Morning

Morning, early morning is such a wonderful time of day. Such was the morning of Tuesday. I awoke at four and went for my first cup of Nantucket. As I sipped that black brew, I was thinking of where I was going to cast my first fly of the day. I knew what river I was going to fish , but not the section. After the coffee I proceeded to ready myself and put the gear in the car. I was on the road by 4:45. The sky was still dark as I drove to my destination which is about 45 minutes away. I stopped for one more coffee at Dunkin Donuts, drinking it in the car. I reached the river about 5:30.

I was greeted by this whitetail as I was going to park. He was in velvet and was content to feed on some lush vegetation as I watched him. He never bolted for cover as I watched him, and as I pulled away he continued to feed.

These next photos of the Farmington as the sun was breaking through were a scene to ease ones eyes and mind.

I chose this run to cast my first flies of the day. The fog hung over the 56 degree water as the sun tried to burn it off.

There were no visible rises and I was going to prospect with a Bomber dry. I worked the run and the pool below with no takers. I changed to a soft hackle, and achieved the same results. It was about an hour later that I started to see a few fish rising. They were taking a small fly or a very tiny spinner fall from the night before. I tied on a small cdc fly, which was the smallest fly I have and no takers.

Trying to compete with this little fly that they apparently love and I could not offer I put on a summer favorite, "a beetle". That was the fly.

I only fished a couple of hours, but it did a days worth of fine tuning my mind.

Fire on the water.

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A Rare Saturday

In this spot lies a trout that owes me some flies.

Saturday was one of those rare opportunities for me to fish all day. Jeanette was going to visit New York City for the day with my son. I declined not to go on the grounds that a million people on a hot day all together is not good, especially for me. So on this hot day I was to enjoy some of Connecticut's fine tail water fishing. Kirk was to meet me at a location on river. As I drove to that location I noticed his truck a few miles down stream from where me elected to meet. I stopped and walked along the river to try to locate him. After a brief search I was unable to see him. I jumped into my car and continued to our original destination, knowing he would eventually meet me.

I entered the river and began to fish. I had a Bomber on, because that was the fly tied on there from my last outing. I cast the fly slightly upstream and as the fly hit the water a trout rose. Of course I missed hooking him because I was not ready to have this happen so soon.....always be ready, I should take my own advice. A few minutes later Kirk showed up. He told me he had hooked up on a few browns down below. We continued to fish this section with good results, mostly for Kirk, but I had a time or two. The fish were rising and I still don't know to what exactly but a size 16 CDC caddis was working.

In a previous post I told of a very large brown that I tussled with in a deep pocket and lost him in some fast water. I have fished the same spot a few more times in hopes of tangling with him again. Well that never happened til Saturday. I was fishing there again, Kirk was just down stream. I cast the 16 caddis into the pocket, it sat there briefly then it was pulled down and under. As I lifted my rod up I felt the weight of a big fish. I yelled to Kirk, I got him on. The fish went to the bottom and never came up. Seconds later the line went slack and it came back to me minus the 16 cdc caddis. This fish lives in this pocket, I know that. He's consumed two of my flies. Perhaps the third time's the charm.

This is a rainbow that I took in some fast water. He's beautiful. What I think is so special are the parr markings on this fish, as well as the overall condition of the fins. Could it be.

We broke for lunch. Sausage and home fries. Cast iron cook so well.

We moved on to another section and fished. It was at this time that Kirk had to leave. I was to stay and fish until late evening.

Lots of beauty stream side.

Around 5:30 I stopped for dinner,a "Boston" strip steak, after which I would continue to seek this rivers trout.

I elected to fish this section. It is one of the most beautiful areas on this river.

The final fish of the day was this handsome brown. Is dorsal was like the northern lights as the sun was setting on this day.

You can read Kirk's take on the day at, "Trout Quest Redux" blog.

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An Evening of Wonderful Surprises

I teamed up with Kirk yesterday to fish the Farmington. We got to the river about 4 pm. Sunny and bright, water that was cold and so very clear. Kirk moved to the shady side of the river and I was going to work the faster riffles a bit up stream. We both started fishing dries, and soon realized it was going to be a tough outing. There were fish rising about but we could not determine what was on the menu. It was about an hour later, and many different flies that I got my first hookup. A small brown who was very energetic. The fly he chose to take was a partridge and orange soft hackle. A cast or two later and the soft hackle put another brown in the net.

We continued to fish this section for awhile. Kirk had fish rise to his flies but kept missing. I never had another hit after the last brown. This river has a way of humbling an angler for sure.

These two browns found the soft hackle to there liking. Perhaps they were the only two fish in the pool....NOT.

We continued fishing the upper part of the pool. Are plan was to take a few more casts and move to another part of the river. Kirk tossed a Bomber to the spot near the fallen tree. That's when a brown rose and took the fly.

Kirk and his first fish of the evening.

We hopped into the truck, grabbed a cereal bar and some water and moved to a place downstream. When we arrived Kirk moved upstream and I went south. In the run that's pictured there were several trout rising. Try to get them to eat a whole different game. I left that side and moved to the other side. It's a slow moving pool, almost like a pond. I could see fish rising right along the bank. There was high grass falling into the water and casting was going to be tough.

I tied on a Bomber and worked the fly as best I could, trying to place it close to the rising fish. Several casts later and the trout rose and missed. Keep on casting I said to myself. Finally it paid off and this wild char came to hand. My excitement level went through the top.

You might say to yourself what's the big deal about a 3 inch brookie. Well this just reaffirms my thoughts on natural reproduction.\' "wild brook trout" in the Farmy.

Well many more casts of the Bomber brought up several more fish but none to hand. Until.

On a drift of the Bomber into the center of the pool, like I mentioned earlier it's almost like a pond. The fly almost stopped drifting when this fellow hit. I'm really liking what's going on in this river.

On this evening the hatches the Farmy is noted for never came off, at least while we were there. At times this river can put the best of anglers in their place.

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What's Planned, and What Happens.

I have plans for these streamers, and I'm sure they will happen.

Today is one of those days when what you had planned is not going to happen. So you say take whats given and deal with it. Well that's sometimes easier said than done, and trying to cope with it just becomes more difficult especially as your years progress.

I'm an easy going sort of person and I can take things with that grain of salt, but between yesterday and today I need a whole salt mine.

Well enough of my rant, this is supposed to be a fly fishing blog. So I hope you'll enjoy the streamers, I know they are an image that eases my mind.