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LHarris last won the day on September 17 2016

LHarris had the most liked content!

About LHarris

  • Rank
    Sr Family
  • Birthday 06/01/1957

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  • Name:
    Len Harris
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  1. Spinners for stream trout

    use the right tool for the job.
  2. Spinners for stream trout

    small lures with tiny trebles bounce off of iron jawed monsters. leave the size 4s and 2s at home.
  3. Spinners for stream trout

    deep water throw a second smallest zip lure. a countdown in natural colors works too. husky jerks can work well too no swivel needed with power pro. if use mono check for line cuts when panthers flip over line. panthers out fish all other spinners. 55 years using them. If you are offended by the blood in the photo you picked the wrong sport. Even tiny flies can cause trout to bleed. This trout was harvested by person who caught it.
  4. Spinners for stream trout

    buy a medium action 6 foot spinning rod...put 8 pound power pro on it. Buy a truck load of panther martins in deluxe gold in size 9 and size 9 panthers yellow body red spots and silver blade. Purchase a big net and share photos. Fish 400 yards below manicured areas in the down trees and cut corners. Expect to lose lots of spinners. don't shoot photos with identifiable land marks in photos and turn off the GPS function on your cellphone or camera.
  5. The Fog

    I have always been fascinated by fog. So much so I even took the time to look up the meteorological definition. So here it is. Fog consists of visible cloud water droplets or ice crystals suspended in the air at or near the earth's surface. Fog can be considered a type of low-lying cloud and is heavily influenced by nearby bodies of water, hills,valleys, (trout) and wind conditions. My father laid the groundwork for my obsession with the mystical phenomenon. He equated fog to excellent fishing. We hurried many days to trout streams before the fog could burn off. Some of my best trout success was when you could barely see 10 yards in front of you. Later in life I learned trout have no eye lids and shun sunlight. The trout felt safe to feed in low light conditions. My life changed in the fall of 1967. My father left this earth. He went to fish in the clouds. Fog is described as low lying clouds. When you speak of heaven you always point upward. You always hear that heaven will be your happy place. My dad's favorite place was on a trout stream during the foggiest conditions possible with a fishing rod in his hand. There are days now that I fish during foggy mornings. I am always sad when the fog burns off. It is like my dad leaving. I know he will return again soon so I have something to look forward to. When a father leaves a child at such an early age the kid grasps at anything to remember their father. Childhood turns into adulthood. Your fondest memories are not forgotten. Many times they are reinforced through the years. I for one can feel my dad on stream during the early mornings when the fog is hanging low. When the heavens are at ground level. Call me an old daft fool if you want but I still feel his presence every time I fish on a foggy morning.
  6. Eternity

    I have fished this stretch for over 20 years and had never seen this magnificent rock draw. Other years the leaves obscured my field of vision. It appeared to be one solid rock ledge that was impregnable. Recently I fished the stretch in the dead of winter and this virtual "road not taken" was almost magically there before me. There it was on the other side of the waterway. I sat down on the stream bank for a good long while and admired the steps that father time had cut in the rock ledge with the help of mother nature. I was fairly certain that this path to the future and the past had never been traveled before by any human due it being so far back in the middle of nowhere. It was a true metaphor of life there before me. I had walked by this exact spot 100 times in the last 20 years and had not seen this wonder that time had created. The snow was drifted there and the path still looked precarious. The stream was deep and I would have had to walk back down stream quite a ways to get to the other side. The rock ledge down stream was closer to the water and made the trek across a swim not a wade. This made the crossing impossible that cold dark winter day. I sat there and thought about life and its detours and wrong turns. I took this picture and went on my way fishing. As I fished upstream I was a bit melancholy that I was unable to at least walk to the head of the draw and look over the summit into eternity. I thought about revisiting this place on a warmer day and take my chances and see what was on the other side. I looked back down stream to the place in the snow that I had sat on the bank for such a long time. Today was a fine day to keep fishing. I decided to not look back and continue forward not back. My sadness was replaced with a smile and on I trekked.
  7. I am the diamond glints in snow, I am the fog lifting in the early morn, I am the kaleidoscope of fall's first breath, I am the purr of my old gray cat, I am a warm cleansing spring rain, I am the sun setting on a fine day, I am the memories of who came before, I will never leave.
  8. Driftless

    Many folks don't know what it means. It means lack of debris left after a glacier flattens your landscape.
  9. Bees

    Bees Was looking at my morning glories yesterday. The bees were having a grand time collecting pollen. These bees are the good kind. The necessary kind that fertilize our apple blossoms and morning glories. These are the ones that have been put on the endangered list due to over use of pesticides. These are the "GOOD" bees. As a child I had way too much time on my hands. I was the curious type and my curiosity got me in trouble a couple times during my youth. I hated bees as a kid. If I saw a nest under the eaves I would be getting the hose out to deal with the hornets. I guess the word got out to the bee community and I was a marked man after that. It was late May and a group of friends and I went spelunking at the Star Valley Cave. I lead the group so I was the first to drop down in the hole in the ground entry point. Before I could get all the way down in the hole I was swarmed by yellow jackets. They had taken up residence in the entry point. 24 stings later I managed to outrun the rest of the swarm. I swelled up awfully. Both of eyes were nearly swollen shut. A week later i went to the gas station and filled up a gas can and took care of those bees. That fall I noticed there was a huge bee hive on the side roof of the Catholic church. I watched a couple day while going to catechism and there were no bees flying in or out. I thought the bees had left and the big football shaped hive was neat and would be a good science show and tell item. I carefully crawled up on the roof and poked at the nest to see if anything flew out. Nobody was home I thought. I carefully took down the nest to make sure it stayed in one piece. I took it home. Nobody was home so I left it on the front porch. It was a cool morning and I went outside to play. The day warmed up and so did the residents of the bee hive. I went in the front porch and "they" were there waiting. Only 14 stings this time. It was quite a feat to get that hive off the porch. Add 4 more stings to that total. There were a few years that I had no run ins with bees. I hit adulthood and got a degree in HVAC. I worked for my uncle as an apprentice plumber. I was a skinny young adult and usually got the dirty jobs and the crawl into the tight places tasks. There was a vent pipe to be cut out in an attic and I was voluntold I was the one to crawl in the tight dark attic. I crawled way back in the corner of the old farm house crawl space and was greeted by a swarm of bees. My crawl space was tiny and backing out was a serious pain....literally....a dozen stings to the face and another 10 in other places later i was out of the attic of pain. Raid solved that problem. I guess karma was paying me back for all of those bees that never bothered me and I hosed them. Years went by and I had developed a respect/fear of bees and had no incidents with my nemesis the bee. I thought I had put that part of my life behind me. I was a warm sunny day in August and I was casting at the local dam for pike when it happened. I was drinking pop and set my can down to cast. I reeled in my lure. In the short time I set it down a yellow jacket decided it wanted a drink too. I took a drink and felt something moving in my mouth and spit it out. As it flew out of my mouth it decided to sting my tongue. My tongue started to swell up immediately. I quickly rounded up my fishing gear and took off at Mach 12 to the Grove Medical Clinic. I was driving as fast as my Toyota pick-up could go. My tongue was continuing to grow during the drive. I got in the clinic and tried to speak but my tongue had swollen up so badly I could not speak. I pointed at my tongue. I was frantic and grabbed a pen and paper and wrote down Bee Sting and pointed at my tongue. Seven shots later in my tongue and the swelling started to go down. The doctor made me sit in his waiting room for 2 hours to make sure I had no more swelling in my tongue or throat. He told me if I had swallowed the bee I might have died due to the swelling if it would have stung me on the way down. The bee sting effected me for weeks afterward. My tongue swelled up some much that my tongue had actually split in three places. It took a long time for the tongue to heal. I HATE BEES.
  10. Wisconsin Driftless Report 2017

    14 to hand this morning in an hour
  11. This One Time

    Looked at my log books and could not nail down the exact day or year. There was only one photo referenced and I gave it away. Here is the story about the one Polaroid photo given away. One of my fishing friends did an internship with the DNR one summer to help with shocking surveys in the driftless. This was about 25 years ago if I remember correctly. My bud contacted me after a shocking survey. I think he contacted me just to torture me. The stretch they shocked was way off the road and owned by a curmudgeon that was one of those angry landowners that didn't even allow his relatives on his land to fish. It had lots of beaver dams and was hard to shock. The giant trout the team shocked was more than my bud could bear to keep secret. He had to tell me. The landowner was along when they shocked. My buddy was sure the owner was going to go after the trout the next day even. I drove by the area the next morning at first light and I saw the landowner walking out into his pasture with a five gallon bucket. I figured the monster female brown would be on the guy's grill later that day. I later learned that my bud had told other people about the huge trout and many went to ask the landowner if they could fish. The owner knew the word had gotten out about the giant female brown on his 650 acre stretch. He was not letting anyone on there and even barked at a couple people that asked and said: "My land my fish!" It was a running joke in my hometown about the crazy landowner and his pursuit of the mythical brown. The season passed and the word on stream was the guy could not catch the trout. The word was also that the landowner became even more aggressive towards anglers that asked permission to pursue it. The new season was almost upon me and I decided I was going to ask the landowner if I could fish on his property. The farmer met me part way in his driveway. He was shouting before I even got out of my vehicle. All I heard was "NO" you can't fish on my property and get off my land and never come back. I heard him shout as I left: "I caught the darn thing last year anyway!" Opening day came and I drove by his stretch out of curiosity. There he was in the distance walking through his field with that five gallon bucket again. This meant he had not caught the big fish the year prior like he said. I drove by again later. It was late May and there was a beaten down path in the weeds where the owner crawled over his fence to go out after the giant brown. I smirked as I drove by and decided to let the maniac catch his "Moby Dick." It was the fourth of July celebration in my hometown and I was at the local watering hole talking with friends. The next thing I knew I was being tapped on my shoulder and there was the aggressive landowner standing there and he was all in a huff. He had heard me talking about the big trout and the persistent landowner that kept striking out. The landowner was enraged that I had been dissing him at the bar and he asked if I had sent people to fish his land because he had chased away numerous anglers trying to steal his big trout. I had not fished the stretch after the trout and was taking his NO I couldn't fish there at face value but got pissed at the guy for being aggressive towards me in front of my friends and the entire community. I was in law enforcement at the time and knew the wading rules very well. I had never had to wade before because I could typically soften up landowners and get on fish. I was about to make an exception to my standard policy to not wade due to the ranting maniac landowner. I took three days off to chase this trout. I figured I would go in downstream of his land and wade up to where I thought it was located. Little did I know the landowner had talked to the neighboring landowners into NOT allowing anglers on their property either. It was going to be a crazy long wade to get to the area. I had taken three days off and I decided I was going to do it. I hit the stream at one hour before light and waded past many good looking holes to get on the maniac's land to get a chance at the big brown. It was obvious when I came to his line fence. The ten strand barb wire fence went from stream level to a good eight feet up with a no trespassing sign centered on the top strand. It looked like a prison camp fence. I heard a tractor in the distance. The sound got louder. I thought I had been stealthy and there was no way he could see me. The farmer was doing some weird driving. I saw him drive across the stream in four places and purposely rev up his tractor as he went across to go across fast each time. He did this a dozen times at least. He was muddying the stream and trying to disrupt any potential anglers from fishing. This guy had become unhinged. He didn't see me and he was doing this out of pure madness. I waited for him to leave and fished through. Nothing was going to bite after all this nonsense and I fished through quickly. I did notice a beaten down area alongside the stream with a five gallon pale there. This was his battle station for the trout. His driving across the water like a crazy man was just above and below the area and told me where to look. He couldn't catch the trout so no one was going to. He made an error. He had shown me where the big fish lived. I gave the stream a rest the next day and went after the big brown the third day. I started two hours before first light and got to his line fence before first light. I was crouching down as I came close to the hole to keep my profile low. I was about to cast and out of the bushes the maniac came with a giant rock in his hand. He tossed it in the middle of the hole. He had waited for me to get up on the hole before he threw the boulder. He was ranting and saying he had seen my vehicle way down stream two days ago and he was ready for me. He had been there the day prior waiting for me too. He knew I was in law enforcement and left quickly and did not get in my face. He said in parting he was going to keep a close eye on "HIS" trout and no one was going to catch it. He preferred it die of old age before he let anyone catch it. I went to my mother's home after and told her about the kook. She knew him only a little. She told me she knew him from church every Saturday night. He came every Saturday for decades she said. I smiled and made my battle plan. I parked my vehicle at the end point and had my wife drop me off downstream. I waded upstream like my tail was on fire. After all this nonsense I caught the big trout on the third cast. I took one Polaroid photo of it. I quickly waded to my vehicle and drove past the land owner's farm. I slowed down before I got there. He was still at church. I wrote "Thank You" on the bottom of the Polaroid photo and put it in his mailbox and put the flag up and drove away.
  12. Wisconsin Driftless Report 2017

    tip to a couple good friends Len, Thank you for the stream recommendation, Len! I love the layout of this stream. Fished it from 3pm until 6:30pm. My brother threw panther 9s and I threw 6s. We scored a brookie/brown/bow trifecta.