Milwaukee Journal Sentinel

Brule River veterans share wealth of experience

- Outdoors Paul A. Smith Milwaukee Journal Sentinel USA TODAY NETWORK – WIS.

BRULE – The Brule River flowed past dark and clear, fitting of a wild northern stream fed by groundwate­r and spiced by bogs.

At the moment it had the look of neat Scotch whiskey.

That was especially appropriat­e this day because my fishing partners were Ken Lundberg of Lake Nebagamon and Dave Zeug of Shell Lake.

Both men grew up within casting distance of the Brule and have a combined 130 years fishing it.

Time, it seems, has only made them better.

“Can’t get enough, can we Dave?” said a grinning Lundberg, 81, as he stood knee-deep in the river and flipped out another cast. “Once you get some things figured out, it’s no time to stop.”

Zeug, 71, smiled back but didn’t need to say a word.

The Brule is so deeply engrained in his life it includes marriage. The roots of his wife, Wanda (nee McNeal), trace to a farmstead along the river just south of Lake Superior. Gordon MacQuarrie, the late, great writer and outdoors editor at The Milwaukee Journal, made McNeal’s Landing famous in his stories.

Lundberg and Zeug both fished the Brule as youngsters with their fathers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Brule water flowed through both men’s veins.

“If it’s not the best place in the world, someone will have to prove it to me,” Zeug said. “I’m fortunate to be able to spend time here.”

In turn, they’ve taught their children, and in Lundberg’s case, grandchild­ren, to fish the Brule.

Over the years I’ve been privileged to fish the Brule often with Zeug, mostly on the opening weekend of the steelhead season in late March.

But the steelhead stay in the river into May most years. This year we made our annual outing on April 30, the day before the general Wisconsin fishing opener. Lundberg’s presence was icing on the cake.

We set out at dawn and hiked up the river valley to a series of runs and pools. A tom turkey gobbled in the distance and ruffed grouse drummed in the forest.

The air temperatur­e at 6 a.m. was 39 degrees; a veil of vapor came off the river in places.

The next bend in the trail could have brought a sighting of a gray wolf or a pine marten.

“Some kind of country, isn’t it?” Zeug said.

Other Wisconsin rivers provide steelhead fishing. None of them provide the scenic beauty and wild experience of the one formally called the Bois Brule River.

The Brule runs for 44 miles and every bit of it is in the Brule River State Forest. The forest has numerous parking lots and trails to access the river.

From its source, the river plunges 420 feet to Lake Superior, resulting in numerous rapids and ledges. The river also has a lamprey barrier to assist with control of the invasive species.

The river has long occupied a place of distinctio­n among American rivers.

It was used by early Native Americans and later by European explorers, traders, trappers and missionari­es as a travel route from the Lake Superior drainage to the Mississipp­i River. A relatively short portage is required to go from the headwaters of the Brule to the St. Croix River and eventually the Mississipp­i.

The river also served as a vehicle to float logs to Lake Superior. And for more than a century, the Brule has been recognized as a national recreation­al resource.

Five U.S. presidents – Ulysses Grant, Grover Cleveland, Calvin Coolidge, Herbert Hoover and Dwight Eisenhower – fished its waters. Coolidge spent the summer of 1928 at Cedar Island on the river and establishe­d a summer White House in Superior.

Lundberg grew up in Poplar and knew it as his home water. Zeug, a native of Superior, felt the same. The river didn’t yield its secrets easily, however.

“I tell you, I fished it for years before I caught my first steelhead,” Lundberg said. “Catching one made me want to catch the second one even more.”

By 6:30 we set up along a 90-degree bend in the river and spread out over a 75-yard stretch.

We fished flies under bobbers on spinning tackle or swung with fly rods. The key with both tackle options was to get the lure to tick along bottom or just above it at the same speed as the current.

Within 10 minutes Lundberg had a hit at the tail of a pool and was fast to a leaping, thrashing steelhead.

The fish was sleek and bright and about 25 inches long. It was quickly released.

Zeug caught one minutes later of about the same size.

Fifteen minutes later Lundberg and I had a double.

Any doubts I had about steelhead fishing on the last day of April were erased. The fish were in the river and willing to hit.

The steelhead were holding in from 3 to 8 feet of water and responding to feeding opportunit­ies that came drifting past.

A well-presented stonefly nymph or egg-sucking leech pattern was too much for them to resist.

Lundberg ties his own nymph flies out of marabou, chenille, hackle and a dash of flashabou.

As the sun rose and began to hit the water, the action seemed to pick up. Fish continued to come to net; all were released, even a 27-inch male caught by Zeug and a 26-inch hen caught by Lundberg.

Under Brule regulation­s, anglers must release any steelhead less than 26 inches long and may keep only one over 26 inches. Biologists say that allows adult steelhead to spawn at least once.

In fact, the fishery relies completely on natural reproducti­on.

“It doesn’t need stocking,” Lundberg said. “And money is better spent on habitat work.”

“The river is in pretty good shape,” said Paul Piszczek, DNR fisheries biologist for Lake Superior tributarie­s. “The steelhead are reproducin­g well and we’re seeing stable returns.”

Steelhead aren’t the only fish that migrate up the Brule from the big lake. Piszczek said anglers have the chance to catch seven different migratory species: steelhead, brown trout, coho salmon, chinook salmon, pink salmon, splake and coaster brook trout.

Anglers who are trying for a specific species typically aren’t dissatisfied if they catch one of the others, Piszczek said.

“I met one angler who had just caught a 37-inch chinook,” Piszczek said. “He said ‘I’m done, that just made my year.’”

Piszczek said the foundation to it all is the deep water aquifer that feeds the Brule with consistent­ly cold, clear groundwate­r.

The Brule has a video camera on fish passage at the lamprey barrier which allows the DNR to count fish runs.

Last fall 6,144 steelhead entered the river, third highest in the last decade and above the 30-year average of about 5,500.

More steelhead came in over the winter and into spring 2021 but the data are not yet available.

In 2019-20, the fall count was 6,497 and spring added 1,194 for a total wild steelhead run of 7,691, according to the DNR.

Most steelhead (84%) ranged from 20 to 25 inches long, and 7% were 12 to 17 inches long.

Piszczek said steelhead will remain in the Brule into May most years and then start to drift back into Lake Superior as the water temperatur­e warms past their comfort level.

September and October bring the start of the next fall runs of trout and salmon.

As they have for decades, Lundberg and Zeug will be there, too.

“It’s a lifelong process,” Lundberg said. “I know I’ve got more to learn, and the best way to do that is right here on our friend the Brule.”

Over three hours of fishing on our late April outing, Zeug landed three steelhead and I landed two. Lundberg, who stayed out another two hours, caughtand-released 11.

The Brule is sometimes called the “river of presidents.” But as I’ve learned time and again, even ordinary anglers are enriched by time spent on the wild, fabled river.

 ?? PAUL A. SMITH ?? Ken Lundberg leverages his fly rod as a steelhead thrashes on the surface of the Brule River in northern Wisconsin.
PAUL A. SMITH Ken Lundberg leverages his fly rod as a steelhead thrashes on the surface of the Brule River in northern Wisconsin.
 ?? PAUL A. SMITH ?? A male steelhead is released on the Brule River.
PAUL A. SMITH A male steelhead is released on the Brule River.
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