For those who love small streams, wild trout, and life...in their simplest form
Thursday, February 21, 2013
The woods. Featured are the ever present hemlock, the oak and maple, trees so strong they have probably stood for years. Within this forest lies a stream. The stream too has been here for years. It continues is never ending run to the river and eventually the sea. Its waters flow over wood and stone, at times so swift one would wonder how anything could survive. At times when the rains don't come its water are at a scant trickle again making one wonder.
As you approach you can see water, water so protected it would be difficult for a natural insect to fall in, let alone an angler trying to cast a fly.
Upon further exploration you come upon a part of the stream that widens a bit, and creates a deep slow run. Observing closely you see the rise of a brook trout. Looking about you cannot see a bug anywhere. A moment or two later another rise. Your equipped with a small caddis, perhaps it's enough to fool the brookie. Taking time to present the fly just right you send it on its way. The caddis floats close to where the fish is holding. The fly drifts by with no response. Working the fly back you see movement, thinking the water will erupt soon, but it doesn't. You attempt to cast again and as the fly hits the water the brookie rises and takes. A hookup, ever so short, but a success.
You have at this point failed to bring another fish to the fly. The stream is changing and you find a deep dark very fishy looking spot. A small plunge pool with water flowing up close to a large rock. The water is the color of dark tea. You have tied on a stimulator a fly that has a reputation for catching the eye of brook trout. You feed the fly through the plunge pool, the water takes it under. The fly pops up and starts its drift towards the rock. Suddenly like a grouse flushing, the brookie rises takes the fly and vanishes into the dark water. Lifting the small 2wt up you feel the brookie. He fights as best he can, eventually loosing the bout.
As you admire this wild gem in your hand, you say what can be more beautiful. Letting him slip back into his dark home you hope that these woods and the stream they protect shall endure.