Trout, Brisket, Lifers and Wheelers

It was an exceptionally boring day at work when an e-mail plopped into my inbox. The subject line read: "Frick work let’s get drunk and eat chicken fingers" I was immediately intrigued by this notion so I opened the e-mail post haste. My good buddy and co-worker Aaron was inviting me down to his farm in Preston MN for trout opener. he said there will be much better food than chicken fingers because he was planning on smoking a big fat ass brisket for us on Friday. Having a pretty dang Jewish mother and a BBQ-ing father I am no stranger to a good brisket and my mouth was already watering. Aaron was also excited about a branch of the South fork Root river he had discovered a few years back that gets very little pressure from fishermen and is only ten minutes from his farm.Needless to say I was sold on this weekend trip. My plan was to wrangle up a few buddies, put my Honda 3 wheeler on the trailer hook up and leave town on friday. I knew that the root river is famous for Redhorse so I called my good buddy and fishing cohort Moose and asked him about Redhorse on the root. He was as always very helpful and gave me some pointers on where to look for good redhorse hang outs. I told him about my goal to nab a black redhorse and he said "it' ain't no easy task son" but he bid me good luck and told me if all else fails I should be able to catch some stonecats after dark pretty much anywhere on the root. So off I went with my old rusty trusty suburban, my buddy Eric -The Tan sitting shotgun and full cooler of Grainbelt tall boys all ready for the weekend. 

The drive down was quick only two hours and fifteen minutes from my house in White Bear Lake. We passed some fishy looking spots on the way down and picked out a good one to fish that evening after dark and after setting up camp for the weekend. Aaron told me to be mindful of the Amish buggies on the road to his farm because all his neighbors are Amish and they would be heading back home around the same time I would be arriving at the farm. As soon as we turned off highway 52 we saw our first Amish buggy followed by another and another and another. Aaron was hoping for his Amish neighbor Shorty to make an appearance this weekend at his farm. From what he has told me Shorty is not your typical Amish. In Aaron's own words "Shorty has a cell phone and he rolls around in his buggy with a 1.75 of fireball and a cooler of Michelob ultra." This I just had to see. 

We got to the farm, set up camp and cracked a cold one and by that time dinner was almost ready. Aaron spent 13 hours the night before smoking a brisket and it was out of this world delicious, with nothing more than salt and pepper and hickory chips it was one of the best briskets I've had since the great Passover Brisket of 2009. With bellies full of meat, beans, and tater salad we geared up to head to the fishy looking spot we passed on the Root on the way down just after dark. 

Eric-The Tan was at the helm of rusty trusty burby as yours truly was quite possibly over served at dinner and didn't want to start the weekend off with a night in the drunk tank. We found the spot fairly easily in the dark, unloaded and proceeded down to the bank of the Root near a bridge overpass. The plan was to soak some crawler wads for a few hours and then head back to camp. We found a decent spot to set up shop and my first cast was a long cast out into the deep pool that was near the far bank from where we were standing. I managed to find a spot so sit on the muddy bank and no sooner did my cheeks hit the ground I saw one hell of a sharp rap on my rod tip. I scrambled to take my rod from the rod holder and before I could holler YEEHAW I had on the first fish of the trip. The fish put up a spectacular fight on light tackle and I could tell it was sizable. We failed to remember to take the net out of the suburban so Eric-The Tan was crouched down at the water line ready to snatch up the would be first fish of the trip. In true tiger style Eric hauled up my first Redhorse of the trip with gusto and handed it to me ASAP for pictures and identification. In my current state of inebriation I was so excited I tired to run up the bank to higher ground but alas the fish jumped from my hands and hung in the air for what seemed an eternity and fell with a loud splash back into the river. The stream of expletives that left my mouth after that was worthy of a Tarantino film. Beaten but not defeated and still cursing under my breath I re-baited and tossed back out into the same spot with the exact same results. A sharp rap on the rod came almost immediately and with a good hook set I had on my second fish of the trip. Another good fight ensued and I became increasingly annoyed that we had left the net in the truck. But Eric in his true tiger style fashion managed to yet again snatch up my second catch with lighting quick speed. I wasn't going to F this one up this time. I grabbed the fish from Eric who, for good reason, was reluctant to hand it over with what had happened with the first horse. Well I sure did F it up AGAIN. The fish being bigger than the first had a lot of spunk left and leapt from my hands like it was spring loaded and flopped back into the river. This time all I could do was stand on the muddy bank in silence, dumbfounded at what had just happened not once but twice. Eric was seemingly unfazed by this and simply told me I was "the biggest dingle-berry on the river" I had to agree with him. Farts, I fricked it up again. The whole project seemed just plain dicked and I was about to run back to the burb and get my net when the tan man got a bite of his own! The rod was barely bent against whatever he had on his line and when he pulled his catch from the river we were pleasantly surprised to see a spunky little Stone cat at the end of his line. It seemed the whole project wasn’t as dickered as I thought and we rejoiced as this was the first lifer of the trip and we did manage to get pictures. 

A few more stonecats later and it was getting late time to head back to the farm and get some sleep for the early morning of trout fishing we had ahead of us. We were just getting packed up to head back to the truck when I decided I wanted to wash up in the river real quick as I was sweaty, sticky, and stinky from the evening.  On about the second step down to the water’s edge I hit a slicker than snot patch of the bank and went sliding home plate style straight into the river. Needless to say I learned my lesson about having a few too many grain belts before going fishing in the dark in a new spot. I sloshed and slogged my way back to the truck happy I had packed extra dry cloths to change into back at camp. I chalked the evening up as a win for us even though I fell into the drink and dropped my first two root river redhorse in the river we still had pictures of stonecats which were lifers for both Eric and I.

The next morning came very early. My alarm went off at 5:30am and I would have kept right on sleeping if it hadn’t been for an extremely heinous brisket fart that made me escape my side of the now fumigated tent. I left Eric to fend for himself as I escaped for fresher air. A few quick cups of cowboy coffee and we were on the road headed towards a branch of the South Fork Root. There was a fishy feel to the air that morning and I knew today would be a good day, except for the fact I had packed my 1000 gram insulated duck hunting waders instead of my trout waders. This would prove to be a very sweaty, chafing, and uncomfortable mistake. The first brown trout of the trip made an appearance in a small pool adjacent to a set of small rapids.  

We kept hiking down the stream to a pool that was quite deep and harbored quite a few species much to our delight. Despite having gut rot and swamp ass from the previous several hours of hot farting in my waders I was having a ball. The species kept coming. Creek chubs in beautiful spawning colors were all tubered up and biting prolifically.

Common shiners were making an appearance as well as a few horny head chubs and white suckers. The trout were also doing their part and we had some real good eater sized brooks and browns in the creel bag for dinner later that night. I kept seeing fish flaring and turning on one side of the pool and I tossed my piece of crawler in the area and a moment later I was pulling in sweet common shiner (another lifer). Next to come and play was a nice specimen of a horny head chub which was Also a lifer!

Eric- The Tan with his first lil Brookie of the season.

Hot, hungry, stinky, sweaty, thirsty but successful we hiked back to the trucks and headed back to the farm for lunch and some 3 wheeling around the property

Lunch was brisket tacos with avocado and hot sauce which was just what the Dr. ordered for us hungry fisherman. Filled up and feeling fat and sassy we made our game plan for the afternoon which was to head to a different stretch of the Root and fish until dark. It was only a short drive to the next spot we placed on fishing by another bridge overpass on the Root. The first few hours were quite slow but it was the middle of the afternoon and I wasn’t expecting to catch much until the sun got lower in the sky. We got checked by the game warden who was very friendly and answered all my assholey questions about redhorse and where the trout were biting. About an hour later Eric-The slight more tan than before, got a solid thump on his rod with a bottom rig. He set the hook and pulled up a nice white sucker which was a lifer for him!

I followed up his bite with a Whitey of my own only a few minutes later.

We both were hoping for Redhorse this afternoon but we were still just as happy to catch these whites. A few more trout were pulled in and we had the makings for a nice smoked trout dinner.

Smoked trout for dinner

The next day none of us were able to get up at the crack of dawn due to being over served the evening before. The smoked trout dinner was superb and I could still smell smokey particles of trout lodged under my fingernails from the savage feasting. The plan was to catch a few more trout before lunch then head back to the farm to strike camp and head home. We caught a few more Browns and Brook trout that morning but nothing of note. We headed back to farm for lunch and to pack up. I thanked Aaron for the hospitality and though we didn’t get to meet his unique Amish neighbor that weekend Aaron told me to come back for morel mushroom season in a few weeks and we would be sure to meet the infamous fireball drinking 5 foot 2 Amish neighbor Shorty. I will be sure to cover that story in the next installment.

On the way home we decided to make an impromptu stop at the first place I had caught the Redhorse  when I fell into the drink. It was too nice of a day to not make a another stop at the Root and we had plenty of crawlers left to do so. Before we left the truck I was sure to grab the net this time just in case. A few minutes later we had our lines in and Eric and I were reminiscing about the weekend when I saw my rod tip pop and bend. I was up quickly to grab my rod and set the hook. The fish was heavy in the current and did not want to turn. After a few tense seconds I managed to turn the fish towards shore.  In the gin clear water I could see a Redhorse on the end of my line heading towards shore. Eric scrambled for the net and the fish saw what was happening and made the classic mad dash back towards the main current. A few more tense seconds later and I had the fish turned again this time to swim right into the net. Eric is an excellent net man and I always trust him to land my fish but this time I was a little nervous because of our previous experience with this spot. But lo and behold the fish was captured and photographed! A nice Silver!

After getting this fish back into the water several minutes passed when Eric-The Sun Burnt saw the end of his rod dancing, he set the hook and when his rod doubled over I knew he had hooked a really solid fish. Eric’s fish made some even more impressive runs and I was ready with the net on shore. I took my boots off so I could stand in the river and not have a repeat of two nights ago. The fish made a run towards shore and again I could see a horsie at the end of the line. The fish came right up to shore and made a dead stop at the bank. I was thrown off guard and when I dipped the net in to scoop up Eric’s catch the fish slammed er’ into first gear and punched it Dale Earnhardt Jr. Style and made a line screaming run back into the channel. Eric-the enthused was really loving this fight! Finally he wore the fish down enough for me to net it and he had himself his first silver redhorse.

With two Redhorse now caught AND photographed we felt like we had won a personal victory. They weren’t Black redhorse but shit they were awesome catches and an awesome close to the weekend. I decided to throw out one last cast before we made our way home. Half an hour or so went by with no bites when Eric- The Sun Burnt saw my rod getting slammed and hollered at me to set the hook. I felt a heavy fish at the end of the line but something was different this fish was making twists and turns in the current and I couldn’t get a good gauge on what it was. The more line I reeled in the more I thought I had hooked something that wasn’t a redhorse. My inclinations were correct when Eric yelled “sweet crap it’s a brown!” I saw the trout turn upstream at the bank right before Eric got him in the net and it was a spectacular feeling. I have never caught a trout on a glob of worms on the bottom with a circle hook before. This one would really go down in the books.

All in all it was a great trip. Learned a few lessons, caught some new lifers, and ate some great eats. Other than having to air out my fart waders when I got home the weekend was an overall success black redhorse or no black Redhorse Eric-The Tan and I sure did have fun.