To-Do List
A broken hose bib and someone's insistence that we pressure wash the deck today thwarted my "road trip" plans. It was probably the resentment that made me fall asleep on the couch (aka, "The Crippler") last night. And it was falling asleep on the couch that caused me to awaken with a horrible headache just before daylight. But it didn't take me long to convince myself that if I sneaked down to a local DHALO for a couple of hours, before the big box home improvement store opened, heck, I'd be home before anyone else even rolled out of bed.
I didn't even change clothes...just swallowed a few Tylenol, chugged a lukewarm coffee, and made my way to the stream. It didn't take me long to find fish. Catching them was a different story. Maybe I was too close. Maybe the slow, clear water gave the fish the opportunity to be hypercritical. Perhaps the imposing figure of the Blue Heron that stood in the creek as I arrived caused a pandemic of Salmonidis Lockjaw. Regardless, after several rejections of a fly box's worth of subsurface offerings, I decided I'd had enough and trekked downstream to find something "better." The low and clear conditions really made finding good water a challenge and "better" was a pipe dream at best. As I rounded the bend in the stream, I checked my watch. I'd given myself two hours...and I was down to my last 15 minutes...and I'd had enough.
I turned tail and headed back. I could see my truck in the distance and started walking a bit faster. That's when I saw the dark figure dart into the small pool across from me. Hmm...
Nothing else had worked, and I noticed that some bugs had started to come off the water (don't ask me what they were; I'm not there yet). And the creek chubs started splashing with regularity. So I pondered the mantra of the omnipotent Doubletaper..."Make 'Em Rise."
I tied on a #16 Stimi (no time to match hatches; I needed to haul troot and scoot). At the end of the first drift, my fly just sat there...boring, unenticing. So I gave the rod a slight twitch to skate the bug. KERPLUNK! A trout came from upstream and engulfed the fly. I held just enough tension to keep him from jettisoning the barbless fly, and brought him to hand for a quick pic and a prompt release.
I thought to myself, "Well, that was pretty cool" and rolled the Stimi back to the head of the pool. Two drifts later, I tagged another rainbow...
"I think I'm on to something here." Now the trout were actively circling back and forth in their tree-darkened pool. I had not yet experienced the "topwater only" phenomenon and I was digging it. I looked at my watch...five minutes left...what the heck...
The hourly chime on my watch told me that I needed to be done, "Yeah, yeah, I know.
JUST ONE MORE CAST."
The last one took a little longer. I guess the word was out in the stream..."Don't eat the brown/orange/yellow thing." Finally, the bad boy of the stream decided to defy his brethren...and paid for it.
Good enough for me. I quick-changed at the truck and set about the remainder of my "To-Do" list. "No matter what else happens today, I got the fishing DONE."