Editor’s note—As we promised, here is an article about Michigan’s Boardman River. The Boardman, along with the Au Sable and the Manistee, are mainstays of Northern Michigan’s many fabled trout streams. An article about the Au Sable appears elsewhere on West Virginia Trout Fishing.
We turned off the main road onto one of the wide, dusty gravel roads that leads through deep forests of pine and northern hardwoods to the banks of the Boardman River. The road, in serious need of grading, caused the vehicle and our fly rods vibrate, and our teeth to chatter. It was an uncomfortable ten minute drive that felt more like an hour. We made it to the river’s edge, however, and soon the three of us, my pals Freddy, Lonnie, and I, were working out of the tailgate of my dust caked Land Rover, pulling on our waders and tying on our flies. The Boardman is one of Michigan’s fabled wild brown trout rivers. Situated in the northwest corner of Michigan’s lower peninsula, it flows west from the center of the state before turning north just in time to empty into the south end of Grand Traverse Bay. The river starts as several small tributaries that form two main branches, which come together as one stream about 25 miles upstream from the mouth. The river's watershed lies largely within the Pere Marquette State Forest. The Boardman is mostly a spring-fed river, flowing with plenty of cold pure water. It is considered a blue ribbon trout stream, and maintains that quality of trout habitat from headwaters to mouth, even through and below the Brown Bridge Pond impoundment, which is about fifteen miles upstream of the mouth.
Our first evening on the Boardman was spent on the North Branch, which, like the South Branch, (the other main branch) is tiny, and largely overhung with bushes, tree limbs, and all manner of other vegetation. Undaunted by the close quarters, I entered the river at a likely looking spot, stripped a little line off my reel, and sent my #14 Adams gently out to land in an eddy behind a fallen tree. I started with an Adams, of course, because the Boardman is where the Adams originated. I was fishing the river of the Adams, and so I thought it fitting that I should fish an Adams.
I worked slowly and methodically upstream, wading the sandy bottom and casting as best I could around a maze of trees, leaves, grasses, and dead timber. Despite being snagged many, many times, I managed to catch enough brookies to keep me focused, and to make me feel worthy of this magical place.
“Magical” is one way to say it, I suppose. Another might be “powerful”. I’m certain that my awareness of the Boardman’s place in the history of American fly fishing influenced my feelings to a degree, but I’m also certain that the river just oozed history and prestige. I felt like I was standing in the middle of a Winslow Homer landscape painting. I was living the perfect fly fishing moment.
That first evening, we fished until we couldn’t see anymore, which was about 10:45 p.m. We were told that if we waited until dark, we might encounter a hatch of the giant mayfly called hexegenia.
We prepared ourselves as we had been instructed by locals: tie on your fly, find a place to cast that’s free of potential snags, and then wait until it’s pitch black, the hexes start hatching and the big browns start rising. And we each did just that, but the hex hatch did not materialize.
Two evenings later, we returned to the Boardman, this time to the mainstream, just below the confluence of the forks. The now-larger river retains its grandeur and it’s stately beauty. It’s just bigger and far easier to fish. So, our experience on the second evening was even more rewarding than the first.
The place we fished is bordered by a campground and an area that is maintained as a park. Trails follow the river and make access to all points easy. We each enjoyed an evening of brookies, and as nightfall approached, hatches of different sized mayflies began. Like the previous evening, we found our spots, tied on our giant hex bugs, and waited for the big browns. This time, the hatch did happen. I was stationed in a turbulent run below a stone bridge. As darkness fell, big splashes were happening all over the stream. I nervously laid my big fly out into the current, and watched it bob downstream in the dim moonlight.
Suddenly: Blam! I had hooked a large brown trout. The trout dug for the bottom, angled for the far shore, swung downstream; every move that you would expect a big brown to make. I took longer to land the fish than I would have liked, given the strong current and the almost complete darkness. But after a few moments, I slid my hand under the fish’s belly and removed the giant hook from its lower lip. The trout was probably 15” long, and slid effortlessly out of my wet hand and back into the current.
The Boardman is just one of many great trout rivers in northern Michigan. The hub of civilization in that part of the state is Traverse City. It is situated at the south end of Grand Traverse Bay, an aqua green inlet of Lake Michigan. There are many hotels and motels in Traverse City. It is a northern vacation destination, much like Gatlinburg or Branson in the south. If you are looking for a place to take the family and also sneak in some fishing, this is the place. The entire region is full of other fishing opportunities as well, including Lake Michigan and several inland lakes that offer fishing for bass, muskie, trout, and salmon. It is little wonder that when experts talk about the best trout fishing destinations in North America, the Traverse City area is always mentioned.
