There it was again, that big silver flash from the depths and yet another soul crushing refusal.
Shorty after I find myself sitting on a moss cover bolder, waiting patiently for the hackles on my bomber to dry out after being drowned by yet another eager small trout and wondering…..
I know they are there, those small stream lunkers, they just have to be. I've seen the flashes, even occasionally hooked a few over the years but never with any regularity. Fishing the same old dry/dropper setup has always worked for me, in fact its been down right blissful to say the least. Those handfuls of 4-6 inch wild jewels never get old. As you can imagine I was loathe to change.
But change I must, those big flashes of greatness just beneath the waters surface can torment your dreams.
So this early summer I've been messing with a few streamer patterns and finally settled on the one that seemed to produce the best results. The peacock herl wooly bugger fished upstream with a short rod, no exceptions. Why upstream, two reasons….never let the bigger smarter fish in the prime lies even catch a glimpse of you or the game is over before it starts and the other more simple….I aint never seen a cased caddis nymph drift upstream. And a short rod so I can keep the tip very low, almost in the water with minimal slack at all times when fishing in tight spaces.
Time to leave the dries at home and hit the water.
Its 5 am, the light is low, and the shadows are high.
Stream side temp is prime.
The early morning smell of moss covered stones invades the nostrils and the rumble of mountain water fills my ears with delight. Senses overloaded….
I can just just feel it, its going to be a glorious day!
Time to rig up and get started.
I wanted to cover a lot of water in small amount of time before the sun got too bright so I skipped along focusing on all the prime lies that I thought would holder bigger fish. That meant focussing on the big plunges and the runs right after and any other scary looking fly eating place to send the bugger into action.
The results were good, many chunky healthy fish.
Seems like every time I sat down for minute I'd find an interesting fungus nearby.
Pulled this fellow from a bowl nestled in the middle of a set of falls, look at that golf ball sized tummy!
This place has never been stocked with rainbows, all wild and numerous. They easily outnumber the brookies 5 to 1. I love seeing those white tips that develop on the fins of wild bows over time.
So much good looking water.
Most pools gave up to a half dozen fish. Interestingly enough, often times the biggest fish would come near last.
This pool was downright nasty to fish. With just a few feet of tippet hanging out from the tip top I lowered the payload in between the two logs while hiding behind a shrub. Immediately I was met by a savage tug and now the next challenge off trying to land the fish was just getting underway. Into the stream I jumped below the run, almost up to my upper thighs and lifted the rod tip up and over with a savage fish shaking the whole way down below into the calmer water. Just a second to unhook, snap a picture and off he went back home to the log jam.
By now it was almost 10 am, I'd caught enough, time to pack it in and head home. I promised my seven year old daughter I take her to the lake today, and I don't like being one to disappoint.
Get out there, get far far away from the nearest road, find those special places yet to be found.