Summers are for Samantha

Summer in the Steelyard represents a time of many activities. Warm nights are spent enjoying domestic beers at Wilbert’s, watching our beloved Cleveland Indians at the Corner of Carnegie and Ontario - Sunny days bring laps around the golf course (whether working or playing). However, an itch still persists. Evenings on Lake Erie bring shallow water walleyes to the net. Coolers fill up with delicious yellow perch. A trip or two across state lines, to small streams holding summer runs of skamania steelhead can help with the itch. Yet something doesn’t feel quite right without crisp fall air, breath visible in the morning fog and river banks painted in the vibrant reds and oranges of fall.

While going about our summer bustle, the Steelyard Boys would be fools to ignore the ever present urge to chase steelhead and salmon in a river. Back in 2012 we found a remedy for this desire caused by the summer blues of rivers devoid of steelhead (these migratory fish spend the summer in deep cold water putting on their feed bag for fall and winter spawning runs). Our annual King Salmon trip to Northern Michigan has served us well in the years since.

The Fishmonster and Captain taking a celebratory photo after a great day on the river.

This trip never fails to scratch the itch, create memories, cause stomach pain resulting from laughter, and leaves us with a newfound love of the outdoors. The adventure itself usually occurs in mid to late August as waves of 10-30 pound chrome bright Chinook (King) salmon are beginning to make their spawning runs from the depths of Lake Michigan. We hope to intercept these silver freight trains as they move upstream into the timber-laden sandy sanctuaries of Northwestern Michigan’s streams. Riparian is the environment, angry are the fish, ready are the boys.

Riparian is the environment, angry are the fish, ready are the boys.

The Adventure:

It’s said that adventure is the spice of life. The steelyard boys Michigan adventures start the evening of the annual salmon trip. A valuable tip from the boys: a Volvo can make it from the Eastern Border of Manistee National Forest to Lake Michigan on a quarter tank of fuel and one headlight. While the planning and excitement have been building for months, its at its peak when we meet somewhere between Cleveland and Detroit to pack into the car and head north. Generally speaking, gear and snacks outnumber people 3:1. Over the past few years there have been more than a couple through-the-night drives, not a passenger asleep, but rather a vehicle filled with chatter and excitement knowing sunrise would bring laughter (and hopefully fish) on the water. At this point the fish are a bonus. We’ve tested the limits of ratchet straps, secured rafts to roofs, thrown kayaks in the back of trucks, forewent conventional restrooms so as to make the best time possible, rolled windows down to grab said “secured rafts” on the roof preventing them from flying off, but never once lost a piece of gear, not yet anyway. Hour of arrival to the campsite is irrelevant, a good luck toast to the next few days of fishing hard and sleeping very little is a must.

Branches is locked and loaded with the float raft.

The Company:

The late summer salmon trip is as much about battling the alpha fish of Lake Michigan as it is about getting the boys together. The inaugural trip was forged by Captain Bigwater and the Fishmonster. Leaving college, driving through the night, hiking through what seemed like a half-mile long blackberry bush in a thunderstorm, and doing hand to hand battle with fresh salmon. Each year we’ve had the pleasure of bringing along at least one newcomer on the trip. Whether it be family or friends, experienced or not, the company makes the trip. Few smiles are larger than those belonging to a fisherman after banking his first king salmon.

After arriving at 1 A.M. Branches and LRD have a traditional night cap before calling it quits for a few hours.

For as much as we talk about the trip, it truly comes to fruition sitting around a campfire cooking dinner and prepping kayaks and gear….almost as if to say “i told you so” when listening to the disbelief at the strength and fight displayed by a salmon fresh from the lake.

The Company makes the trip.

The Madness:

It’s likely to put you in a state of meditation. To be floating a stretch of river with nary a road or train track in sight. Banks of the narrow river made tighter yet by willows, red chokeberry, and blackhaw viburnums. The water clear and clean, shallow in most parts with sand bottom stemming from the dunes of Western Michigan. As we float downstream our casts target the dark deep water. Hoping under their calm surfaces lay a beast to be awakened. Just when you think you’re in the ultimate state of relaxation, the bobber plummets to the depths or a tug is felt on your crankbait, and the madness follows. Hooking into a king salmon could be compared to tying your lure to a passing freight train and attempting to reel it in. When trolling for kings in Lake Michigan it is not uncommon for fisherman to experience drag screaming runs where these fish peel of 200 feet of line in mere seconds. Put that same fish in 10 feet of water, with timber piles and downed trees bottlenecking a river no more than 30 yards wide, and a memorable battle is sure to ensue. Immediately following hookset, the first ten seconds tells all. You’re likely to find the fish you’ve just hooked 50 yards upstream, jumping into a log jam before breaking your leader leaving you excited and heartbroken before you know what’s happened.

Fishmonster sets the hook on an early morning timber savage.

If luck is on your side, your leader will hold and you’ll get a chance at doing battle with a king. Make it past the one minute mark and you’ve got a real shot at getting the fish to net. Over logs, under snags, upstream, back down, drag screaming, and finally to the net. A fish worthy of the title “king”. These fish often get a reputation around the Great Lakes as being “boots”, old and rotting. While it is true that salmon do begin to breakdown towards the end of their spawning runs (unlike steelhead that can spawn and return to the lake, salmon die at the end of their spawning run replenishing the next generation of river residents with nutrients), catching them fresh into the river is an excitement rivaled by few. It should be one cherished by many. The Steelyard Boys leave the annual salmon trip with dreams and plans for next year, ready and primed for the upcoming steelhead season.

Hate to see them go, love to watch them leave.