Home again, Home again, Jiggity jig.

It doesn't matter if I just spent a week chasing Taimen in Mongolia or if I'm just getting back from a trip in Labrador fishing for trophy Brook Trout.  Whenever I return home from a fishing vacation I don't truly feel at home again until I've reacquainted myself with local waters.  Upon arriving back in the Twin Cities area last Thursday evening from my trip to Wyoming I already had in my mind a picture of what I would be doing on Friday.  I you guessed fishing than you are correct.

There is a Brook Trout stream that I initially visited in my early teens that I hadn't been back to since.  It's been on my bucket list for a long time to make a triumphant return and Friday would be that day.

While high noon on a sunny day isn't exactly the best time to begin a Brook Trout fishing outing a guy also has to sleep in once in a while.  While I've backed down from about every other challenge that I have ever been presented with this day would be different.  I was ready to take this creek head on.  Literally head on because I started at the mouth where it empties into a much larger body of water.

 I wasn't really sure what to expect as I started to make my way upriver but that's part of the excitement I feel when checking out a new place.

 The first roadblock I came to was these trees in the river.  They had been placed there on purpose perhaps as a means to discourage people from exploring this place.  I was undaunted.

My first major discovery was this dead creature.  I couldn't decide if it was a baby Bowfin or a juvenile American Eel.  All I really know is that it didn't taste too bad at all raw.  I am going to have to find some more of those little guys.

 I think I took this photo just after eating my little friend.  I hadn't put the camera back in the dry bag yet so I figured it would be a good time to take a photo.

 The creek was still very sandy at this point and I hadn't spotted any Brookies despite my polarized lenses.

 As the creek changed from sand to rock I started seeing Brook Trout darting every which way.  I decided that it was time to extract my vengeance on this species.  My weapon of choice would be a Gartside Sparrow.  It has quickly become on of my favorite search patterns for Brook Trout.

 This is the run where I caught my Brook Trout.  Notice how the bottom has turned from sand to rock.

 A little ways upstream I found evidence that this stream may contain much larger specimens.  This rotted out carcass didn't taste nearly as good as the morsel I had earlier but it still provided me with protein that my body so desperately needed.

 I think I will come back to this place.

 The stream seemed to go on forever.

 It was a very magical place.  Woodland fairies hid in the thick stream side vegetation and giggled joyfully as I stumbled by.

It was like a scene from a movie.  I forgot what movie it was a scene from but I'm sure it was a good one.

Eventually the mosquito's came out in full force.  Besides providing protection from dangerous ultra violet radiation the Buff also provides some relief from attacking hordes of insects.  I was sad that I had forgotten to bring insect repellent but I was so happy that I had my Buff.

 This is a picture of rocks.

 There were a few decent Brook Trout hanging out around this rock.  By this time the bugs were really starting to bother me.  I ran with reckless abandon back to my vehicle.  There's no place like home.