Thoughts Along a Blue Line

We had a very heavy rain event at the end of last week. The idea of fishing had crossed my mind the only question was how the streams would be, were they able to handle the water in such a short while. With that in mind I chose to fish close to home and not have to travel further and find the streams blown out. This stream I had not fished since late September and at that time it was low. This day it was flowing at near capacity, looking lovely in a manner only a small stream can.

The forecast for that day was sunny, windy and cold with high temps in the 30's, that may have been true but it sure felt warmer especially in the sun. I am the guy who doesn't give on the dry fly because the time of year says I should. So the first fly to hit the water was a Bomber. That fly looked so wonderful bouncing along the current, a meal that couldn't be refused. I fished along the likely holding water hoping for a take, and that never came. Perhaps the fish were staying in much softer water and holding the bottom. Looking into the fly box I selected a Picket Pin, one of the few I tie that have weight. I cast it into the water and let it drift slowly towards the bank. I felt the fish strike, pulling back I felt the fish on. Bringing the fish to me I saw a beautifully colored brook trout. Keeping the fish in the water while I retrieved my camera. As I stepped off the bank I slipped and slid into the water. As I pulled myself up and gained composure I found everything to be in order. Sliding my hand under the brookie and attempting to lift him up he shook a few times and was off and running. I did not get wet for I was wearing waist high waders.

I sat up on the bank and poured myself a cup of hot tea, As I sat there I noticed how quiet the woods were, the only sound was the water and the breeze acting up through the laurel. As I sat there I had a thought of a magazine cover. On that cover was an angler holding up a big brown trout, perhaps 20+ inches. The angler had a smile so large you could almost say it was unnatural. Well I wonder what he would have said of me attempting to hold up a 6 inch brookie, and having a bigger smile that he had.

I continued to fish the Pin and in a soft spot near a sunken log I was able to subdue my first brookie.

A beautiful male wild brook trout.

The stream was full of washed in debris, everything from leaves to twigs to some full size branches. With all this happening I still managed to catch several more trout. The soft water near the bank across from the point of the rock my fly stopped swiftly. Suddenly the fish ran upstream and I could tell he was a battler. Several runs up and down, and side to side I finally achieved the upper hand. This time as I slid down the bank with control and lay my hand under his belly and lifted him up for a quick photo...snap and back to the leafy bottomed stream.

It wasn't until I got home and put this photo on the computer that I realized what a gorgeous fish he was. Looking at that tail showed me why he was so strong.

A fine few hours along a "blue line"