The "Nutmeg" State

There's a stream or two coming off those mountains. Connecticut is not a mountainous state, more like a hilly state. We do have a few biggies but they are along bordering states. The set of mountains in the first picture are places I've been poking around for the last three plus weeks. I have found a couple of streams that I've put a few steps into trying to figure out where the fish are. I have found that one of the streams has a healthy population of brook trout, and the other a somewhat good population of brook trout. Both of these streams start high up and flow to a larger source. Along the way they pickup volume from underground sources and become a nice flowing stream. These waters have been very cool with water temps in the high fifties, and that's great for the time of year. Still I'm perplexed....the reason will be forthcoming in a couple of weeks.

The average flow of a stream in the last couple of weeks. Lots of hiding places in that pool.

A brookie taken from a pool just downstream from the photo shown. Yes that's a "bomber" in his jaw.

I can't identify them, but they sure are pretty.

There are a couple of pools like this on this stream. The currents as well as the boulders seem to corral the sand as it's washed downstream. Looking into it one would not think brook trout would consider it to be ideal. I was able to bring two of them to hand and one spit the fly back at me. I'll let you figure out where the fish were taken.

Brook trout like this are what hold in these sandy pools.

Stream number two...later folks.

"There's A Stream On That Mountain"

"There's a stream on that mountain" that's what I said to Jeanette as we were walking one day last week. Yesterday I found that stream as well as another little blue line that runs very close to it. The morning broke clear on a day that was to turn hot and a bit on the humid side. The last few days had been very comfortable and I was anxious to test this new stream. The moon was full and just loosing that brilliant shine as I was heading up the mountain. As I crossed a very weathered old iron bridge that crossed a stream I was greeted buy a very large group of turkey's, they had just flown down from their roost and seemed to be getting it all together. There were lot's of little ones and a few mother hens trying to get some order in place. The wild world in the morning is so wonderful.

Well I finally found a little cut-off along the road where I could park. The stream was close and I could hear the water flowing. I geared up and started my way for the sound and eventually the stream. The first place I saw was a nice run with a deep pool. The stream was in super shape. The first cast produced a nice swirl behind the fly just at the surface.

The second cast produced this fine male brook trout. His colors were that of an autumn fish, and he had what was the start of that hook jaw.

When I brought that first fish to hand the water felt pretty cold. I reached in my pack and retrieved my thermometer. Placing it in the water and checking I was pleased to see a 57 degree temp.

I continued to fish up and down the stream. Beautiful runs and pools along the way. Some of them quite easy to fish and some downright nasty. I took my share of strikes and many a miss.

But I am happy to say I connected several times and was rewarded with spunky wild trout.

This was the pool of the day. It is where I had my lunch and just listened to the sounds of this wild spot. The water was insanely clear and I could not see a fish, but I just knew there had to be one there. A classic New England stream and a classic New England fly was in order. I tied on a "Bomber" and cast it near the boulder. A few inches of drift and a violent rise. The fish was on and he did not want to surrender. Several leaps and a few strong runs and he was about to come to hand.

I placed my hand under his belly and gently lifted him up. If this was to be the only fish I took today I would be well satisfied. The beauty of a wild brook trout, taken in a cold New England stream on a classic fly is beyond words.

As I drove up the dirt road to find a place to turn around I came upon this mountain meadow. Where the tree line begins I know the stream is back there, perhaps there is another brook trout waiting.