It's tough to imagine that, in six short days, I'll be putting the 20 gauge over my shoulder and heading into the mountains to chase grouse. Last year, at this time, we were battling 105 degrees every day. Today it is in the mid-sixties, and it actually feels like hunting season. Last Saturday, I woke up to 45 degree rainy weather, and it's still time to get in some fishing.
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| August? You there, August? |
One of my favorite stretches of local river, unfortunately, warms up above 70 degrees in late summer, making it a poor decision for trout fishing (unless you like to eat everything you catch). Over the last week the water temps dropped back into the low sixties and made it an ideal choice for some weekend solitude (hopefully).
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| First acquaintance of the day... |
Being 45 and raining, I expected to have the canyon to myself. I was wrong, but most fishermen (maybe the 3 I saw) were chucking spinners or bait or something into the hole below the dam. I waded across the river, which is not possible earlier in the year, and walked the opposite bank. I tied on a couple of my favorite flies, and drifted them through the first hole. Immediately landed a fish and knew that it was going to be a good day.
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| As I waded across the river with Val |
The numbers weren't spectactular, but the quality of fish outweighed that in spades. I retired, after a couple hours, to a drinking establishment in Norris to dry off and get some lunch. The weekdays will now be dedicated to studying for an important exam I have coming up, and the weekends will start to lean toward archery and bird hunting seasons.
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Some people call these 'Loch Leven' browns, with the low quantity of spots, but I don't think they're a different sub-species than the guy below, if they're in the same water
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| A big boy to finish off the day. Excuse the unorganized line, it's a bad habit of mine to play the fish with my hand. |
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