Good morning folks, hope your day is all that you want it to be.
Yesterday was a absolute beautiful day for the middle of November, oh wait this is the middle of December, just about a week from Christmas. The weather was clear and sunny and the water was acceptable for the time of year. I started my trek up along the stream, glass in hand and bomber on line. I came upon a riffle-pool I like to fish and tossed the fly upon it. A short drift later and a brookie rose not once but three times as the fly moved in the current each time missing the hook. I picked up the fly and sent it back...nothing, back again...nothing. Move on Alan. The next run I fished I had another rise and another miss. This is not uncommon and I knew the success rate would pick up.
Along this beautiful stream I walked, casting and casting. It was three hours later and I realized I had not had another rise. Sitting on a rock I pondered the idea of changing flies, but that was not the answer this day. If they wanted to eat the dry fly would be the dinner.
As I closed in on the end of my outing I said You are now 0-2...why beat yourself up, you did nothing wrong, besides you had a great day just having the chance to fish.
As I neared a bridge that usually means the day is done, I said just fish a little further down then cut across the parking lot and go home. The pool was dark and the flow very slow. I dropped the bomber smack dab in the middle. The fly sat almost motionless for a second or two when it was smacked. A spirited fight and a wild brook trout was at hand. The score now 1 for 3...thank you fontinalis.