Terry Drinkwine Outdoors!

Fly Fishing, Grouse Hunting and Fine Bird Dogs Spoken Here!

Even a blind squirrel …..


It was like waking after a long sleep … not sure where you are, where you’ve been but somehow in familiar surroundings. When I crashed through the brush after circling a mucky section of low-land high up on the headwaters of the Jordan, I came to not only a clearing, but the river. I was sure I had been here before but didn’t remember when or how I got here. I’m sure I would have remembered and returned many times.

There was meadow 30 yards deep on one side and bushes of various type hanging over the river on the other. Vegetation was growing on the bottom on the south side and gravel runs were on the north. A channel meandered crisscross between the banks. In 40 yard intervals, there were sweepers and submerged logs creating eddies and cascading falls to a lower level, forming three foot pools. It was almost like a brochure created to get you to sign up for a week’s stay at a lodge, only there was no lodge.

There were no hatches I could see, but several trout splashed above and below me. The only decision to make was whether to fish upstream with a dry or down with a wet. My natural tendency won out and a wet BWO was tied on to the 5 wt. 7’6’’ bamboo.

It was eerie; this place wasn’t exactly in a desolate place … isolated but desolate. I had parked the car at an overgrown pull-off and just began walking to where the river must be. There was thick underbrush that had to be gone through or around and eventually my wadding boots got stuck in muck and an alternate route had to be sought. At that point I was just busting brush to get to a clearing. And to my surprise, the river appeared.

The Jordan isn’t as manicured as the Au Sable, Boardman or Manistee. By that I mean, it doesn’t get the respect these other rivers do. The Jordan isn’t on the top of the DNR’s list of “things to do,” especially the upper stretch. But it is beautiful and occasionally will surprise and reward the dedicated piscator.

This place was too perfect. I couldn’t believe no one had found this section. After flailing for several hours, I made my way upstream to where two small creeks entered and discovered they weren’t creeks at all, just cuts in the river formed by small islands. Beyond the second island, a bare spot along the bank appeared. It was overgrown but had once been a two-track. I followed the overgrown trail and came to a deep depression that was man-made. It had been dug to close off the two-track to motorized vehicles and been forgotten. From the dirt road it was almost invisible because of the encroachment of the surrounding forest.

Without a GPS I needed to remember this old path. When I returned to the car, quickly getting out of my waders, I drove to the trail and set the trip indicator to zero and wrote down the mileage to where I entered the valley.

Now, where did I put that damn paper?




Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Copyright © 2024 Terry Drinkwine Outdoors!