AuSable

My Trip to the
Holy Waters


I recently returned from a trip to northern Michigan to fish the famous “Holy Waters” section of
the Au Sable River, and also the Boardman River, birthplace of the Adams fly. ( I will write about
the Boardman later). The trip was this year’s installment of what is becoming a yearly tradition
for a group of my pals and me. In past years we have fished the Adirondacks in New York, the
White River in Arkansas, various rivers and lakes in Maine, and, of course, in West Virginia. This
year I was put in charge of the arrangements, and I chose the area around Traverse City,
Michigan. I was sold on the idea by the city’s chamber of commerce web site, which said that
Traverse City is among the most desirable fly fishing destinations in the country. That’s all they
had to say.
      The Au Sable River of Michigan, not to be confused with the Ausable River of New York,
rises in the north central part of the lower peninsula of Michigan, along the north-south spine of
the state. It flows east and eventually empties in to Lake Huron at Oscoda. Grayling, Michigan
is a major town along the river, as well as Mio. The Au Sable is fed by several tributaries, but it is
really a spring-fed river, one of the largest in North America.
     The “Holy Waters” of the Au Sable is a catch-and-release, flies-only section between
Burton's Landing and Wakely Bridge, on the mainstream Au Sable, just upriver from its
confluence with the river's South Branch. It is a presumptuous name, “Holy Waters.” I don’t
know who named it that, but after I spent an afternoon and evening standing in it, marveling at
its extraordinary beauty, I can report that they were not exaggerating.
The river is not like the rugged mountain rivers of West Virginia. The Au Sable meanders gently
through a landscape of flat sandy bottoms and hills made up of mineral debris left behind by the
ice ages. The riverbed itself is mostly sand (“Au Sable” is French for “of sand”), and flows not
from riffle to pool, but at a more constant depth and rate of flow. Long plumes of aquatic plant
life waive in the current, downed timber provides cover for fish along the margins of the stream.
Overhanging trees provide day-long shade to deeper holes on the outsides of river bends.
Quaint summer cottages sit within a few feet of the river; their yards abutting the water with flat
timber rails held in place by poles pounded into the riverbed.
Everywhere along the river, there is cover or a deep hole or shade. It is a feast of “fishy”
looking spots. And, many times during a typical day there will be hatches of one kind of aquatic
insect or another. On our first afternoon on the river, July 9, 2007, for example, there were minor
hatches of mayflies that I, with my amateur eye, identified as blue winged olives. There were
several other kinds of mayflies that hatched, too, but the best I could do to match them was with
various sizes of Adams flies.
      Despite an afternoon of various hatches, trout rises were sparse until the evening hours,
when the river became alive with both mayflies and splashing fish. However I cannot report that
we had a trout bonanza that evening. None of us claim to be fly fishing experts, and that
evening we proved it. Maybe all those trout were rising to the tiny #22 tricos that were
swarming in little clouds all over the river, instead of the plump #12 Light Cahills that were
hatching the same time. I know which fly I would eat if I were a trout. And that’s the way I
fished. It finally paid off near dark, when brookies and browns finally started smacking my
Cahill.
“Dark” means about 10:45 p.m. on July 9th in northern Michigan, and that’s how late we fished.
Each of us ended up catching and releasing enough trout to make the rest of the day seem
worthwhile. Actually, the day was worthwhile even if we had not caught a fish. I'm certain that I
will cast my fly on the Au Sable many more times in the years to come, even if it's just in my
dreams.

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