Two streams, a tale...

Sunset Sunday evening...so beautiful. With that I expected Monday to be a fairly nice day, and it was for some but not to me. Clouds thickened as I drove to the stream I chose to fish, and soon those clouds deposited some rain. The rain was very light and spotty as I drove and I was assured by the local forecast that it was not going to persist. With the clouds and rain there was also a damp chill in the air and a flannel shirt and rain jacket was needed to make me feel good.

The drive to the stream was not long, perhaps 50 miles and when I pulled over onto the dirt parking space I could hear the stream.

As I walked the path through the woods I could hear rushing water, it got louder and louder. There it was, a small stream full to the brim. The gentle flow that I was used to did not exist. I said to myself this was going to be a tough outing. I fished the stream giving it my best, but to say it was difficult would be an understatement. So I made the decision to try another stream which was about 10 miles away.

This was that stream...totally opposite from the stream I just left. This stream has several deeper pools and that's where I fished. The brookies were very receptive to my offerings and I really enjoyed the rest of the outing...what a difference 10 miles made.

The brookies were sized according to the stream. One fly was all that was needed...a Cinberg.

Pumpkin bread, grilled in the pan with butter.

Thanksgiving Week Begins

As we head into this Thanksgiving week I had the time this Sunday to visit a small stream. As I walked through the woods I saw this remnant of a rock wall. There are many of these scattered through out Connecticut, property lines from old Yankee farmers reverting back to the earth. As I snapped the photo I wondered how many Thanksgivings had they witnessed.

The stream was in good shape, flowing crisp and clear. The air temps were near 50 degrees, so very comfortable. I tossed out my offering and the stream did the rest.
It was a long time before my first bump, and slowpoke that I am missed setting the hook. But soon another hit and this time ole swifty had my first hookup. A lovely wild brown was at hand. The brown was admired and sent upon its way.
I continued to have a good day, then again I seem to always have a good day on the stream regardless of what the fish provide or don't.

A nice trout was hooked at the tail of this pool. I never was given the opportunity to see what it was for it soon found refuge under the log and broke off.

Two wild browns were taken from this run. They used every possible angle to gain their freedom. They both succeeded, only one had his picture taken.

This guy was taken in the little creek below. I spotted him near a bank and was fortunate to place the fly in his zone, and he took it. As I walked the little creek I saw several other trout.

As I pulled int my garage, I could pick up the smells of something good. Upon entering the kitchen I was greeted with this sight.....Pumpkin Bread...Thanksgiving week has begun.