First Foray into the World of Steeheading - Bois Brule, Wisconsin Day 4: Saturday, October 17

Saturday, we parked on the west side of the river near where Route 13 crossed the Brule.  We figured if we hit it early, we'd work our way upstream where there were a lot of pools with no other access nearby and try to reach Bozzo Run, maybe ever Trail's End, before having to hike out before dark.  

  

David had warned me that the weather was going to throw some precipitation at us today - starting with snow and then perhaps turning to rain.  Classic steelhead weather!  We didn't have to wait long before a steady light snow started coming down.   

 It did put a nice blanket on the trees and the shore and reminded this Virginia Beach-boy that I was lucky to be in the woods in Wisconsin.   

We continued to hopscotch our way upstream, passing Hair Pin Bend, Island Pool, and Magic Bob's.  The snow picked up, but we didn't pay it any mind as we tried to repeat the magic of the day before.  We continued to nymph, not ready to to switch tactics and swing big streamers. 

As the snow transitioned to rain, my old Patagonia SST jacket began to wet out, but we just keep on fishing and moving, casting, mending, drifting, and moving.  

  

At one point I had to get down a steep slope and the exposed clay trail presented a clear and present danger.  Even though I was careful and had anticipated vegetation grab bars to make my way down, I started slipping and could not slow my roll.  I tried to protect my telephone pole of a rod, but in the process, came slamming down on my hip - of course on the side where I've had hip replacement surgery.  I was banged up!  I limped along and tried to just ignore the pain.  

 

By midday, the rain had stopped.  I met up with David and we took a break and had some lunch.  He showed me how to catch snowflakes...

 

...and then got back to work.  

 

    

The pools are not marked so when we ran into the few other anglers we saw, we'd ask them if they knew where we were.  No one did.  When we ran into one pair and asked the question, they replied that they had walked from the next parking lot to the south so they figured we were both about half  way in between.  That would put us at Bozzo Run or maybe Little Dutchman.  We thought it was getting late and we would need an hour to make it back to the parking lot, especially in my gimpy condition, so we turned around.  David took this picture at Pyramid Rock, the one place we did know where we were.  Perhaps I selected the wrong photo, because from the right angle it does look like a pyramid.            

We continued north and I was somewhat dejected by my skunk.  David had caught a brown trout early so his string had not been broken.  Limping, I negotiated the couple of stream crossings and we made it back to Route 13.  We got out of our waders, and me out of my wet layers, and the car pointed itself to the Hungry Trout Inn.  They were out of the local beer on tap, so we had to get cans of lager for me to medicate.  Empty as on previous nights, I had wet jackets strewn about in the vain hopes they would dry.  

 

We got "Waino" burgers and fries again...

 ... and because it was still early, we played a couple of games of pool to burn some time before returning to the campsite and our sleeping bags.

 Before departing, I took a few pictures of the bar to document the gestalt of the place.

 

 

 Even thought the nights were in the low 20s, I was never cold.  I had purchased a silk sleeping bag liner and they say the liners add 5-10 degrees of warmth to any bag.  I'm a believer and would strongly recommend one for any cold-weather camping trip. 

 

We collected tinder for the breakfast-making fire, and then retired hoping that I would be able to walk and wade ably the next morning.