Another ghost town...

...I call Hooterville.  One of the very first streams I fished in the Kickapoo valley almost 40 years ago...it was impressive.  Two foot long browns and 18 inch brook trout...and, as flyfishermen, we had it to ourselves.  I remember an elderly gentleman with a zebco 202 and a creel with a 25 inch brown sticking out of each end.  I lost one bigger that day...

Another afternoon while doing well on the stream, my friend and I walked into the bar on the one block long street and the only business in town, to quench our thirst...we found a half dozen local patrons staring at us in our waders and vests with long rods we stacked in a corner.  "You wont catch any fish in the middle of the day..."  We just smiled and said we got a few...40 fish days were common.

One evening caddis hatch had fish on every cast...and, one otter that came out from under a large cottonwood tree, just below a concrete raceway to the old grist mill, to chase the 14 inch brown on my line.  The evening started on caddis but soon the big mayflies started hatching...sulphurs, hendricksons, and just before dusk the hexes were on.  A pair of 20 inch browns ended one of my best evenings ever...

Now, this larger driftless spring creek is on the list of famous waters...guides camping out at access points, flyshops sending sports, and, even locals posting gps just to get back at the guides and flyshops.  Its part of my driftless bakers dozen but I haven't fished it in over a year...

Yesterday, labor day...I decided to check out the crowds.  To my surprise all the bridges were open...it was overcast and middle of the day, but I expected more.  On checking the water I saw the results of heavy flooding and the stream had actually changed course, cutting off an oxbow that had great water.  The new water was not so good but I caught a few early...I walked and visited my old friend.  The path along the stream was wide...the fish were small and fewer.  But, still great water...The clouds gave way to hot sun, so I decided to head upstream to a long un-named spring feeder in the trees.  Well, #46 in my old white 'Trout Streams of Wisconsin' published by WDNR four or five decades ago...but, a true gem.

Once, three of us took turns catching 100 brook trout on one rod in an open meadow halfway up '46'...I caught four on two casts.  It was always the best and if I took someone there I made them wear a paper bag on their head the last few miles...just kidding.  But, that is how much I protected it.  I digress...

So, up the feeder...lost a  bigger fish under the bridge but caught some as I moved upstream.  Small springs, and even the limestone abutment to either an old bridge or possibly a mill had a spring flowing out of its base and entertained me besides the trout. I left just before that old meadow...I wasn't sure I could stand the changes.  The old grist mill in town still stands but the bar is long gone...decay still rules but there is signs of life.  Mostly in the form of flyfishers...but, the few homes are in better shape, and just maybe, some day the old bar will open.  And, once again I can walk in wearing my waders, stack my rod in the corner, and order a cold one.  If only this old ghost town can stand so much love...