Unit 48 Idaho

Just got a call back from a wildlife biologists that works unit 48 in Idaho. He gave me some good insight on the land. I’m looking at a area that doesn’t see a lot of hunters but a lot of recreational use. I’m not sure to take it as a positive or a negative. One piece of info is hunt it early in the season, high altitude and snow comes around November. So far the information he gave me was a positive. Need to call on some units in Colorado, got a tip from a friend about some areas.

 I struggle with giving to much info on public land. While learning how to fly fish and where to. Dudes were dicks on helping me. They would give all sorts of techniques but where is a big no. Mostly fishing shop and fly shops, a place that makes money on me catching fish. I work at a bike shop and people ask me all the time where to ride? I’m happy to help them. A fly shop wants to keep the sweet spot to himself. When customers ask me where do I fish? I am damn happy to tell them where and the exact location and what to use. My idea is get them out and enjoying life to the fullest. None of my spots are blown up and not usable anymore. 

One spring day around 10 or so. I hit a spot I call the honey hole. Every cast I was catching a keeper size of smallmouth. Hearing people on land saying oh he caught another one. Seeing them getting frustrated with me catching awesome smallies and they were kind of catching fish. I’ve stayed in that spot for 2hours or so and began to get hungry. I watched a younger adult stroll over to me and ask me if I care if he fishes here? I said no and I’m getting bored of catching all the fish and need to eat. I told him to stand right in the exact location and cast right at the 2 rocks, let it swing for about 5-10 seconds and the strip in. Even gave him a few flies. I left to get a snack roamed around town to check on a few carp spots. I came back as the kid was leaving and asked how he did. He said it was a riot and he was done and satisfied for the day. He told me thanks and we parted ways. The honey hole is still there people know about it, I still fish it. It’s a river I or we don’t own spots or locations. I know I’m out of the norm on this but let’s all play nice and teach all to everyone. 

This was a smallmouth I caught almost every day of a week in the same spot with the same fly. I named that spot smallville. The day I didn’t catch it and I noticed some caddis being taken off the top I switched to a muddler style fly and caught my first steelhead. 


My History, What has made me!

Coffee is made, and some music is on and its time to get everything on paper or the Interweb. Im a Michigan man thru n thru, born and raised. I grew up in Grand Blanc MI, my Mother worked for the United States Post Office and my Father worked in the plants of General Motors. Almost everyone in my family worked for GM at one time. I grew up with the thought of working on cars was a bad thing. I would walk to the post office and chill in the backroom after some school days. I have a older sister that I wanted to do whatever she was doing during the younger years. My parents divorced when I was 3 or so. So I don’t have any memory of a regular mother n father in the house at once. My Father remarried and had my little brother, he was always trying to do whatever I was doing. I was given the chance to do any kind of recreation that was out there. Don’t care to read but love writing, I think thats why my writing suffers. I believe I had a wonderful childhood pretty normal.

One hunting season my father was on his way to pick me up from my mothers house. He showed up with a dirt bike laying down in the back of it, laying ontop of all the necessary hunting supplies we took to the property. I couldn’t believe my eyes! He told me he picked it up at a garage sale for cheap and wanted to give me the chance to ride a dirt bike. So we headed to the Great Up North. My uncle owned some property around Au Gres MI. Thru the years we started to get more motor vehicles up there. I was starting to out grow the 4-wheelers and 3-wheelers so a dirt bike was the next step. The trip up to hunting camp was amazing. We would stop at the great Tony’s in Birch Run for breakfast and leftovers. Roll thru Pinconning MI for some cheese. Stop at Franks for some last minute clothing, bullets, license etc. I was still growing and all the hand me downs were to small for me usually.

My uncle is a short dude, about 5’4″ and my father is around 5’9″. I out weight them both and taller. Loved wearing what my father and uncle wore, it made me feel like them.

We took about 50% highway then hit roads to take us to the hot spots for some supplies. the whole time in the truck I kept looking back at the Dirt Bike, dreaming of what I am going to do with it. A kid in a candy store that is actually getting candy. A few more spots before the roads to hunting camp. My father and I usually arrived after my uncle had already settled in, sometimes the gate was open with a fire already going burning brush. Shed doors open cleaning out the mess the critters maid over the year from last. See the property was only used for hunting bow and rifle. after the season it was shut down and not seen until the next year.

Freshest Beats

It was a Awesome feeling pulling into the camp waving to my uncle and sometimes a friend he brought up with him. hop out of the truck and start unloading. There was a spot in the circle drive that made it easy to unload the dirt bike. Back up to the little bank and drop the tailgate and roll it off. I couldn’t start it yet, more work to unload. Sometimes we would get there, unload and then take the truck to go grab a truckload of sugar beets. On the way up we would scout to see who was carrying truck loads of beets, check out the prices.

truck is unloaded my dad and uncle are looking over the dirt bike and I’m just in utter amazement. My dad lays down the rules for me. See I have been riding ATV’s for some time. I grew up jumping bicycles and 4-wheelers so this thing wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. My dad goes first with trying to kick it, its a no-go! we study the bike acting like we know what we are doing. My uncle is a wizard with tractors so he can do anything, in my mind. The bike fires up after pulling plugs and cleaning them off. It dies after hitting the throttle! We repeat this process for a hour or so, with no results in me zipping around doing wheelies n shit. Thats how I thought life was going to be like after this bike got started. We run to the local motorcycle Harley shop in town for some stuff to see if we can get it going. We finally figured that gas leaked while laying down in the truck and fouled some stuff. I really can’t remember exactly but we got it going after 2 hours of fiddling and drying. I was the happiest hunter that year. My uncle owns about 60acres that are long stripes of 15 or so. one field was open and not much hunting was used for that so that was my dirt track. Flat with a small ditch that I made a big part of my ripping back in forth. We had some small dunes that I jumped a lot but during the season when other hunters were at the property next door I kind of stayed away. I am ripping hot laps making a track out of this 2-3 acre chunk. just having a blast. This bike didn’t have a front brake. Thats ok because I didn’t need brakes? ripping across the land pulling wheelies, making my own berms and just flat out having a ball. The chain snapped on me. I pick up the chain and start to walk back where my father and uncle are  standing around the fire pit. They said they heard a snap and quickly checked the crank case to see if the chain hit it. No major damage was done except my ability to rip hot laps until we get home to buy a new chain.

I played all kind of sports, soccer and baseball was my favorite. I was a pitcher up to middle school and they said I didn’t have any junk to throw. Defense in soccer till high school then mid. I finished the last 2 years of high school at a different school then growing up. Old friends stayed friends but we separated fast. Starting a new school in junior year was tough but playing soccer helped to make friends, I was, new kid. My mother lost her job at the post office and she moved to Florida to be with her parents and help them. I chose not and moved in with my dad. It was life changing but I rolled pretty decent.

around age of 13 I was a regular fixture at hunting camp, bow n rifle. I had a 10-22 ruger that I would take out during the afternoons and shoot anything that moved. Always came home with a bunch of chipmunks and chickadees. Started to get better and come home with squirrels for dinner. Hunting for us was the morning hunt roll back to camp around 11-12. Figure out what the plan for activities was, cleaning, get a old lawn mower running, get the tractor running, collect firewood. after some good down to earth work somebody would go in for a nap. myself would find target practice be entertaining or riding the awesome vehicles. The time was to get ready for the night hunt. We would all talk about where we were going and load up and head out. It was a blast walking next to my dad and uncle with our weapons. It was a about a 300 yard walk to the woods. we walked down a 2track to a creek and then split up. Honestly we hunted on maybe 15 acres. when I fine tuned my skills I could sit in my spot and lean a certain way and pick out everyone hunting on the land. I feel my uncle would go off in a area to just get away from everyone, not resulting in a deer but just checking the not so good spots out. As the sun settles. one by one I would watch the flashlights start to walk down the trails. Hear the creaking of a old ladder, the old hinges to a door on the shack. Maybe spook a few little yearlings. sometimes we walked back together or just my dad and I. More fun was to be had if we heard someone shoot or just the stories of what you saw. We had a giant fire pit that was always full with wood collected thru the afternoons. we used gas or old oil to start the massive fire. every year someone did collect a deer for the freezer but nothing special. Doe’s is what we wanted the most, MEAT! Some years everyone got deer and others, well you know the story. Thru the years I didn’t see many bucks, I wasn’t tuned yet for them. I moved around to much. My dad would tell me he could hear me moving and see me, I thought sitting still for a minute was a lifetime. Later in my teens I started to take it more serious and learn other methods and a result see more deer. stay out after everyone left the woods. walk quieter and stalk the woods. Sit in different but the same areas just to get a different view. No  I wasn’t getting the big bucks but seeing more than the Fawn who lost its mother the day before. I was doing things that my father and uncle would say why? but I was getting results in seeing deer.

I have 2 kids and always try to express the importance that something takes time. I use to sit in the basement trying to ollie my skateboard for days.



2008 hunting season, I think the best buck my Father has ever shot. My brother and were walking just chilling after the morning hunt and heard a shot. it was awesome walking up to my dad to see his excitement in his eyes, deer down he said.