Friday, January 13, 2012
My first experience with Black Water was with my Dad. He would take me Brook Trout fishing on the small , tannin stained streams of Northern Wisconsin. The stream that I have the fondest memories of, and is likely responsible for my love of Black Water is the Blueberry Creek, a small tributary to the Bois Brule River. The Blueberry is a small stream, barely 6 feet across in most places, that originates in conifer swamps just south of Maple, WI, and winds it's way like a black velvet ribbon on it's journey to the Brule. The pools looked bottomless and mysterious. Frightening to a seven year old boy who could picture him sinking slowly out of sight with just one misplaced step!
I visit the Blueberry often, though I dont think I've fished it in over ten years. From the looks of it I'm about the only one. The brushy trails along the banks are totally grown in, I honestly don't think it can be fished more than a couple of times a season. I cant beleive that the trails I walked as a kid were solely the result of my dad and I tromping up and down the banks. It's kind of sad that there are no dads bringing thier young sons or daughters down there to introduce them to the magic of Black Water.
My home river is the Mother of all Black Water. There is miles of it. Deep corners, little "Knome" holes up under the cedar roots, crevasses amonst rocks, spring holes that apear to be bottomless, and for all I know are. There is more Black Water on my river than I will fish in a lifetime, but it's going to be damn fun trying!