This is going to be my first post in quite a while, but I need to brag a little. For my senior gift, my family took me to Beaver Island, Lake Michigan, for some flats fishing. I'm limited on data, so I can't post all the beautiful pictures we have, but rest assured it was the prettiest water I have ever seen. I've never seen water this clear ever. Not offshore, not on a fabulous day in the keys: never. You can look up pictures of Beaver Island if you don't believe me. The people and atmosphere of "America's Emerald Isle" were just as lovely. Unfortunately, as we were arriving in Michigan, so was a cold-front. The first morning we fished was brutally cold in the clothes I had brought, but the afternoon turned out nicely. We started out accidentally hooking quite a few massive smallmouth. After casting to well over 75 carp in the morning, which the guide explained probably would not bite due to the cold weather, we pulled up along a long, thin finger of land stretching off of a small island. This rocky peninsula was lined with carp, and we began picking targets and making casts. Eventually, after hours of casting, I was rewarded with a take, a fight, and a release of a beautiful carp. The take was unlike anything I've ever experienced carp fishing before. The carp turned, chased down the fly, and swam off with it. I felt a carp bite! That would never happen back in Pennsylvania. Soon after, I hooked another. The next day seemed promising. The water had already had an afternoon to warm, and the temperatures promised to only climb more. False. After a beautiful morning, clouds rolled in and we had to slug it out in pretty terrible conditions. Didn't have so much as a follow all day, although we did land countless more trophy smallies. The guide was obviously doing everything he could to get me on some fish, and taught me more in those two days that I would have learned in two years of doing it myself. That was it on Beaver Island, however, and we returned to Traverse City for our last day of vacation. I did some talking to the an awesome employee at the local Orvis (couldn't have been much older than me), and he told me where I could go to try to get some carp on my final day. I rigged up my under-powered 6 weight with some 12 pound fluoro tippet and a crayfish fly, bought some cheap waders, and set off. Another cold, rainy day made the fishing hard, but after a surprising quick time, I stumbled upon a feeding carp. I cast to him a few times, never putting my fly where I wanted to. Then, voila. I made a half decent cast, and fish on. The fish almost ran my Hydros 7/8 reel out of backing! Yet alas, when I landed the carp, I realized he was snagged in the gill. I kept at it though, and soon made a rare good cast to a shadowy fish that was obviously on the prowl. I hoped my fly, he turned, and I felt the tug. I set the hook, got him to the reel, and started screaming in excitement. Fast forward a few seconds, and the hook has pulled. I wait around for a little while longer, but see no more fish. I make the walk back to shore, figuring my dad is ready to go. He encourages me to try again, so I walk back out, but this time to another pocket that looks promising. It was a little deeper, so I had to stand on a big boulder to avoid waves in my hip waders. Fish after fish ignore my fly as I'm surrounded by huge carp. Then I feel the tug on a strip. The carp jumps, and I figure something is up. After a very odd run, the I begin to reel the fish back in, and I am not too optimistic for a fair-hooked fish. My suspicions are confirmed as I land him, seeing the hook firmly embedded in his tail. But it was time to go, so I had to settle for one fair-hooked, lost carp on the Michigan flats. Which was still a dream come true, honestly. I couldn't have asked for a better trip. Here is the guide's report: http://thirdcoastfly.com/
