Yesterday before the rains came I took a walk along a small stream I claim to be my "home water". With the lack of rain the brook was low in places and full in the deeper pools and fast moving brook trout were observed. These trout were a mix of young of the year and adults, and seeing this mix did my heart good. I knew that brook trout on high alert would not be easy to get them to take a fly, and I was right. They did however grace me with one or two at the end of my line.
I fished for a few hours, and the rain started to fall lightly. The wind was present and the leaves fell ruining a perfect fly drift most times. I did not care it just felt good knowing that all was well with the brook trout of my home waters.
Little places such as those seen here, where the stream bends and slips to a tree hiding an undercut is where you could expect a strike.
And nine out of ten times it came. Here is one of those strikes that turned into a hookup and to hand a beautiful wild char.
By the time I got to this run the rain had picked up some and I was getting wet. So I decided I was going to cast a few more times an cover the run and head back to the car.
On one of those last casts I met this jewel. A wild spirit of the stream.