Early December

The weather has abruptly dropped off the shelf, as many local weather forecasters had been expecting. After a very warm November and unprecedented wildfires and hurricanes in the national forecast, some Minnesotans may have begun to expect a similar calamity in their weather system. Obviously not, as lakes and creeks have begun freezing and the daily temperatures resume their typical below freezing averages.

Three category four hurricanes in a row through Central America and wildfires throughout the western United States have made the anticipation of weather less a premonition of happiness than a prayer for strangers caught out.

Summer in Minnesota was enjoyable, I again volunteered for the Minnesota Pollution Control Agency as a Volunteer Stream Monitor along Minnehaha Creek, a 22 mile stream through Western Minneapolis flowing out of Lake Minnetonka. Since a 2014 flooding, changes in the stream and surrounding bodies of water have mandated changes in the way it is managed, and following along as a volunteer has been a gradual evolvement from passing spectator to willing participant.

My responsibilities as a Citizen Stream Monitor are fairly simplistic, and often the process of getting to my water collection site is more complicated than the process of measuring the turbidity or generating quantitative judgements of the recreational or aesthetic potential. I hope to resume my volunteering when the snow and ice melt next year, but for now it is back to planning for winter bicycle riding (studded tires and bring a bus pass just in case) and volunteering with the City of Lakes Loppet Foundation during their Loppet Festival in Minneapolis, which this year coincides with the Super Bowl.

Stay Warm!

Minnehaha Creek Northern Pike, Photo by Michael McKinney

Minnesota Nice Ride late season, photo by Michael McKinney

Bread, photo by Michael McKinney

Pottery through the Saint Paul Community Education Program, photo by Michael McKinney

Me with a Largemouth Bass, anon photo

Saint Paul Mural, photo by Michael McKinney

Mountain Biking on July 4th at Wirth Park, Minneapolis, photo by Michael McKinney

Minnehaha Creek Smallmouth Bass, photo by Michael McKinney

Minnehaha Creek Largemouth Bass, photo by Michael McKinney

Memorial Day Weekend 2017

It is a really nice day outside today. Plenty of sunlight, light breeze, some chance of rain later in the day. I have been in a Minneapolis library for the last three or four hours, working on getting a handful of crossword puzzles finished as near to acceptably perfect as my ability allows. I think more than enjoying the effort it takes to answer the question I look forward to the time when I can get myself back outside again to pursue the motivations that got me started on expressing myself a little more clearly, even if it meant risking the impunity of not knowing exactly how to.

I enjoyed riding in the 2017 Fulton Fondo again this year, and thanks to the non-profit organization Nice Ride Minnesota, I have enlisted in a Community Partners program that gives me access to their many kiosks around the Twin Cities. My own bicycles are waiting at home waiting to be used, and besides a few minor mechanical issues are ready for another day.

There were a nice few weeks back in April when I got out fishing along Minnehaha Creek, between Lake Nokomis and the Mississippi River, and had some luck catching large rough fish. So far this year that has been the most noteworthy thing...besides Donald Trump getting elected president, which I am doing my best to refrain from commenting on. Minneheha Creek has been crowded a lot lately and it is a constant reminder of how lucky I am to enjoy good health to be able to simply keep walking to another fishing spot if the one I had hoped to try this afternoon has become another person's favorite fishing hole.

Carp from Lake Hiawatha, April 2017.

Fulton Fondo II completed, May 2017

Carp from Lake Hiawatha, near Minnehaha Creek, Minneapolis, April 2017

Meantime, the fishing has been decent.

So what does a person do with a painful case of gout and two broken metatarsal bones? How to navigate through the days when walking is painful and running is out of the question? Never mind cycling, trail running and self-sustaining behaviors of good intent, what about getting dressed in the morning without grimacing in pain, slipping in the shower or simply keeping a job?

I got back to working, eventually, but I had to wear a removable plastic cast on my leg for a month, and then intermittently for another month. I am still not running, but have been cycling more, and riding Minnesota's NiceRide bicycles as much as wearing comfortable cork and leather sandals will allow, (they're good for the gout).

Did I mention the fishing? Since working at Target Field in the early part of this year, I had the initiative to steer away from fly fishing a little bit, in order to more simply cast on lakes the Rapalas, Mepps and poppers fly casting does not accommodate without snagging tree limbs or pedestrians on the back cast. So while it has not been particularly pleasurable or devoid of pain, I have managed to catch a nice walleye, a couple northerns, a bass or two and made it back into some Wisconsin trout streams for the more refined "single barbless hook" fly fishing I used to enjoy more readily.

If it all sounds too good to be true, consider how stadiums are cleaned.

As per Breads, Bikes and Books, I did finally get out and ride my sixth or seventh century on labor day. It started as a nice day to get out and ride, so a simple ride out to Stillwater seemed feasible. As I started I added a short loop onto the front of the ride, and after sitting with friends and relaxing in Stillwater, completing a century didn't seem impractical or even all that noteworthy.

It was however a beautiful day with a surprising lack of confrontational episodes.

Here is the link to the MapMyRide route I created.

Lake Nokomis Largemouth Bass, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Mississippi River Smallmouth Bass, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Minnesota NiceRide Selfie, Stone Arch Bridge, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Storm Clouds, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Saint Paul Sunset; photo by Michael McKinney

Removable Cast and NiceRide, Saint Paul; Photo by Michael McKinney

Goose Biot Stone Fly; Photo by Michael McKinney

Willow River Rainbow trout, Wisconsin; Photo by Michael McKinney

Stearns County, MN, Blue Moon; Photo by Michael McKinney

Minnehaha Creek walleye, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Pierce County, WI, Brown Trout; Photo by Michael McKinney

Minnehaha Falls, Minneapolis; Photo by Michael McKinney

Rivers

TROUT

Hangs, a fat gun-barrel,
deep under arched bridges
or slips like butter down
the throat of the river.
From the depths smooth-skinned as plums
his muzzle gets bull's eye;
picks off grass-seed and moths
that vanish, torpedoed.
Where water unravels
over gravel-beds he
is fired from the shallows
white belly reporting
flat; darts like a tracer-
bullet back between stones
and is never burnt out.
A volley of cold blood
ramrodding the current.
by Seamus Heaney

About a year ago, I got to writing down all of the rivers I had tried fly fishing on...between 1996 and 2009. Here is what I came up with.

Colorado
 
Frying Pan
Roaring Fork
Colorado
Crystal
La Poudre
Little Charleston
Elk
Boulder Creek
Blue
South Platte

Montana

Yellowstone
Firehole
Madison
Gibbon
Stillwater
Beaverhead
Bighorn
Soda Butte

Minnesota

Whitewater
Browns Creek
Root
Mill Stream
St. Croix
Mississippi
Valley Creek
Split rock
Beaver
Gooseberry
Cannon
Temperance
Baptism
Hay Creek

Michigan

Two Hearted
Fox
Pere Marquette
Little Mannistee

Wisconsin

Spring Valley
Namekagon
Rush
Kinnickinnic
Willow
Apple
Clam
Sand Creek
Cave Creek
Lost Creek
Bois Brule
Trimbelle

Bead Head Pheasant Tail Nymph, size 18.
Sulphur compara-duns, size 16.
Parachute Adams, size 18.
Light Cahill, size 20.
Partridge and Green, size 14 and up.

Stoneflies, caddisflies and mayflies. I get a little nostalgic when it's cold and there is no snow on the ground, which inevitably leads me to a fishing story.

Re-post

Another re-posted Blog entry, from December 26th, 2011

Holiday Tradition

Having had the opportunity to chew a few friends ears off on this issue, I thought I'd throw it against the blogger wall and see if it doesn't stick. I have this theory, about a few movies, and its not really a theory, as much as it is a thesis. It involves the idea of eternal return, divine intervention and painfully slow evolution. A could grab a few movies and their plots in order to increase the chance that one of them would allow for a more accurate point, like grabbing a handful of darts and throwing them all at once, hoping one would find the Bullseye, but I've gone over this thing in my head enough times now that it seems easy to choose one example and allow the verbal discourse to flow.
Take, for example, It's a Wonderful Life. My whole argument with the movie arises from George pausing momentarily on the railing of the bridge he decides to jump off of; in the movie, he actually jumps, lands in the water and must be saved by Clarence. The near death experience, and the appearance of his guardian angel create a fictional reality for George to view his life if he had not existed, and as the viewer, one could assume his life is safely secured in the hands of his guardian angel, so a state of eternal return is implied; if George were to be in an accident, or attempt to jump off of another bridge, it is assumed Clarence would be there to again protect and save him from hell, heaven or that place where Christians go to stand in line while Saint Peter decides if they've been good or bad...Limbo, Macarana, Salsa....Purgatory.
George's decision to jump and end his life, before meeting Clarence and before seeing his life as it would have been if he had never been born, is a desperate act and is one based on his life to that point. The role of Clarence is to show him the value he has as an individual to those around him and how his actions have constantly positively affected his acquaintances. Clarence, in reality, is nothing more than the good intentions we carry towards one another, the faith we have that tomorrow will be a better day than today, and is the will's conscious mind preventing the Christian from ascending the railing and flinging his or herself into the icy water.

What follows is a journal entry from four years ago. Enjoy.

8-8-06
Another early morning, I should start giving gold stars. I usually can’t get out of bed until at least ten o’ clock, so I’m happy to report I’m up and partially functional at six o’ clock. Paul would be proud...I got out fishing yesterday morning too, so this must be a trend. The Willow, true to form, didn’t have a lot of surface activity, sort of in direct opposition of the rush and the Kinnie, the Willow hardly ever seems to have fish rising...although I’ve not spent a lot of time on any of the three, (like, all day, camped out, shore lunch, guiding millionaire clients sort of time) to be certain that this is anything more than theory, it just seems to be a trend. The morning was amazing- three otters swam past me, I turned over some rocks and found dragonfly larva, stonefly larva, mayfly and of course caddis larva.
I fished a few runs and had taken apart my rod to start hiking back, but stopped at one last big pool before walking back to my car. The pool was probably a man made invention- A big structure for lurking browns and rainbows. The pool was created by a large tree, functioning as a dam; water spilled over the top and created a deep pool with oxygenated water flowing to the surface- another branch of the river joined the effluence of the pool about fifteen feet beyond it, at about the same area a gravel road, disrupted on each side of the river by, the river, went through the river and had raised the bottom enough to easily stand on and cast from without hardly getting my shins wet, (if I hadn’t had my waders on of course). I’m not sure how much gravel it would take every year to maintain that underwater dirt/gravel road, but it must take some maintenance. Anyway, I hooked two fifteen+ inch browns, big, plump hens that were probably holding eggs, (roe) and were hefty to the touch. The first was a snag hook, but the second was on the nose. I probably could have hooked into a couple more, seeing as to the pool was probably big enough to hold enough fish to supply the city of Hudson’s huck finn population with fresh trout for days, but I left shortly after hooking a smallmouth bass- too much diversity and craziness for me. The best part, the most unbelievable part of the morning, was the otter family. What I thought at first were beavers, or a solitary beaver, was a small group of otters, working their way downstream, tweeting at each other and sort of half swimming, half porpoising along- it’s the sort of thing I shouldn’t talk about out of fear of some crazy trapper folk going after them-
I knew there were/are big fish in the Willow river, I’ve just never hooked into them- I’m glad my presumptions and theories are sometimes correct. Hello.