As with every fall, the streams have changed in appearance. The large willow now hangs over the tail end of the pool. Fishing it becomes impossible. The other pool upstream has straighten out and there's a large tree in the middle. Rocks, sand, and gravel are moved about creating different flows and bottoms. It's a constant relearning of the rivers as I bemoan the lost of another favorite spot, only to find another. I fish the riffles, runs, and pools. I get further up and the number of fish caught drops dramatically. It becomes evident that there's not a lot of fish. The sun starts to come out and I decide to head another stream farther west. I crank the air conditioner and crack open a bottle of water that I guzzle the contents entirely.<br />
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I arrive at the Grand and the lot is empty. I down to a dozen sacs so I this will be the only spot I'll fish. I change from a long sleeved shirt to tee shirt. The walk to the river is short and it's surprisingly low and clear which is usual for the Grand. The wind is hot as I stand on the rocks and cast out. With the warm water temperature, the fish will be in the faster oxygen rich waters. Just like with Conneaut, the Grand also doesn't have a lot of fish. I catch 3 steelhead out of the same small run. I have 3 sacs left and I unceremoniously dump them into the water. Look across the river, everything so green that feels more like July than early October. I disassembled the rod and head back to the car. I pull out on the road and I see people walking in shorts or riding their bikes. Autumn seems so far away.<br />
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Eventually it will come. The days are getting shorter and shorter. The heat will give way to the cooler weather from Canada. The leaves will eventually turn and gradually the entire Alley with be a rich collage of reds, oranges, and yellows. Until then, I'll patiently wait for that time.<br />
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<br />Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-83742105105515923012018-09-13T07:02:00.000-04:002019-03-07T13:16:08.772-05:00Steelhead Alley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQmPVmgsaO7__DJR-l_NawdIDJpAdykO_qHmIIBWEpXtErx-ribAnW2rSq6Cs_n9-HAged0qltmHdDvnAGkOJzjStVcUztNP_pwNSNt3LTMm3w4vrlBLf3cZyXPXaHVFhYMOTK6ENsDC3/s1600/IMG_0799.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOQmPVmgsaO7__DJR-l_NawdIDJpAdykO_qHmIIBWEpXtErx-ribAnW2rSq6Cs_n9-HAged0qltmHdDvnAGkOJzjStVcUztNP_pwNSNt3LTMm3w4vrlBLf3cZyXPXaHVFhYMOTK6ENsDC3/s400/IMG_0799.JPG" title="Grand River, Ohio" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Steelhead Alley</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> or the Alley is located along the southern shore of Lake Erie stretching from Vermilion, Ohio all the way to Buffalo, New York. This fishery is unique in the fact that <st1:place>Lake Erie</st1:place> is the most heavily stocked <st1:place><st1:placename>Great</st1:placename> <st1:placetype>Lake</st1:placetype></st1:place> in regards to steelhead. The Alley's streams boast more steelhead per mile than any other watershed in the lower 48 states and <st1:state>Alaska</st1:state> included. The reason for the high numbers of fish is the aggressive stocking programs done by the three states of <st1:state>Pennsylvania, </st1:state><st1:state>New York, </st1:state>and <st1:state>Ohio</st1:state>. Streams along Steelhead Alley can range in size from <st1:state>New York</st1:state>’s mighty Cattaraugus Creek and <st1:state>Ohio</st1:state>’s <st1:place>Grand River</st1:place> to the many small creeks that run into Lake Erie. All of the tributaries are characterized that they run over shale bedrock and are usually shallow. Nearly all of them have little or no groundwater sources and rely on runoff from rain and snow melt. The surrounding terrain and access greatly varies. Some flow through rural areas and others flow through large urban areas such as Greater Cleveland, Ohio. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEZ4BmoACHsqK9boPlgTD27h4A_iV0cG1EPkQYA56QPzkI_SS7sLVl2MytSGwNHHxcFBgXdxIupWEUb9ERqI7xHgS-2ajVOMTSDPkaSWHkleZRPIgY2hnnuDfLBojS-mJkcYC9Si_z-pA/s1600/hogsbackridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="908" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiEZ4BmoACHsqK9boPlgTD27h4A_iV0cG1EPkQYA56QPzkI_SS7sLVl2MytSGwNHHxcFBgXdxIupWEUb9ERqI7xHgS-2ajVOMTSDPkaSWHkleZRPIgY2hnnuDfLBojS-mJkcYC9Si_z-pA/s400/hogsbackridge.jpg" title="Grand River, Ohio" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "georgia";">The Alley is the southernmost range for steelhead in North America and they’ve adapted well </span></o:p>to Lake Erie. The fertile waters provide them with ample food and the warmer water temperatures fuel their growth. A couple years in the lake and they return as 3 to 4 pound fish. The three states Pennsylvania, Ohio, and New York combined stock over a million smolts into their respective tributaries. There has been cases of natural reproduction, but the numbers are too low to sustain a fishery. Once the smolts are enter the lake, they run the gauntlet of predators and many of them fall prey to them. Those that survive will enter the streams either in the fall or spring. For fall run fish, some will enter the lower sections of the streams in September and October. Spring run fish will come up in the months of March and April. The best times to fish are in the months of October thorough to December. The months of January and February can be hit or miss as in some years the winters are severe enough to freeze over the streams. Once spring arrives, many of the fish hit the gravel to spawn which is usually done in late March into April. Once spawning is done, steelhead start to head back to the lake. By late April into early May, there’s a few stragglers hanging around. By then the streams are far too warm for them. On average Lake Erie steelhead run about 4 to 6 pounds and any fish over 10 pounds is considered a trophy.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRpsVo74K4Qatmlak3JV1QfIuBEsBP4q00zdC8m1BHCLqovECZwm5LO6H85wrT6QQE_IdYhJ94icjbty255Kg_kPL7AuDe_Pxv7xfv5P6GEwVkGUkHbPg_YgAX9T9AnkMhdFsJRdtRtKn/s1600/DSC01402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="908" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLRpsVo74K4Qatmlak3JV1QfIuBEsBP4q00zdC8m1BHCLqovECZwm5LO6H85wrT6QQE_IdYhJ94icjbty255Kg_kPL7AuDe_Pxv7xfv5P6GEwVkGUkHbPg_YgAX9T9AnkMhdFsJRdtRtKn/s400/DSC01402.jpg" title="Cattaraugus Creek, New York" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Steelhead Alley’s streams are unique. They normally flow low and clear, and after receiving precipitation or melt off from snow most with the exception of the Cattaraugus and Grand have a very fast run off rate. All of them run over shale bedrock mixed in mud, gravel, rock, and sand areas. The angler can expect a wide variety as the streams will flow along high shale cliffs, clay banks and through riverine forests. Stream flow during post run off events consist of shallow runs, riffles, pools and pocket water. Pools of great depth and length are very rare and average 2 to 4 feet deep. Run off rates vary widely, depending on the size of each tributary watershed. The Grand River in Ohio and Cattaraugus Creek in New York both have the largest drainage area of the Lake Erie streams. It’s not usually for these streams take 2 to 3 weeks to become fishable after run off. On average after run off most streams along the Alley will take 3 to 5 days to come down and the smallest of creeks it can be less than 24 hours.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdn-D7nFPoCiuhOaYPyLPZ2kArOspnl0rRBuxorUSiXMP5C6EcZ28v7f80R_KKW9OdWuikHa8-R-vOkZJgJ7OIyqdmNbw9BX2EFwHx04NIsOCWuLGNnFcSWTb89Y-zIAwcsr5cGsWnb6ze/s1600/conneaut9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdn-D7nFPoCiuhOaYPyLPZ2kArOspnl0rRBuxorUSiXMP5C6EcZ28v7f80R_KKW9OdWuikHa8-R-vOkZJgJ7OIyqdmNbw9BX2EFwHx04NIsOCWuLGNnFcSWTb89Y-zIAwcsr5cGsWnb6ze/s400/conneaut9.JPG" title="Conneaut Creek, Ohio" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Due to the clearer conditions, Steelhead Alley anglers often use very long rods and light lines. The standard length rod can range from 9’ all the way to 15’. The longer rod allow for better line control. Longer rods absorb more energy when fighting fish with light lines as many anglers use 8 or 6 pound test. The majority of anglers will use fluorocarbon line as their main line and tippet. Presentations vary according to flow rates and clarity. When streams are running off color, many anglers will use spawn sacs that consist of salmon or trout eggs. Eggs have an advantage as fish can smell them without having to see them. As the water clears presentations are scaled back in size. Some anglers will go to single eggs or use small jigs. As for fly fishermen, they also employ long rods and leaders. In recent years, some fly fishermen have started using spey or switch rods. During high water, they'll use large colorful streamers. As the water clears, they'll downsize and use either egg patterns or nymphs. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4bdKJoOELPmZuvxYkguwBMk-mSidDXt74S_HWMeB50qH3bZU2RM6linzxl9fJMRTWp9Gmt3dWvHbCY3Y6WR1B925Lh7VW8v-VNJ7-RXfNOMx2xf9YrmOGmu8lF_f74jJ3-a9ZjbW9MZE/s1600/chagrin6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="997" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj4bdKJoOELPmZuvxYkguwBMk-mSidDXt74S_HWMeB50qH3bZU2RM6linzxl9fJMRTWp9Gmt3dWvHbCY3Y6WR1B925Lh7VW8v-VNJ7-RXfNOMx2xf9YrmOGmu8lF_f74jJ3-a9ZjbW9MZE/s400/chagrin6.jpg" title="Chagrin River, Ohio" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Most of the streams have easy access as many urban and rural roads cross or run along them. However, many do flow through private property especially in Pennsylvania and New York. Anglers must get permission from landowners, however that’s become a problem in recent years as the popularity of the fishery has attracted many anglers. The majority of Ohio’s streams have public access as they flow through metro parks in Cuyahoga, Lorain, Lake, and Ashtabula Counties. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqf4xGtRsyc-UivZyL2YTGx-hiarczZ5VxdphISiIoAQjJqRttNbIZGey3upCxhU3KINqAhFl3o_r3_2008mT9caG95IKK9SMmuJGCo7kOVVyJKEjiMdE8gk1cOA3SSKG76crNyOlAh4D/s1600/coldsteel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Steelhead Alley" border="0" data-original-height="379" data-original-width="506" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqf4xGtRsyc-UivZyL2YTGx-hiarczZ5VxdphISiIoAQjJqRttNbIZGey3upCxhU3KINqAhFl3o_r3_2008mT9caG95IKK9SMmuJGCo7kOVVyJKEjiMdE8gk1cOA3SSKG76crNyOlAh4D/s400/coldsteel.jpg" title="Lake Erie steelhead" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The fishery has endured growing pains especially with access and the number of anglers. Over the years, the popularity has lead to an increase in anglers and some have routinely ignored landowner requests to stop fishing on their property. The result of that is more and more property has become posted. As public areas decrease that has lead to overcrowded conditions mostly in Pennsylvania. State agencies are buying or leasing property to help ease the congestion. Finding peace and quiet can be difficult, but the for the adventurous angler there can still be places that afford the solitude. Before there were steelhead, many anglers often stopped fishing in the late fall as the lake was too rough and cold to fish. Many of them were content to wait until spring. With the stocking of steelhead, the angler today has a fishery to fill that void. There's not to many places in the world where an angler can catch close to 50 fish in an outing inside an metropolitan area that has over 2 million people. Steelhead Alley is truly a remarkable place. </span><br />
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Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-51936049325889083432018-09-11T06:23:00.007-04:002023-02-09T21:41:02.097-05:00Tackle for the Steelhead AnglerWhen comes to fishing for steelhead, anglers have a wide variety of gear at their disposal. Some anglers carry boxes of flies and others boxes of lures. I'm strictly into float fishing and I primarily use sacs and once in a while I'll throw on jig to mix things up. Over the years, I've simplified how much gear I need. There's no need to dig through a vest looking for terminal tackle. Today, I can pretty well pack everything into my Fishpond waterdance guide pack. Below is what I typical use during the season<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Sheffield Pocket Tackle Box</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11wca7s5bZ_Hc9j1ybYDMUESMYAbOebZnN-Bw2juVZWZHgZ2t1kEV1fDyWtDa3A3Ca8c5FKcVVXR1vIE3lAcUYAQYqqDQpSv49kwBrrYX5l4Ya2WAMt-uKtBS_0h3GIYZsz_8OtEjp8i0/s1600/steelheadtacklebox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="steelhead tackle box" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi11wca7s5bZ_Hc9j1ybYDMUESMYAbOebZnN-Bw2juVZWZHgZ2t1kEV1fDyWtDa3A3Ca8c5FKcVVXR1vIE3lAcUYAQYqqDQpSv49kwBrrYX5l4Ya2WAMt-uKtBS_0h3GIYZsz_8OtEjp8i0/s400/steelheadtacklebox.jpg" title="steelhead tackle box" width="400" /></a></div>
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This little box holds all of my hooks, sinkers, float caps, beads, bead pegs, glo tube jigs and swivels. The box is made of durable plastic and measures 4"x4 3/8" when it's folded. It comes with 12 compartments that can be adjusted for size. It will fit in nearly every type of vest or pack or even a jacket pocket.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Hooks</span></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdju5WMsiCyPgTZ3RZJVlk5jCTfxJvxANldKLQuecbwoMgtOQNGnLTjKudKnBq892WGrnuEaCPI4Ex0QJIB169JSy9K720w_Azqh91gwVjaVa1nX9icqkyMAryRZ1bGcHnv96K2inrIaGG/s1600/steelheadhooks.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="steelhead hooks" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdju5WMsiCyPgTZ3RZJVlk5jCTfxJvxANldKLQuecbwoMgtOQNGnLTjKudKnBq892WGrnuEaCPI4Ex0QJIB169JSy9K720w_Azqh91gwVjaVa1nX9icqkyMAryRZ1bGcHnv96K2inrIaGG/s400/steelheadhooks.jpg" title="steelhead hooks" width="400" /></a></div>
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I pretty well use size 8 and 6 hooks. I prefer to use larger hooks as they're more durable. If the water is clear, I'll go to a #10. The best hooks to use are wide gap ones with a thin profile. Good quality ones are Kamasan B983 or Owners SSW.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Sinkers/Swivels</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfn3QO_1eDwiYdS7swNRW7IML-ow3tuS6m4CRDHUvWm9qlG0yhJcmqJp1KSp5pKq61Ott1pwPMinaMULqeYZjgECoK2BdJVnC19KzHMjO21OvpsOUINSvLail6UFp3TJYy5zmElH-I7kl/s1600/sureshot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Sure shot sinkers" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxfn3QO_1eDwiYdS7swNRW7IML-ow3tuS6m4CRDHUvWm9qlG0yhJcmqJp1KSp5pKq61Ott1pwPMinaMULqeYZjgECoK2BdJVnC19KzHMjO21OvpsOUINSvLail6UFp3TJYy5zmElH-I7kl/s400/sureshot.jpg" title="Sure shot sinkers" width="400" /></a></div>
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I've always like Sure Shot and I carry shots in size AB, BB, 4, 6, and 8. AB is the largest and 8 the smallest. The larger shots are used higher up to balance the float and use smaller ones towards the swivel. As for swivels, I use the micro ones made by Blackbird. The purpose of the swivel is to prevent the line from twisting.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Tube for Floats/Floats</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NT8AMRnCXYjNEaMCzm-EXseqAvlNZWlcjrI-GxKzzqr6oEEFzznAM-Wk0DZN7VU-dK2BuYyFB8UnZ1LEuHPEpS_CC4KYDpvmkgBLMDkY_ZoIgJiwNOwU4c6Sqt_KG6YakuVp4YFOhLh4/s1600/floatcaddy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="caddy for floats" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NT8AMRnCXYjNEaMCzm-EXseqAvlNZWlcjrI-GxKzzqr6oEEFzznAM-Wk0DZN7VU-dK2BuYyFB8UnZ1LEuHPEpS_CC4KYDpvmkgBLMDkY_ZoIgJiwNOwU4c6Sqt_KG6YakuVp4YFOhLh4/s320/floatcaddy.jpg" title="floats for steelhead" width="320" /></a></div>
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Known as tube caddies, one of the local tackle stores I go to sells them. Originally for walleye anglers to store their body bait lures, they come in handy for storing floats. At 7" long, they can hold up to 6 five gram FM floats. The only floats I use are Raven because they all have the same stem size. Unlike Drennan floats, you don't have to cut the line and swap out caps. I pretty well only use the FM model because they're so versatile. I generally use 4.2 and 5 gram floats.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiv6KOlmJ1r45MoVOWcrYTdwbFlAHrN3OobKiwe3nefvG_XdtF1Vs2_ONclsVBhRWow0rzbpnw1CdF_ucxTjYsGNhdDytszf_LIa_3gmotcMs8PDFEt2901Jp-dXWG95tHbT9vTLss4IFY/s1600/steelheadjigs.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiv6KOlmJ1r45MoVOWcrYTdwbFlAHrN3OobKiwe3nefvG_XdtF1Vs2_ONclsVBhRWow0rzbpnw1CdF_ucxTjYsGNhdDytszf_LIa_3gmotcMs8PDFEt2901Jp-dXWG95tHbT9vTLss4IFY/s400/steelheadjigs.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I have a Fishpond Dragonfly pack and it comes with zip down fly bench. I use the bench to hold a variety of jigs. Jigs are very effective on steelhead, especially when shiners come upstream in the fall or spring. If the fish aren't hitting sacs, I throw out a jig. In my tackle box I carry several crappie jigs and the ones I like the atomic tube jigs. What makes the atomic jigs special is that glow when light is shone on the body. In low light, that glow often get a reaction from the fish.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Hemostats</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsqpoycfjP-jM-6piv0ceofAjZV2jbj1YH8tObhE7DykSz5ZqlFkA426-NHsD70TzhWjLyfAOIc6ih_V_BtsEjq0pUldpp2qrObTArdpsSZbOFOw2nedIDVcYieWZVujhuZy1Zce7ydqq/s1600/hemostats.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipsqpoycfjP-jM-6piv0ceofAjZV2jbj1YH8tObhE7DykSz5ZqlFkA426-NHsD70TzhWjLyfAOIc6ih_V_BtsEjq0pUldpp2qrObTArdpsSZbOFOw2nedIDVcYieWZVujhuZy1Zce7ydqq/s400/hemostats.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Nothing worse than having to stick your fingers in a steelhead's mouth to pull out a hook. They have needle sharp teeth and they can butcher your fingers quick. I have a large sturdy one that can yank out the deepest hookset with relative ease.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Line Nipper/Retractor</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibw1MzQco8IqbcqtkklWhwCQYsoecsSDilTkLRtQ1MGFD3ezAJgRgE5LW_HaV5h1S0GSBe4T-HABdzNTVhrhjHcvHXbtzMSieEpn6Z_9z6JDunOqFC0Iys7AiU6SpQHQORb7YrpkxQNCMc/s1600/nippers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibw1MzQco8IqbcqtkklWhwCQYsoecsSDilTkLRtQ1MGFD3ezAJgRgE5LW_HaV5h1S0GSBe4T-HABdzNTVhrhjHcvHXbtzMSieEpn6Z_9z6JDunOqFC0Iys7AiU6SpQHQORb7YrpkxQNCMc/s400/nippers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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They come in handy when clipping off line tags or pulling an old sac from a hook. I attach my nips to retractor.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Leathermen Tool</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhA002FAvA4sSTNy9m4Bf6CceWM_exAQHsU4Yi3wkV5aOuTCdymK6C1bDZt36IHBXMIcrMhVcsuQrhcoL1R0cD2GjNQuqvxZp3Iheid7fzCVNeXdGDAG8duZ9ShGiZe7wbNs79mQrOI74h/s1600/leathermantool.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhA002FAvA4sSTNy9m4Bf6CceWM_exAQHsU4Yi3wkV5aOuTCdymK6C1bDZt36IHBXMIcrMhVcsuQrhcoL1R0cD2GjNQuqvxZp3Iheid7fzCVNeXdGDAG8duZ9ShGiZe7wbNs79mQrOI74h/s400/leathermantool.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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A must have for every steelheader. The pliers come in handy for removing the nut on my reel. There's times when I had to remove it because of ice or grit getting inside. Other useful tool include the knife and screwdriver.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Paste</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi11U_delC2me2Rs43jUBFR5AcmQVgDgRJEFbUk2eNiNpk5j5gD8-5xUqEj7o0abxfUw1PTvg7tjwJN9JjI5Z9afPBlvytJtguTAKTvoVNw7-mSNllXSHLxeXQmFBmOeNatNMoz-5rS5w/s1600/loonpaste.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIi11U_delC2me2Rs43jUBFR5AcmQVgDgRJEFbUk2eNiNpk5j5gD8-5xUqEj7o0abxfUw1PTvg7tjwJN9JjI5Z9afPBlvytJtguTAKTvoVNw7-mSNllXSHLxeXQmFBmOeNatNMoz-5rS5w/s400/loonpaste.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I carry a container of Loon's to coat the guides during the winter. The paste prevents ice from forming. I dab will do ya.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Leader/Tippets</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS1HShQ9YFURZ7kOqCaEHOoGroEJWKujJwLKCEmAsT-vlnBHYLv-eBoWfeSg6eMznZBtiVrWYHO87Z4TzPinXF88UI_-_b4gmh1LovYtNcswOxory5tMGqwVyM9yoBFp8vFhtYzOd1Kun/s1600/drennanline.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizS1HShQ9YFURZ7kOqCaEHOoGroEJWKujJwLKCEmAsT-vlnBHYLv-eBoWfeSg6eMznZBtiVrWYHO87Z4TzPinXF88UI_-_b4gmh1LovYtNcswOxory5tMGqwVyM9yoBFp8vFhtYzOd1Kun/s400/drennanline.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I carry spools of fluorocarbon ranging from 10# for the leader and 8# and 6# for the tippet. Fluorocarbon is more abrasion resistance and thinner than standard mono.<br />
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So there you have it. You really don't need a lot of stuff for a day on the river. But I do have a small tackle box stowed in the back storage compartment of my SUV filled with floats, sinkers, hooks, tippets, and swivels as a backup, because there's times I didn't check how line was left in the spool or spilled all of my sinkers and hooks in the water.Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-62378016348330045372018-08-21T20:04:00.000-04:002018-11-06T20:01:16.950-05:00British Columbia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hT76demSHRQWUihOSBDScWZzfP8MCkLyPwfq6eKpy0oJWCzCfXjdR9bHzB0IhW0otvzSGpMW48PdMXWvWlGYw_6DRe6NgIpZMZd3dfdQjp_na6T_YyP6-WTPsR_NtxM82c0qj6KrqOD3/s1600/kalamalka2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Kal Lake, British Columbia" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7hT76demSHRQWUihOSBDScWZzfP8MCkLyPwfq6eKpy0oJWCzCfXjdR9bHzB0IhW0otvzSGpMW48PdMXWvWlGYw_6DRe6NgIpZMZd3dfdQjp_na6T_YyP6-WTPsR_NtxM82c0qj6KrqOD3/s400/kalamalka2.jpg" title="Kalamalka Lake" width="400" /></a></div>
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Sunday morning I peer out of the hotel window and I'm frowning. The weather outside isn't so great as it's raining. Most of the mountains are covered in clouds and there are puddles of water in the courtyard. I check my phone and the weather report today is rain in both Alberta and British Columbia. I sit on the bed and my girlfriend asks me what's wrong. I tell her it's raining and driving on the Bow Valley Parkway is not going to happen. Perfect weather can be hard to come by when on vacation, especially in the mountains. We head down for breakfast and I stuff my face with eggs, bacon and home fries to feed my depressed state. To wash down the misery, I have about 4 cups of coffee. Because today, we're heading to BC to see my mom and sister. We'll be there for four days and then return to Alberta to spend the rest of the time in Banff before flying back to Ohio Saturday. After breakfast, we wake the kids and tell them we're hitting the road.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtWZ52k9pN9Y1rBt8RjV0j61BDlFqfeAq6bn8rtPdS5Hc6KCIhB6Tav3Egtxlp-W0t4-cwyBPkfgJJqoTN3px_qyUQaqcSrONRYKFSjba3TLZhe3vSmfOkn5LMUmI_nIjhMO5bryJktCd/s1600/Kalamalka1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Rattlesnakes at Kalamalka Lake Provincial Park" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtWZ52k9pN9Y1rBt8RjV0j61BDlFqfeAq6bn8rtPdS5Hc6KCIhB6Tav3Egtxlp-W0t4-cwyBPkfgJJqoTN3px_qyUQaqcSrONRYKFSjba3TLZhe3vSmfOkn5LMUmI_nIjhMO5bryJktCd/s400/Kalamalka1.jpg" title="Kalamalka Lake Provincial Park" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We check out and head out towards the Trans Canada highway. Before heading out, the kids want coffee. I take them Tim Horton's which I tell them is the Canadian version of Dunkin Donuts. Tim Hortons is practically in every town somewhere in Canada. Canadians do love their coffee as they consume more than any other nation. I verse them by telling them if you want double cream and double sugar, you say "double double" and the person behind the counter will understand what you want. When I moved to the states twenty years ago, I really missed my morning cups of Timmy. Whenever I went to Ontario, I would bring back bags of it as I was never really into Starbucks or Dunkins. To add to the junk food collection in the back, we get some donuts. We buckle in and I punch in my mom's address. It's 230 miles and will take 5 hours without stopping. We hit the Trans Canada highway and the rain is coming down and the skies are grey. I joked that we brought Cleveland weather with us. To add insult to injury the weather back home is currently sunny and hot.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMWsOAR6VU_wSxTF4u2Go-s-5PK2HOIJIoOOLCiL2UnWuNCgnKW0zskV8AoGDa_cIn5Yk3dV0K9tblyZecCdGUf2BtVHZVw6Wsxaahk89JV9S8SlckjTQVrxov4x3_xUDC-N2ODYnNqW9/s1600/lakeokanagan2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Sparkling Hills Resort" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMWsOAR6VU_wSxTF4u2Go-s-5PK2HOIJIoOOLCiL2UnWuNCgnKW0zskV8AoGDa_cIn5Yk3dV0K9tblyZecCdGUf2BtVHZVw6Wsxaahk89JV9S8SlckjTQVrxov4x3_xUDC-N2ODYnNqW9/s400/lakeokanagan2.jpg" title="Okanagan Lake" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Traffic is light for a Sunday morning. Alberta has built a beautiful highway that can handle traffic at high speeds through the mountain passes. Along the highway, there's a fence that prevents wildlife from being killed by traffic. I couldn't imagine the number of animals dying before the fences were erected. They go for quite a distance and there's a couple of bridges that the animals can use to cross over. From what I read, it's been a success as many species of animals have utilized it. The kids are in the back watching movies or playing games. I told them that cell service will probably be nonexistent so they needed to download it the night before. The drive for the most part through Banff is uneventful. The Bow River, however, looks beautiful as the deep blue-green hues of the water stand out. The divided highway comes to an end that means we're at the border of Alberta and BC. We leave Banff and enter Yoho National Park. Yoho in Cree means "in awe and wonder". If it wasn't for the low clouds we would probably be in awe of the scenery.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUa0G525RAQXoT4r7q_kkvzHoFGmHYgujyRArwU5DGUlJ4EEaPNSe-10GO36bmpaALE7ZYM-knuTnsgEbPTIbZ0ilJ-5E1axkS9-kWSePOjg7KFTM0KqvkhS99ktbFG18UgAkJ_kKdSMcc/s1600/cedargrove3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="mount revelstoke national park" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUa0G525RAQXoT4r7q_kkvzHoFGmHYgujyRArwU5DGUlJ4EEaPNSe-10GO36bmpaALE7ZYM-knuTnsgEbPTIbZ0ilJ-5E1axkS9-kWSePOjg7KFTM0KqvkhS99ktbFG18UgAkJ_kKdSMcc/s400/cedargrove3.jpg" title="Giant cedar grove" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yoho National Park is the smallest of four contiguous national parks. Yoho along with Banff, Jasper, Kootenay and three provincial park form the Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks World Heritage site. The parks encompass an area about 2,299,104 ha in size. These parks have a long history as most were established well over a 100 years ago. Due to time constraints, Yoho would only be viewed from the car. If the weather was better, I wanted to stop off at the spirals as Kim's son would enjoy watching a train go into the bottom of the mountain and come out at the top of it, while the back end of it was still going through. I mentioned it to him if the weather was better, we would stop on the way back.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWH1yAM88IIgx9QHy9tf-jqUDaOy7d-CjTOZlnF-fjrFjiTF1D0bwvtaUVf5-RbtHi9S7-HqVcjeGyGfEeLuDdjSTceK0GhURUBgrBpRdtrstu4DOeHY_3VY9QlVZs_YnGcaOrLZ8n1kB/s1600/cedargrove5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="cedar grove in mount revelstoke national park" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDWH1yAM88IIgx9QHy9tf-jqUDaOy7d-CjTOZlnF-fjrFjiTF1D0bwvtaUVf5-RbtHi9S7-HqVcjeGyGfEeLuDdjSTceK0GhURUBgrBpRdtrstu4DOeHY_3VY9QlVZs_YnGcaOrLZ8n1kB/s400/cedargrove5.jpg" title="Giant cedar grove" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The rain continues as we leave Yoho and head towards the city of Golden. There's one stretch of the Trans Canada highway that gets a bad reputation and that's the section of highway leading into the Kicking Horse Canyon. The highway hugs along the mountains and has hairpins and tight curves. I see the brake check ahead that is for truckers. The rain has stopped for the time being and we can see the tops of the mountains. We enter what the locals call "ten mile hill" because you're going downhill for ten miles. As we pass the brake check, we enter see two huge rock columns on both sides of the highway announcing your entering the canyon. That section of the mountain was blasted away so engineers could erect a bridge across the Kicking Horse River. So why the name Kicking Horse? It isn't named after an Indian chief, but after an incident that happened in 1858 when James Hector, a surgeon, and geologist to the Passiler Expedition. According to his journals, one of his pack horses fell into the river and panicked. When he tried to grab the horse, it kicked him in the chest, almost killing him.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrExVw1LJVQbOdcwZN72wrSN_sCtoaWdm4hNttd9Q5Hmcp7moykVnNB6I3_h9vE6MTuYtcJ1yqynPRG26eo-4pxYJARqf1gTK8YpWC53iOUAxqfmR5Eav8Qzesc5ALbxtG91Di66GcgOL-/s1600/glaciernationalpark1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="mountain off the highway" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrExVw1LJVQbOdcwZN72wrSN_sCtoaWdm4hNttd9Q5Hmcp7moykVnNB6I3_h9vE6MTuYtcJ1yqynPRG26eo-4pxYJARqf1gTK8YpWC53iOUAxqfmR5Eav8Qzesc5ALbxtG91Di66GcgOL-/s400/glaciernationalpark1.jpg" title="Glacier national park canada" width="300" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">After the bridge, the road straightens out until the divided highway ends. I pass a large truck just before the road goes to a single lane. The road is tight when I hit the first curve as I grunt turning the steering wheel. There are large cement blocks along the road that prevent mudslides from crashing onto the highway. Farther up, there's are a series of rock curtains. The curtains protect motorists from falling debris. The road is really tight and there's no margin for error. I can't imagine doing this in the winter or driving a large truck through this. I watch a couple tour buses go by and there's not much room to spare. I remember my mom telling me once a mudslide happened and the highway was shut down for five hours. During the summer months, traffic through here will often back up as large trucks, RVs and vehicles hauling campers struggle to make their way up and down. No wonder my mother prefers to fly to Calgary instead of making this drive. We make it through the last curve and the highway divides all the way into Golden where we fill up for gas and stretch our legs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Another coffee, more donuts and we continue on. The Rockies are far behind and as we enter Glacier National Park. The mountains here are named the Selkirks and are part of the Columbian range. Glacier is the 2nd oldest national park in Canada as it was created in 1886. The park is 521 sq mile in size, slightly larger than Yoho. Clouds obscure the mountains, but we see the large swaths of openings between the stands of trees. Glacier gets an abundance of snow and the area is prone to avalanches. That's evident when we enter Roger's Pass. This section of Glacier gets about 32 feet of snow during the winter. Several mountains are practically next to the highway and due to their steep nature, there are a series of snow sheds to protect motorists.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5aUf4VZk7WyoRyOhDAfrnvZgNtGFJwyh07LP9f5GBJxhGUhzfJ-xXSEIwynRHLDjAsghdSYPXyzyDEV0pyBVKmmzt-wEndBDJVNA8yT9xvIMMWl6cAsFho_Vzg1Dr07nKCt3fDXz59De/s1600/cedargrove4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="cedar grove description" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn5aUf4VZk7WyoRyOhDAfrnvZgNtGFJwyh07LP9f5GBJxhGUhzfJ-xXSEIwynRHLDjAsghdSYPXyzyDEV0pyBVKmmzt-wEndBDJVNA8yT9xvIMMWl6cAsFho_Vzg1Dr07nKCt3fDXz59De/s400/cedargrove4.jpg" title="Giant cedar grove" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We see the sign for the Rogers Pass Discovery Center as we need to use the bathroom. We pull in and when I open the door, I immediately feel the cold. I could swear, that I even saw a couple snowflakes. Makes sense as we're about 4,360 ft above sea level. We all go in and when I leave the bathroom, I walk around as I'm waiting for the others. The center has several exhibits about the pass and the fauna of the park. There are several mounts of animals on display. At the center of the floor is a caribou mount. The description tells of their plight. Caribou populations in the Selkirks have dropped drastically over the past few decades. Today, they're barely hanging on and wildlife biologists have determined they'll become extinct very soon. Logging is the biggest culprit as caribou need old growth forest to survive. Younger forests attract moose and deer and that in turn attracts wolves. I remember seeing caribou along the Alaska highway north of Fort St. John 20 years ago when I lived in Northern Alberta. However, I've learned that population is also in trouble.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgj9Z7GG0GtQDND46T0upqZSi427ZW-kAnwyziUkEhIHrlVGqGbSUzze8v35x22LuJtn9sjXUF6Aq9NarznoEhsALoW6VWUzlVlj4n-PzCqVDk9Fs6DYaJVN-u8kATgH0eqaO26cixBtQ/s1600/glaciernationalpark2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Selkirk mountains" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1477" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifgj9Z7GG0GtQDND46T0upqZSi427ZW-kAnwyziUkEhIHrlVGqGbSUzze8v35x22LuJtn9sjXUF6Aq9NarznoEhsALoW6VWUzlVlj4n-PzCqVDk9Fs6DYaJVN-u8kATgH0eqaO26cixBtQ/s400/glaciernationalpark2.jpg" title="Glacier national park canada" width="368" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I look at the GPS and we're a couple hours away from Vernon. Unfortunately, we're stuck behind a large camper as cars and trucks start piling up behind us. Add a pounding headache from all of the sugar I had, I start to become annoyed as we're stuck behind him. Compared to Alberta's section of the Trans Canada highway, BC's is terribly outdated. Nearly all of it is single lane with a few divided sections thrown in. We finally hit a divided section and I floor it. I look over and it's an elderly couple and he looks stressed. I can't blame him as hauling a 25' camper and I'm sure driving down the Kicking Horse raised his heart level.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHP1o9hQquK1798iPrNByttD4kcbPxwGJ4-zQxAO04iH7cKLbhgsj3ErQLeRInPSDV_ZZ2CTwdqzbXGcDTeYRaTBz4MHBOpzz6fmRsSmp95pO66WZVgMbK-X2qwS36LbZQFpq4iw8Pe-x/s1600/lakeokanagan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Vernon BC" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOHP1o9hQquK1798iPrNByttD4kcbPxwGJ4-zQxAO04iH7cKLbhgsj3ErQLeRInPSDV_ZZ2CTwdqzbXGcDTeYRaTBz4MHBOpzz6fmRsSmp95pO66WZVgMbK-X2qwS36LbZQFpq4iw8Pe-x/s400/lakeokanagan.jpg" title="Lake Okanagan" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We stop outside of Revelstoke for another bathroom break. I lay off the coffee because I'll be using the bathroom every 45 minutes. The GPS tells me that in a few miles, we'll be getting off the Trans Canada highway and onto to highway 94A. We enter the town of Sicamous as I hear the kids snicker in the background as their mother announces the name of the town as sick-a-moose. We see the sign and it proclaims itself as the houseboat capital of Canada. The highway hugged along the shores of Shuswap Lake. As expected we see a lot of houseboats docked at several marinas. Gradually the mountains turned into foothills. It felt like an eternity as we've been on the road for hours. The kids are starting to get hungry and I tell them we're 30 minutes away. But, that doesn't fly as they want to eat now. Along the highway, we see signs for the Log Barn. Every few miles we would see another sign. It was almost like they were trying to entice us to stop in. We figured it was a restaurant. We see it and pull in, I start to chuckle because it's something I've never seen before. The place bordered on the absurd. We pull in and it's the most cheesy place I've ever seen. Silly dinosaur sculptures, goats playing on metal structures and statues. Thinking there was a restaurant inside, there wasn't one. It was a country store that sold meats and other products. I quickly went the bathroom and got everyone back in the car. The kids were really hungry and Armstrong didn't have a lot of options so we settled on McDonalds. The burgers and fries hit the spot and it was back on the road.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmD-unj8HSXBLaTvQMKL4ldOwnNMAbGp0mj7VwfS9YZl3VPaoXhxa1eSTT8HWzPoitO3V5SaDqc7N0XYZTFdbafkYY9wWVgsSH1HYP8CjaxlBIQrPq_iVPQoM-uFemavkiUJL7HARHi1I/s1600/sparklinghills.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Sparkling Hills resort" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHmD-unj8HSXBLaTvQMKL4ldOwnNMAbGp0mj7VwfS9YZl3VPaoXhxa1eSTT8HWzPoitO3V5SaDqc7N0XYZTFdbafkYY9wWVgsSH1HYP8CjaxlBIQrPq_iVPQoM-uFemavkiUJL7HARHi1I/s400/sparklinghills.jpg" title="Vernon BC" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The final leg of the trip as I see the outskirts of Vernon. We cross over town and turn onto my mom's street. However, I only have the address of the park and not her unit. I call which happens right in front of her unit and I see my mother in the window waving. The long journey is finally over as I get out. My girlfriend Kim, meet her last year in Ontario when we spread my father's ashes. She introduces her children to her as I'm unloading the car. Her home is tiny but inviting. I'm expecting my hear my father bellowing deep from his man cave, but the house is silent. I feel a sense of sadness as my father passed away a little more than a year ago. The last time I saw him was in Niagara Falls in 2015. I made a lot of excuses not to come out because I was uncomfortable flying by myself. I still remember the day when they told me they were moving out west. I would have never imagined them ever moving, as their roots were so deep. But, they wanted to be near their grandchildren. That happened 12 years ago. His death made me realize that time is so precious and I was using my fear of flying as a reason not to go, in the hopes that they would come out and see me. I felt a sense of pride that I pushed my irrational fears aside and made the journey.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GDyUYbSnEs0MXi1OMLMZZ586bhbub7CnXV8-oEbNOi7JZWxDIWFiXYHGjDK4aqVoq3Bih8JCeeWjeIvmiiPjLGMb2hfvW8bHc03At9qYzf_Ry8OXeCagAH9rDRswKydj_Cw6gzhiHLSi/s1600/glaciernationalpark3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Yoho BC" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8GDyUYbSnEs0MXi1OMLMZZ586bhbub7CnXV8-oEbNOi7JZWxDIWFiXYHGjDK4aqVoq3Bih8JCeeWjeIvmiiPjLGMb2hfvW8bHc03At9qYzf_Ry8OXeCagAH9rDRswKydj_Cw6gzhiHLSi/s400/glaciernationalpark3.jpg" title="Yoho national park" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My mother's home is located right across the road from Okanagan Lake. Due to snowmelt from the surrounding mountains, there's hardly a beach as several willow trees are partly submerged about 100 yards into the lake. The hills along the lake are sparsely vegetated. The weather is cool, which is uncommon for this region of the province as temperatures routinely get into the upper 90s and even into the 100s.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QaBue3NdcdVbrbPCUGq6grbEnJgunRaTM_iLijuxYOt6OzwF2U2ckvcHdAy4XzUx6BVUaJXdCQHbQ7gbKnUtQX2xE6A08QxYFWB1t7Mjiy5a00_0jEFuLU_wgGeBu6gdlz3ipzIZ-rut/s1600/cedargrove1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="broad walk in the grove" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QaBue3NdcdVbrbPCUGq6grbEnJgunRaTM_iLijuxYOt6OzwF2U2ckvcHdAy4XzUx6BVUaJXdCQHbQ7gbKnUtQX2xE6A08QxYFWB1t7Mjiy5a00_0jEFuLU_wgGeBu6gdlz3ipzIZ-rut/s400/cedargrove1.jpg" title="Giant cedar grove" width="300" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Vernon is located in the Okanagan region of the province. The city is located at the north end of the lake. When we drove in, the first thing I noticed about the city was the lack of zoning laws. There were mobile parks right next to multi-million dollar homes or businesses right next to homes. The region attracts a lot of wealthy people from the west as it's a very popular destination for the summer as the lake provides plenty of room for boating and weather is often very hot and sunny. Due to the climate, the region has a thriving winery is often referred to as the Napa Valley of Canada. There's also plenty of orchards along the lake. The other thing that was noticeable was the number of homeless people. At several busy intersections, there were several erected structures that housed them. From what I told, Vernon has a huge homeless problem, considering it's not a big city.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's Monday morning and we're heading to Kalamalka Lake Provincial Park where my mom and her friends do their morning walks. The park is small when I look at the placard describing the features of it. One placard does draw my attention as it mentions rattlesnakes are numerous here. Fortunately, the weather is cool enough that we won't see any. We make the hike as the trail hugs along the lake and then gradually goes up. The park preserves one the last remaining shrub grasslands that once stretched from Vernon all the way down the U.S border. We stand on top of a cliff and view the lake and surrounding hills. The lake is peaceful which in another month will be full of boats and jet skis. The hike isn't very difficult and pretty short in duration. We head over to Davidson's orchards for lunch and the evening is spent with my sister's family going to the movies. During that time, I'm trying to figure out what to do for the kids. There isn't much to do in Vernon and I wrack my brain over it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGn36f_d0HRvGhScCz5cwZJqUhm2rZdm5OuPVyi1NdSiUZZ2a7h9-srQM2R-HjQ3PU19OCw7gr6nm9qWtPRZ4tIDpxRJMF32nIQAd6nX5ESNDuIvdJpJ5bvovpSIm0ej7M10O8xG5beU/s1600/kalamalka3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="Kal Lake" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmuGn36f_d0HRvGhScCz5cwZJqUhm2rZdm5OuPVyi1NdSiUZZ2a7h9-srQM2R-HjQ3PU19OCw7gr6nm9qWtPRZ4tIDpxRJMF32nIQAd6nX5ESNDuIvdJpJ5bvovpSIm0ej7M10O8xG5beU/s400/kalamalka3.jpg" title="Kalamalka Lake" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The weather isn't helping as temperatures barely make it into the 60s. It's far too cold for the kids to paddle board or swimming. Tuesday we go shopping in Lake Country and then head over to the Sparkling Hills resort. The resort is a world-renowned health and wellness retreat. My first impression of it was it bared a striking resemblance to a villain's headquarters seen a James Bond movie. Inside the place is decked out in crystals as the owner of the place is Gernot Langes-Swarovski, the Austrian crystal baron. The resort offers a lot of packages for people who have chronic ailments. My girlfriend who has a chronic illness is well versed in natural treatments is intrigued by some of them. We step out to the back and we get a great view of the lake. The three days there were spent mostly with family. We didn't get the opportunity to go to Kelowna or the surrounding area. I was hard pressed to find any activities for the kids to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Time goes by very fast and it's Thursday morning as we're packing to head to Alberta. My mother was happy that we made the trip out and wished us a safe trip back. The weather heading out is deary and grey. The weather outlook for Banff isn't great either as they're calling for rain every day. But something happens when we reach Revelstoke as the clouds part and the sun comes out. I remember my brother-in-law mentioning that we should stop at the Giant Cedar grove off the highway in Mount Revelstoke National Park. We see the sign and pull off to stretch our legs and get some fresh air. We park and I hear the sounds of chainsaws in the distance. I see there's a manned park kiosk and walk over. The staff member tells they're doing work and we can still access the grove. Since we're in a national park, I can get a park pass for the days when we're at Banff. Park passes bought can be used in any national park in the country. The grove is located 30 km east of Revelstoke. The trail is a boardwalk and access is very easy. Part of the trail was closed off because of maintenance, but the scenery was amazing. Some of the trees in the grove are over 500 years old. Hard to believe that the grove is right off the highway because you stepped back in time, when much of this area was once virgin forest. I look at one tree and ask Kim to take a picture of me to show the true size of it. I stretch my arms out and they don't even touch the sides of it. Even though we couldn't do the entire boardwalk, I thought it was a hidden treasure to see such magnificent trees.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeukzqqV72fm6O88k9yIyvCDnZdmkuPN4Fsqg-paqSRuhyRRkzvfzQArl14uc2YZfzCSywhuFDOJHJ2oQ38doXMIVI4RrV4KntHqakFhTTwuhPF2U06lZklVhv2xHIba8fBJGahrWYjz3X/s1600/yoho.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img alt="spiral tunnel" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeukzqqV72fm6O88k9yIyvCDnZdmkuPN4Fsqg-paqSRuhyRRkzvfzQArl14uc2YZfzCSywhuFDOJHJ2oQ38doXMIVI4RrV4KntHqakFhTTwuhPF2U06lZklVhv2xHIba8fBJGahrWYjz3X/s400/yoho.jpg" title="Yoho national park" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Heading back on the road and we're entering Glacier National Park once again. This time the clouds have parted and catch a glimpse of one the mountains next to the highway pass the park center. For the first time we could see the tops of them and they were stunning. They were so steep, almost cathedral-like in stature. Several people pulled off to take pictures. The tops of several mountains were completely covered in snow. If only we had time to explore this wonderful park, but we could stay for a few minutes. Back in the car and we enter the snow sheds, but construction was in full force as we had to stop several times. One treat was a couple mountain goats on the side of the road right next to one of the snow sheds. We continue on and we enter Golden and make our way through the Kicking Horse Canyon onto Yoho.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As I promised Kim's son, we stopped at the train spirals. The spirals are located right off the highway. The walk isn't far and there were several placards telling the history of the tunnels. The tunnels are an engineering feat. How the tunnels work is when an eastbound train leaving the town of Field climbs a moderate hill, goes through two short, straight tunnels on Mt. Stephen, under the Trans-Canada Highway, across the Kicking Horse River and into the Lower Spiral Tunnel in Mt. Ogden. It spirals to the left up inside the mountain for 891 meters and emerges 15 meters higher. The train then crosses back over the Kicking Horse River, under the highway a second time and into the 991 meter tunnel in Cathedral Mountain. The train spirals to the right, emerging 17 meters higher and continues to the top of Kicking Horse Pass. Unfortunately, there wasn't a train as we saw a maintenance crew driving along the tracks. I was told at least 25 trains make their way through here daily. It was already past 3:00 PM and haven't reached Alberta yet, so we afford time to linger around in the hopes a train comes by.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We see the welcome to Alberta sign and our adventure to Banff begins.</span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8326801356467911435.post-4686958278391400222018-07-22T09:16:00.001-04:002019-09-01T10:14:03.072-04:00Banff <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUi6BLNuGECKQihmsu7BkbQDAlxXkYN-EFln_6x52jH_oZthWemITx-0kAL22LvGfU0j9wRHxu4Gi5YWYRBPpAco7RQTnhN6pJWKHEuLtOkEmpYm7p9asHnmAKByZpTtLwzG2HFFexzAqj/s1600/banff34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Valley of the Ten Peaks " border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUi6BLNuGECKQihmsu7BkbQDAlxXkYN-EFln_6x52jH_oZthWemITx-0kAL22LvGfU0j9wRHxu4Gi5YWYRBPpAco7RQTnhN6pJWKHEuLtOkEmpYm7p9asHnmAKByZpTtLwzG2HFFexzAqj/s400/banff34.jpg" title="Moraine Lake" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before I moved the U.S from Canada,</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I lived in Grande Prairie, Alberta in 1997. I remember spending a long weekend in Jasper National Park with my future wife. We were completely awestruck at the natural beauty of it. Even though we were there for three days, I kept telling myself that I had to make the trip back and spend even more time there exploring the riches that the place had to offer especially Banff. The following year, we had the opportunity to move to the states. As expected marriage, busy careers, and a costly divorce put my plans of going back on hold. At times, I wondered if I would ever go at all.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCeV7CTw5AdnT90AYiu0fbF884kbr476CpdboFj7fwd1LPgQvNz4bblZ7bPHAM3fg2rCZMebgy60nhslA51XNV8LsvS2b5hhgoEgQhczbi2IJTrPWb6sr7xEAEkX_dO5fflOsQBLGKBID/s1600/banff77.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rocky mountains in Canmore Alberta" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibCeV7CTw5AdnT90AYiu0fbF884kbr476CpdboFj7fwd1LPgQvNz4bblZ7bPHAM3fg2rCZMebgy60nhslA51XNV8LsvS2b5hhgoEgQhczbi2IJTrPWb6sr7xEAEkX_dO5fflOsQBLGKBID/s400/banff77.jpg" title="Rocky Mountains" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Some twenty years later me, my girlfriend, and her two kids are leaving Calgary International Airport heading for Canmore - the gateway to the Canadian Rockies. For her and the kids, it would be their first time seeing mountains. Even though it's early afternoon, I'm wiped out. The combination of trying to sleep on a cheap air mattress, being at the airport at 5:00 AM and the stress of flying, I try my best not to be irritable. We head across the prairies and halfway to Canmore, the mountains appear in the distance. I still remember the first time I caught glimpse of the Rockies and I was in awe at the size of them. The sight of them brings a smile to my face and that irritability starts to go away. My girlfriend's kids are teenagers and as expected, there's no ooh's or ahh's. They look up and go back to their phones. My girlfriend comments how impressive they are. The transition from prairies to the boreal forest is pretty abrupt and the hills are covered in deep green and the mountains get bigger and bigger as we approach them. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrcDHL4JwMfqVfY_ZF0yWHqdkbBgfq_NIakxAytwVsdpNJEe_NqlA3qr1-v-ktozIznztqvYkBEHqraO6UyeU4oVl9WnIER7F_wdiZn9lGUPjLEZRsjLmH4zzUN0_Kn563BWxbSoeTmne/s1600/banff76.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="3 sisters, Canmore" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1381" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrcDHL4JwMfqVfY_ZF0yWHqdkbBgfq_NIakxAytwVsdpNJEe_NqlA3qr1-v-ktozIznztqvYkBEHqraO6UyeU4oVl9WnIER7F_wdiZn9lGUPjLEZRsjLmH4zzUN0_Kn563BWxbSoeTmne/s400/banff76.jpg" title="Rocky mountains" width="345" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Trans Canada highway hugs along the mountains and it goes through the valley and along Lac des Arcs. Some of the mountains are practically right next to the highway. We all strain to look up at and see the tops covered in snow. We arrive in Canmore and pull up to the inn where we're staying for the night. Our trip is being split in two, as tomorrow we're leaving for Vernon BC to see my mother and sister for four days and then heading back to Banff on Thursday morning and fly back Saturday afternoon. Time is limited and</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm notorious for trying to cram everything into the less amount of time possible, I would be the nazi tour guide from hell. A place this huge, the sense of time can be quickly lost. Proir to the trip </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I've been trying to plan on what to do and how much can I possibly squeeze in without the kids having a meltdown. Also, I have to be mindful that my girlfriend suffers from a chronic illness. We haven't even unpacked and I'm starting to get antsy.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXGO1Bgy2cZtIiqtQ2ZgiOxjv9I-gJTamsaDLv67-PqqHfHWmup-CouS4XGYHFzr9aA24kdHNq4UUVKabjIB7lHIQxQo3xxlcAc1TCQv_HRvu6MC3_LSCIYFQNX1gmMNqp6Qb79MLyx7M/s1600/IMG_0877.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Rocky Mountains, Canmore, Alberta" border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1600" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXGO1Bgy2cZtIiqtQ2ZgiOxjv9I-gJTamsaDLv67-PqqHfHWmup-CouS4XGYHFzr9aA24kdHNq4UUVKabjIB7lHIQxQo3xxlcAc1TCQv_HRvu6MC3_LSCIYFQNX1gmMNqp6Qb79MLyx7M/s400/IMG_0877.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Canmore</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The town is located 50 miles west of Calgary along the Trans Canada highway. It's southeast of Banff National Park and is part of the Kananaskis Country. The population of the town around 13,000 and was once known for coal mining, but mining operations ceased in 1979 and the community converted itself to a tourism-based economy after the success of the 1988 Winter Olympics. Since then the town has tripled in size and has become a popular tourist destination during the summer and winter months. The area is also a very important wildlife corridor as many species move through the community and into and from the park. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaf_0Qp6W5pEb99vN1rzSczaPLaHkVZIb0GsKvu7jCyCGq9WD5DKErZkmORfnhMl25_7cnrnZ20OyRTEM-yxUR6YysNZ4nIqrmfRpR8lcujOcjZ5ylG_OJSxdKGOfEGw6naur6CK0OldQQ/s1600/Banff71.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Trans Canada highway" border="0" data-original-height="1437" data-original-width="1600" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaf_0Qp6W5pEb99vN1rzSczaPLaHkVZIb0GsKvu7jCyCGq9WD5DKErZkmORfnhMl25_7cnrnZ20OyRTEM-yxUR6YysNZ4nIqrmfRpR8lcujOcjZ5ylG_OJSxdKGOfEGw6naur6CK0OldQQ/s400/Banff71.jpg" title="Banff National Park" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We pull into the Windtower Inn and it has a Swiss village feeling to it. Canmore has become a popular place because lodging is cheaper as in most cases, half of what you would spend in Banff. During the summer months, Canmore is the only option when Banff's hotels are booked to the max. We booked our suite for $150.00 for a night way back in January. The suite was small but cozy. There was a full kitchen, washer and dryer, and a pull out bed. This would have been the perfect base to explore the park if we had stayed the entire week. The drive to the Banff isn't far, only 20 minutes and there were several provincial parks close by. We unpacked and I looked for a place to eat as we hadn't had anything since we landed in Minneapolis earlier in the morning.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG658TOoJhsUw7WjuohyphenhyphenxCKlKwxBhzPsY_kNxYSQgcS5wyXWffFGPvxhKQwoenv77hvYUXvwq7yRg08UDlWudTJll5JRx7pVPuGsc6spS7ky9_e4gzh871XV-lReKh9QgjZ4DjyWv0I4ET/s1600/banff79.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Icefields Parkway" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1356" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG658TOoJhsUw7WjuohyphenhyphenxCKlKwxBhzPsY_kNxYSQgcS5wyXWffFGPvxhKQwoenv77hvYUXvwq7yRg08UDlWudTJll5JRx7pVPuGsc6spS7ky9_e4gzh871XV-lReKh9QgjZ4DjyWv0I4ET/s400/banff79.jpg" title="Banff National Park" width="338" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I found a Greek restaurant named Patrinos close by. Since the weather was nice, we elected to sit out on the patio. The patio was located right next to the railroad and over the tracks, there's a strip mall. In the distance, there were the 3 sisters as the locals call them. The mall did ruin the ambiance of the mountains when I tried to take pictures. In recent years, Canmore has struggled with growth, while trying to preserve the natural beauty of the area. Some people feel eventually it will suffer the same fate as Banff, a place jammed packed with hordes of tourists, tour buses and lack of space. Dinner comes quickly and I wolfed my down quickly. There's a schedule to keep and we skip dessert. Even though it's only 5:30 PM and it doesn't get dark until 10:00 PM, there's a lot I want to get done. The plan was to do the Minnewanka Lake Loop, Vermillion Lakes and then head over the Upper Hot Springs for a much needed soak. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We get in the car and head for Banff. Prior to the trip I paid for a park pass and printed it out, as I didn't want to wait in line. However, there wasn't much of a line when we drove by. The Minnewanka Lake loop is one of the best places in the park to see wildlife. Ideally, I would have liked to do the Bow Valley Parkway, but the park shuts it down after 8:00 PM to allow wildlife to move around as most of them are still moving to spring and summer haunts. If we had gone later in the month, the nightly road closure would have been lifted. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit842aNv7y0yKes2O43oZM6l5lfO6qmFlxjSBuWH9mpLiicwFbvzNBqPWo5YdCeQIVepUrf46Gd8CaXIDM9sgdo8q6tzM8Cxg6ShBRSZJ2UQ7KpdLuP1UHPa_DnSjIlrywJpkjUyl4qama/s1600/banff1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Two Jack Lake, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit842aNv7y0yKes2O43oZM6l5lfO6qmFlxjSBuWH9mpLiicwFbvzNBqPWo5YdCeQIVepUrf46Gd8CaXIDM9sgdo8q6tzM8Cxg6ShBRSZJ2UQ7KpdLuP1UHPa_DnSjIlrywJpkjUyl4qama/s400/banff1.jpg" title="two Jake lake" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Minnewanka Loop / Vermilion Lakes</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Minnewanka Lake loop is about 13km in distance. The loop offers a wide variety of activities for the tourist such as hiking, mountain biking, canoeing, and camping. It's also very close to the town of Banff. We get off the exit to Banff Ave and head north and follow the signs to the loop. The loop goes along the Two Jack Lake and western end of Lake Minnewanka and loops back to Banff Ave. Immediately, in the distance I see an elk out on the meadow, unfortunately, I can't pull over and it's too far away for pictures. The road is narrow and winding as I try my best to keep an eye out for wildlife and on the road. We see absolutely nothing. We pull off at Two Jack Lake for a photo op. Even though it's the weekend, we're the only people there. To the south, the clouds are covering the top of Mount Rundle. The wind coming off the lake is chilly. I take the opportunity to take a picture of Kim and the kids. The shots are great as I have the snow-covered peaks and the forest in the background is deep green against the rocky background. The mountain air is refreshing as I just stand there and take in the view. We get back on the road and head towards Lake Minnewanka. As I'm driving, I see something in the distance walking up the road. I quickly recognize it as a bighorn sheep. Sheep are one of the most common mammals in the park. They often frequent the sides of the roads feeding on the lush growth before heading up into the mountains in mid-summer. The sheep is completely comfortable with the car stopping right next to it. Across the road are two others feeding on the hill. We take some pictures and continue on the loop. We come up to Lake Minnewanka which in Natoka means "Waters of the Spirits". We drive over the dam and see some boats out on the lake. The lake is very popular with boaters and scuba divers. The first thing that pops into my head is how good is the fishing? It's a shame that I won't have any time to wet a line. Farther up and around the road we see a couple cars stopped along the side. I glance over and there are two elk feeding. It's hard to see them because they're down in the bushes. We can't pull over, but the kids get a glimpse of them. Hopefully tomorrow, we might see more of them when we head up the Bow Valley Parkway on our way to BC.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4_oHTXVhXmVhfzKb0Ooox7H1lDIeJSaIQIXSMGX-hDJzDzUstD0MJiK0LDgkiBuxJ3_wW3fZR0B8uN3Gurm1vokg-WTVTmXhNvviP_GY84f8ISoVRmN4SXpeF4AI3gN6YJ_BVHN35vDP/s1600/banff67.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Vermillion Lakes, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4_oHTXVhXmVhfzKb0Ooox7H1lDIeJSaIQIXSMGX-hDJzDzUstD0MJiK0LDgkiBuxJ3_wW3fZR0B8uN3Gurm1vokg-WTVTmXhNvviP_GY84f8ISoVRmN4SXpeF4AI3gN6YJ_BVHN35vDP/s400/banff67.jpg" title="Vermilion Lakes" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before heading into Banff, I turn on to Vermillion Lakes road. Along the road, there are a series of small lakes. The main attraction of the lakes is the stunning view of Mount Rundle. I slow down to scan around the lakes to see if there are any animals. I don't see any, but I do see evidence as there are several trails in the reed beds were either made by elk or deer. I park the car and we get out to take some pictures. I take several photos of Mount Rundle and Sulphur Mountain. I also take some shots of the lakes and the surrounding forest. They look peaceful and serene despite hearing all the traffic as the Trans Canada highway runs right behind us. The lakes are popular for canoeing and paddle boarding, but nobody is out this evening. The only animal we see is a muskrat leisurely swimming along. We see several people with large cameras on tripods. What are they waiting for? Probably for the sun to set. I hoped they have a lot of mosquito repellent as it will getting dark in a couple hours. We leave them behind and head into Banff. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5PSDHO4SnWU0lURiY0iakV_O4uPg_yZA1FJr4ZVHa_WlTOPj9eB9TZFOuqYq6hOeCjsBiwS-iZCNOkf7i1C8NgelzRfSZ48u2MTPa0Elt9yZRuMi5ppRAg9wU1mTKZXz9xO5C-6YXn8q/s1600/banff3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Mount Rundle" border="0" data-original-height="1223" data-original-width="1600" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig5PSDHO4SnWU0lURiY0iakV_O4uPg_yZA1FJr4ZVHa_WlTOPj9eB9TZFOuqYq6hOeCjsBiwS-iZCNOkf7i1C8NgelzRfSZ48u2MTPa0Elt9yZRuMi5ppRAg9wU1mTKZXz9xO5C-6YXn8q/s400/banff3.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Upper Hot Springs/Banff</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When it comes to the town of Banff, opinions about it vary widely. You either love it or hate it. I'm in the hate it camp because it's become so commercialized much to the detriment of the town. During the "shoulder" season, the number of people can be staggering as is the traffic. The downtown core is a wide collection of cheesy gift shops, restaurants, hotels, outfitters, high-end stores, and cafes. I have no intentions of shopping and shelling over money as the entire town is a tourist trap. As a foodie, I'm intrigued to see what's there to offer, but that will have to wait later in the week. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVmsK01PIvs72wLeJ8qjJktQ9xiGWAkapgp3ek8J0aZXJ7HD4v8jTH4nBdbr8fFlDNI24rTD44zqTFHy8bZ-o9DQksgC9Dj_FaQyWpgr3YaANm2i9g3LE93gy95hKokb-bS1L15x2iEY_/s1600/banff27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Banff National Park" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNVmsK01PIvs72wLeJ8qjJktQ9xiGWAkapgp3ek8J0aZXJ7HD4v8jTH4nBdbr8fFlDNI24rTD44zqTFHy8bZ-o9DQksgC9Dj_FaQyWpgr3YaANm2i9g3LE93gy95hKokb-bS1L15x2iEY_/s400/banff27.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">When we turn off from Vermillion Lakes road, we see the huge Banff sign. As expected there's plenty of tourists vying for spots to get their pictures taken in front of it. Banff Avenue is the main street that takes you in the downtown core. Along the stretch, there is one hotel after another and they all share one thing in common - no vacancies. The sidewalks are packed with people and every parking spot is taken up. I would expect that for a Saturday evening and I can't imagine what it will be like July and August, which is considered prime tourist season. The hot springs are located outside of the town. We cross over the Bow River and follow the signs to Sulphur Mountain and the Upper Springs. One of the main attractions in Banff is the gondola ride up the mountain. At the top are an observation platform, two restaurants, and a gift shop. Both I and Kim discussed taking the kids up it. But, the $220.00 price for the four of us to ride eight minutes up was a little ( no pun intended ) too steep for me. I didn't want to pay in advance because the weather here can be unpredictable as tickets are non-refundable. When we arrived, the temperature was dropping and higher up it was probably even colder. The gondola is clearly one of those tourist traps that the locals warn everyone about.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnC07eA4mUVR4aCsTlF8fhWc9ZfvMC7VYuLAwbtPMvCnTz2IKMLvBJ4lwEhHji-Er2Yky7ncFfX01dx3ughZLXhm79kQRLh0hKafq-HXdSsP6g3wW9cUda7SHMBv5veLfmiAWdykVOfuz/s1600/banff64.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lake Agnes Teahouse" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOnC07eA4mUVR4aCsTlF8fhWc9ZfvMC7VYuLAwbtPMvCnTz2IKMLvBJ4lwEhHji-Er2Yky7ncFfX01dx3ughZLXhm79kQRLh0hKafq-HXdSsP6g3wW9cUda7SHMBv5veLfmiAWdykVOfuz/s400/banff64.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Upper Hot Springs are one of nine different naturally occurring hot springs in the Banff area. The hot spring water flows naturally through the Sulphur Mountain fault. According to the park, each hot spring has its own unique blend of minerals. The Upper Hot Springs is the hottest of these springs. The top five minerals found in the springs are:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sulfate 572 ppm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Calcium 205 ppm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Bicarbonate 134 ppm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Magnesium 42 ppm</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sodium 6.6 ppm</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We head into the hot springs and I pay $30.00 for four and four towels. We get changed and I and Kim's son head out to the pool. There's a sign telling people that the pool's current temperature is 39C. The pool is packed with people and I get a somewhat queasy feeling as I don't like getting into pools with a large number of people for obvious reasons. The water is hot but refreshing as I get in and there are Kim and her daughter. In the pool, I hear a large collection of accents and languages spoken. You can tell who's European, especially the men when they get out and they're in a tiny speedo and their gut is hanging over it. After a long day of flying and driving, my aching muscles and body need it. I just sit at the edge, soak and people watch. After an hour, my body starts to prune as does everyone else. It's starting to get dark and I'm tired as we've been up since 4:00 A.M Eastern time. Back home it would be almost midnight. As we walk back to the car, I look up and the skies are getting ominous. I hope the weather is good tomorrow morning. We get back to the inn and I hit the pillow hard. Much to the chagrin of others, I'm snoring within minutes.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeX_8gVN6rjDT7NIPZSZRFo8Lgh1jD09pmuUcSf1a3GPC1rVVcNMCe3z_XTr_CKIPb2aGPkvHRvmdfqeXDt2kOc79WXKiwo0Hj1Vm0crnv87Vzdhgm0HeXYp4cnWwDB3TSGQypfwPD39mE/s1600/banff2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Crowfoot Mountain and Bow Lake, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeX_8gVN6rjDT7NIPZSZRFo8Lgh1jD09pmuUcSf1a3GPC1rVVcNMCe3z_XTr_CKIPb2aGPkvHRvmdfqeXDt2kOc79WXKiwo0Hj1Vm0crnv87Vzdhgm0HeXYp4cnWwDB3TSGQypfwPD39mE/s400/banff2.jpg" title="Bow Lake" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wake up early and peek outside, the clouds are low and it's raining. The tops of the mountains are cloaked in them, giving them a mystical appearance. I know the drive up Bow Valley Parkway would be a waste of time as wildlife generally don't move about when it's wet. Both me and Kim head down for breakfast and let the kids sleep in. The plan is to get them up and hit the road for BC because the weather isn't great for anything. Once the kids are up, I pack up the car and we're on our way. Unfortunately, most of the mountains are obscured by the clouds we go through Yoho and Glacier National parks. The weather is miserable pretty well all the way to Vernon, so much for sightseeing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Thursday morning we leave Vernon early and the weather there the entire time was cool and cloudy, with the odd break of sunshine. I look at the weather report for Banff and it's not as great as they're calling for rain for the remainder of the week. But the weather in the Rockies can turn at a moment's notice. The drive is deary and uneventful until we get to Revelstoke. The clouds start to break and the sun comes out. We catch a glimpse of the higher peaks as past through Glacier and Yoho. Sensing that the weather will be to our advantage, I make the decision to go straight to the icefields.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Columbia Icefields and Parkway</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">On the way to Alberta, the traffic on the opposite direction of the Trans Canada highway is awful. Cars and trucks are backed up for miles as construction season is in full force. The government of BC is committed to twinning the highway. That's a huge task considering the terrain. If the traffic was bad on a Thursday, I can't imagine what it would be like tomorrow. We cross into Alberta and see the exit for the Icefields Parkway. There are several places that I want to see such as Peyto Lake, Bow Lake, any wildlife along the road and the big one is the Athabasca glacier. The first stop is Bow Lake which happens to be right off the parkway. We pull off and there are a few people mingling about taking in the scenery or snapping pictures. Bow Lake is about 30-minute drive north of Lake Louise. It's one of the largest lakes in Banff National Park and sits at an elevation of 6,300 feet. The lake is fed by meltwater from the Bow Glacier. The centerpiece of the lake is Crowfoot Mountain as the some of the clouds touch the top of it and swirled about. The snow glistened from the sun and the water had that beautiful turquoise blue. I gather Kim and kids and get a great shot of them and the lake and the mountain behind them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We continue our drive north and we see another small lake along the parkway. We decide to stop there on our way back. The Icefields Parkway stretches 144 miles through the heart of the Banff into Jasper National Park. The journey offers easy access to a vast wilderness of broad valleys, lush forests, glaciers and pristine alpine lakes. The parkway is very smooth and wide shoulders to allow motorists to pull over and take pictures or view wildlife. With all of the beautiful scenery, one can lose time trying to get everything done in one day, which I had to be mindful of. The other thing that I wasn't mindful of was the amount of fuel I had left in the car. I filled up in Vernon and I checked to see that I was under a quarter tank left. That was enough to make me break into a cold sweat because there's no cell phone service and there's only one gas station at the Saskatchewan crossing. The gas station is full service and when I see how much its per liter, my jaw drops as it's $1.99 per liter. I convert it to U.S gallons that pretty well $8.00 per gallon. I wisely tell the kid to fill it halfway. But since it's the only gas station between Lake Louise and Jasper, they can charge whatever they want. I look over at the RV next to me and I can't imagine what he's going to pay. I ask the kid how far is it to the Athabasca glacier and he tells me about 50km. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The next stop is a beautiful lookout of the North Saskatchewan River. This is the headwaters of the river as goes from here and flows nearly 800 miles across the provinces of Alberta and Saskatchewan. From the viewpoint, the water looks stunning. I look at the river and wished I could wet a line. There's plenty of lakes, rivers, and streams for the avid angler to fish. We don't stay long, just enough time to take some pictures. We continue north and along the valley and I can see the parkway make a long hairpin curve and up along the side of a mountain. The car revs as I climb up along it and there are a couple pull-offs that offer a spectacular view of the valley below. The parkway continues up the mountain and we're very close to the glacier. Ahead we see the Columbia Icefield Visitor Center and pull in as the kids need to use the bathroom. We get out and walk to the center and the first thing I notice is the terrible stench of diesel from the countless number of tour buses idling in the parking lot below. Inside it's a bustling place as people are heading out the skywalk or buying tickets for the ice bus. Once again, I see it as another tourist trap and I have no desire to shell out a lot of money to walk out a glass bottom walkway or drive on to a glacier for a couple hundred dollars. The kids come out and we drive out to the glacier. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The Athabasca glacier is most accessible and visited glacier in North America. We park at the closest lot to the glacier. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Despite being June we bundle up as the wind coming off the snow and ice is cold. I do chuckle at the sight of Kim's daughter wearing her Crocs as she walks effortlessly over the rocks.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The surrounding area looks like a moonscape as there are rocks scattered about. I look down and see the grooves where the glacier over thousands of years has worn down the rocks. We finally make to the edge of the glacier and it's truly impressive. The park has roped off access to it for a good reason as several people have died when they walked out and fell into crevices. We all stand there and take in the sight of it. I couldn't imagine the looks on the faces of the first explorers when they view it. Back then in the 1800s, it was more impressive looking. I look at the sides of the two mountains and I can make out where it once was. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The park has erected placards on the location of the glacier over the decades. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The glacier is currently receding at a rate of about 16 feet per year and lost over half of its volume in the past 125 years. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The recession of it is staggering considering 125 years in geological time is a nanosecond.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> The placard from the 1800s is located off the highway and is quite a distance from the glacier's current location. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I tell the kids that its possible it could disappear in their lifetime. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I notice the time about 6:00 PM, we've been on the road since 9:00 AM and the kids are probably getting tired of being dragged around. We get back and start heading back to Banff. Along the way, I want to stop at that little lake which I found out is named Waterfowl Lake and the last stop will be Peyto Lake. Before heading down the mountain, we stop at that pull off and take pictures of the valley. We stop at Waterfowl Lake and I get some great shots of the sun hitting off the sides of the mountains. On the way down the parkway, we get a special surprise as a lynx crosses over. Unlike other animals, the lynx doesn't stop for a photo op and quickly heads into the forest. Lynx is a rare sight, considering they're secretive in nature. As we drive south, we're looking for Peyto Lake. On the way up we didn't see any signs posted along the highway. We had a map and it showed the location. But we can't find any signs on the way back. The kids are getting crabby and we decide that they've had enough of the Rocky Mountain tour for one day. I'm disappointed, but I understand that kids don't have the threshold that I have. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We make into Banff and check into the hotel. The place we're staying at is the Inns of Banff. When we're looking for lodging we picked this place, because it was inexpensive. However, $250CDN I would expect something more appealing and maintained. Unlike the last place we stayed at, we enter our suite and I'm not impressed. The room is very outdated and the carpet resembles something you see used at a mini putt. The floor squeaked with every step. The furniture had scratches and didn't match the room. Inspection of the bathroom revealed worn grout and the tub looked old. When one of the kids took a shower they complained that the tub was too slow in draining. The walls were paper thin as we can hear everything in the hallways and the room next to us. At least the beds are comfy and I'm dead tired. I'm out before Kim tells me good night. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Friday morning comes and it's our last day in Banff. We have a lot to do today. I get everybody up and we head out for breakfast. I picked a place named Tooloulou's because they have a massive breakfast menu. Tooloulou's is a Creole/Cajun themed-restaurant located on Cariboo street. We walk in and immediately get a table. I look at the menu and I know what I want, a meal packed with carbs and protein for a day of adventure. I get the New Orleans Breakfast skillet. The skillet is bursting with 2 eggs, 2 sausages, back bacon, home fries, grilled tomato, 1 pancake and a buttermilk biscuit. Kim and the kids get much smaller dishes and after eating my entire skillet, I start scavenging the kid's pancakes and home fries. With an almost bursting stomach, we start our adventure. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Bow Valley Parkway/Lake Louise</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We take a drive up the Bow Valley Parkway in hopes of seeing some wildlife. Before entering, Parks Canada has a spot check to see if motorists have a park pass. We get the thumbs up and head north. The weather is decent, but I do wish it was earlier. It's a little past nine in the morning. I specifically look for areas that have meadows or clearings. Since it's early summer, many of the herbivores are trying to pack on the weight they lost during the winter. We drive by a prescribed burn and there's nothing. I purposely pull over to allow other cars to go by. The only thing we see are five mule deer. Back in Ohio, we have plenty of deer so the kids aren't thrilled. We continue to drive and I slow down around meadows only to see nothing. The same can be said at Moose meadows, but I recently read that moose are pretty well absent from the Bow Valley. I'm getting frustrated because I everyone to see a bear. However, there will be none this morning as we get off the parkway and head towards Lake Louise. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Driving along I noticed a large sign along the side of the road says Moraine Lake is open and immediately pull on to the road. I remember reading that parking at the lake is very limited and once the parking lot is full, the road can be closed for extended periods of time. If that's the case, people have to take a shuttle from Lake Louise. Wanting to take advantage of that, I tell everyone we're heading there first. The drive is 11km and the road twists and turns. At one section we see the effects of avalanches as the road to the lake is closed during the winter months. As we get closer the road runs precariously close to a cliff and we see the valley below. Finally, we see our destination, Moraine Lake. The parking lot is indeed small. Probably lucky to fit 50 cars and the rest of the spaces are RVs and buses. We have to drive around three times before finding a spot. We walk to the lake, I see the Moraine Lake Lodge, which I happened to look at but was put off by the $800 per night price. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnRK-gKjihb05GFqwdSQU2rQDi2G-qb0VeADuvCbeUc-25_tLtuoA07W8r9YxJiHICHVKwmA8RUOfsmkDI9lhf-lwipDFxaaWNqBuv_6y6cTEUP2nntjRQ4HWI4MxMRmhbmWHDMZZuEe6/s1600/banff44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lake Agnes teahouse" border="0" data-original-height="1252" data-original-width="1600" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCnRK-gKjihb05GFqwdSQU2rQDi2G-qb0VeADuvCbeUc-25_tLtuoA07W8r9YxJiHICHVKwmA8RUOfsmkDI9lhf-lwipDFxaaWNqBuv_6y6cTEUP2nntjRQ4HWI4MxMRmhbmWHDMZZuEe6/s400/banff44.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">At the end of the lake, there was a huge rock pile and I encouraged the kids to cross over the logs jammed in the stream. There were several kids climbing on the rocks high above. My balance isn't the best so I elected to walk around the back and left Kim watching her kids. I climb up the steps, up towards the observation area. When I reached the top, I was completely awestruck at the scenery, the Valley of the Ten Peaks. The lake</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"> </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;">is a glacially fed</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"> and</span></span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> does not reach its crest until mid to late June. When it is full, it reflects a distinctive shade of blue. The color is due to the refraction</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">of light off the water from the glacial flour being </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(34, 34, 34); color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">deposited in the lake from the meltwater. Usually, the lake doesn't get that color until July and August, but due a warmer spring, the snow melted quicker and despite being early June, the color was magnificent. Then add in the Ten Peaks and the photo opportunities were priceless. The peaks were majestic in stature and color. The image of the peaks and the lake are iconic in Canadian culture as they were on the backs of the 1969 and 1979 </span></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">twenty dollar bills. The clouds roll above some of the peaks and I'm taking a lot of pictures. I head back to get Kim and when I get there I see the kids start heading down the rock pile. We all head up and I take a group picture of them. All of them are impressed with the view. Personally, I think Lake Moraine is one of the most scenic places in Banff. </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Before heading out, we enter the gift shop and the place is full of clothing and trinkets. Usually, I resist buying stuff from places like that because I think it's way overpriced. The kids have money from their grandparents and Kim and her kids all buy the same red Canada hoodies. I chuckle at the cheesy notion of seeing all of them wearing the same outfits. They egg me on to buy one and I dryly reply "We're not the Griswolds".</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJybIF4nRF9hF-hb9Ofl2OzJJfU138Vx6YQLt4Nf69ebEy4ME61cUoXK2mc4EXbb3qT_aAnFapQWV8AATefJBdUM0rQnf0LUcXC3k6_dGYFsQet1YZU0_sSXMMhSyWagguexHl6FMJoD5x/s1600/IMG_1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Icefields Parkway, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1475" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJybIF4nRF9hF-hb9Ofl2OzJJfU138Vx6YQLt4Nf69ebEy4ME61cUoXK2mc4EXbb3qT_aAnFapQWV8AATefJBdUM0rQnf0LUcXC3k6_dGYFsQet1YZU0_sSXMMhSyWagguexHl6FMJoD5x/s400/IMG_1200.jpg" title="" width="368" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We're off to Lake Louise and the teahouse. It's not a far drive once we get off Moraine Lake road, taking only a few minutes. By the time we get there, it's early afternoon. The parking lots are full as we have to park on the upper level. We head down and I see the Fairmount Chateau, the iconic filthy expensive hotel on the shores of the lake. Here you can be shelling out well over a $1000 per night for certain rooms. The shoreline in front of the hotel is a bustling place of people taking pictures. A lady is nice enough to take our pictures and I return the favor for her and her family. We immediately head towards the trail that leads up to the teahouse. The trial was full of people when we started. It was a perfect weather for hiking as it was cool and partly cloudy. The distance from the shores of Lake Louise to the teahouse is roughly 2.2 miles. According to the park, the trail rated moderate and should take depending on your fitness level 1 to 2 hours. The elevation gain is 1,312 feet. The trail was narrow but dry and well maintained. As you climb the trail has a series of switch-backs. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-n6hxw5aucWcFE96xwAfboo1iyt_Qo9QkaChnWz9wp17TIFkBt9ubPg-Cw7ZtdM-rcI3LlBSIvOA5gTGS8CjKKXQMo-TyuyTGGHKRrcMv2EaEdRkyI4h1MVGbJhZDY8FJZFQC3EbnYH5/s1600/banff56.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lake Louise, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-n6hxw5aucWcFE96xwAfboo1iyt_Qo9QkaChnWz9wp17TIFkBt9ubPg-Cw7ZtdM-rcI3LlBSIvOA5gTGS8CjKKXQMo-TyuyTGGHKRrcMv2EaEdRkyI4h1MVGbJhZDY8FJZFQC3EbnYH5/s400/banff56.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My concern was my girlfriend as she has postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome also known as</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #545454; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">POTS and this would be a test for her. She wanted to do it and pacing was the key as was carrying a lot of water. Prior to heading to Banff, she got a saline infusion that would help elevate the symptoms, especially in an area of high altitude. We took our time as Kim had to stop a couple of times to rest as her heart rate went up. Even with the cooler temperatures, I was working up a sweat. I was the pack horse as I had a backpack full of water, food and some clothes. There was more traffic heading down as it was it getting close to mid-afternoon. The trail continued to switch back and forth and I wondered if we would ever get there. Finally, I could see the big beehive and there was a sign for Mirror Lake. We stopped at the lake, to catch our breath. The lake is very small and clear, I smirked at the no fishing sign posted in front of the lake. Above the lake was the big beehive, the rock formation did have a resemblance to a beehive. There's a trail leading from the teahouse that gets you to the top of it. With Kim's condition and two teenagers, which one of them dislikes hiking, beyond the teahouse, would be pushing past their limits. We climb the last stretch and see the stairs. Right next to the stairs is a small waterfall that spills down into the valley below. We make it up the stairs and there's the teahouse. The house was constructed back 1901 by the Canadian Pacific Railway as a refuge for hikers. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScgP2AJeFkGm_jzGnRLMdVjAh_Kn9YRV6KlTnj_px2pWuXZSPoGcWs5thh98ua8oaLUcBiMuC1_H2LpajCZ5TdD0loVEIznGTyPioPZmfhLpah-9H6s3QR8pkQ5WKOdnFChmxXtoRj8lR/s1600/Photo+Jun+15%252C+4+48+01+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Hike to Lake Agnes teahouse" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScgP2AJeFkGm_jzGnRLMdVjAh_Kn9YRV6KlTnj_px2pWuXZSPoGcWs5thh98ua8oaLUcBiMuC1_H2LpajCZ5TdD0loVEIznGTyPioPZmfhLpah-9H6s3QR8pkQ5WKOdnFChmxXtoRj8lR/s400/Photo+Jun+15%252C+4+48+01+PM.jpg" title="" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We find a table outside and the weather is getting colder as clouds roll in and showers begin. We look at the menu and the tea list is extensive. There's also sandwiches, soups, and bread. Hot tea and soup would hit the spot. The waitress comes out and takes our order. Unfortunately, the soup of the day is sold out. We order a kettle of maple blueberry tea, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, banana bread, and a turkey sandwich. The teahouse is cash only and I had $40.00U.S which I thought would be enough. I was short by $5.00 and Kim had enough to cover the rest. Prices are expensive because everything is either hiked up or flown in by helicopter. As expected the food and tea hit the spot. After eating, we hang out at the lake and take some pictures. In the distance, I hear the loud high pitch calls which I thought might be pikas. The calls are coming from the rockpile where pikas prefer to live. I venture over to investigate and found out the calls are actually ground squirrels. Far across the lake, I see some several people hiking up to the top of the beehive or the Plain of the Six Glaciers, where there's another teahouse. I wished we had more time, but it's getting late. The hike down is easier and the scenery is breathtaking. I take pictures of Kim standing on a rock with the mountains in the background. She triumphantly holds her arms up and flexes them as a sign of victory that she made up to the teahouse. Many people with POTS wouldn't have been able to do that hike. We finally make it down and both Kim and her daughter race for the bathroom. I stand around and look at the lake. Tomorrow we head back and I feel a sense of sadness that our time has come to an end. There's so much more I wanted to do. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQEF81DB-LI6qwXBnJExRmg8EwOietvtB80r6x0-cX9rc76fJzI6pujo6vj6Z0CRdMnJqNXdhV7Bajsc96cTkIjiN1daNyp9p6SPiPwHZ6ubH29JOkVnyb6BJuRxyHgT0FmcbHrY2JQ1Y/s1600/banff53.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lake Louise, Alberta" border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQEF81DB-LI6qwXBnJExRmg8EwOietvtB80r6x0-cX9rc76fJzI6pujo6vj6Z0CRdMnJqNXdhV7Bajsc96cTkIjiN1daNyp9p6SPiPwHZ6ubH29JOkVnyb6BJuRxyHgT0FmcbHrY2JQ1Y/s400/banff53.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The evening is spent packing and the kids are exhausted. They went through a lot, being in the backseat for hours and going from one place to the next with no breaks. I could have been harder on them, but Kim cautioned that it would be too much. A part of me wished we could have stayed another day and headed back Sunday. But the kids had to be at summer camp that day.</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Saturday morning we check out and head back to Tooloulou's for breakfast. The weather is gloomy as the clouds are low and it's raining. I do find it amusing that they're all wearing the same outfits they bought from the gift shop at Moraine Lake. The kids are looking forward to summer camp to be with their friends. I, on the other hand, get one day to rest and its back to the grind.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCcVT0KzBx8sN9HDQcdF-e8sMVGJCQdsYtAnfqd4OwskMrEEHpGWGji2_GvB6KQH9u003UuFCzjvTJxKbjJFGdJwTBITMg04_kQwPiFSHe60jv3xY2Z4HLFeLw05Lvc3nPWNpZODGp3g0q/s1600/IMG_1122.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Lake Louise, Banff" border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCcVT0KzBx8sN9HDQcdF-e8sMVGJCQdsYtAnfqd4OwskMrEEHpGWGji2_GvB6KQH9u003UuFCzjvTJxKbjJFGdJwTBITMg04_kQwPiFSHe60jv3xY2Z4HLFeLw05Lvc3nPWNpZODGp3g0q/s400/IMG_1122.jpg" title="" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We hit the road and say farewell to Banff as we head for Calgary. The mountains eventually give way to the prairies and we see the Calgary skyline in the distance. The vacation was a success, even though the weather wasn't ideal. We did a lot in the little time we had there. As we wait for our flight, I look at the pictures I have taken. I have a surprise for Kim when we return as she'll be moving into her new home later in the week. I pick out several pictures of her and the kids and I'm going to have them developed and framed as a house warming gift. I thought of it several days ago, when I took pictures of them at Bow Lake. I have no idea if either of the kids will ever have the opportunity to come back. But I want them to cherish the time with their mother, who has had a rough past couple of years with her chronic illness and a difficult divorce. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iJA0dz4hI26k5KaWhHqot8wpR0pRVtGiqlGVTaCYUTluBgppJQlxIW1VTEuHG0jpPuGXfq8W2afLD5mM0G4OI_KVWM2hyphenhyphene33qxXzIpRFXD9P4wl25lr4-njhqt9Q8MWAq55NGm0HgyjK/s1600/IMG_1040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Athabasca Glacier" border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iJA0dz4hI26k5KaWhHqot8wpR0pRVtGiqlGVTaCYUTluBgppJQlxIW1VTEuHG0jpPuGXfq8W2afLD5mM0G4OI_KVWM2hyphenhyphene33qxXzIpRFXD9P4wl25lr4-njhqt9Q8MWAq55NGm0HgyjK/s400/IMG_1040.jpg" title="" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our plane takes off and I see the last images of Calgary as we head for Minneapolis. We land two hours later and there's a two and half hour layover. I'm bored sitting around and anxious to get home. I look outside and I wished we go back to Banff as there was so much I wanted to do. Imagine the things we could have done there if we spent the entire week. We get the call that our flight is boarding and we take off around 8:45 PM. The return flight is quick as I don't get to finish watching my movie. Our flight lands in Cleveland around 11:20 PM and we're all dead tired. We stand around waiting for luggage and I ask the kids if they enjoyed their time in Canada, both of them said yes. The air is humid when we get out of the airport as I was getting to use to the cool crisp mountain air. It's a 30 minute drive back to Kim's house and we arrive and it's after midnight. The dogs are barking and are excited to see us. As expected her mom has stayed up and greets us. The kids immediately head to bed as they have to be up early in the morning</span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. We settle in bed me and Kim start discussing our next adventure.</span>Greghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02527088251061724468noreply@blogger.com0