Only two attendees, but they were good natured and trout fishing
fiends. Kipper was a very well behaved pup. I had a pleasant time
and got nice Clave gifts from Ken and Bob (flies, a Fall Ball hat,
Jack Daniels, etc.). Saw a hummingbird for the first time in years.

It was a nice site, if small, but I could hardly breathe the whole
time I was there. Temps, humidity, and rotten lungs combined to
exhaust me if I did much past sitting quietly. Much better as soon as
I got up the hill and better now at home. Maybe an allergy, too?
There was the wonderful big old oak and a good maple right on the site
and assorted other trees all around. Raspberries are fruiting around
the site.

We were practically on top of the stream, variously known as
Forestville Creek and something something of the Root and maybe
another name somewhere along the line, too. Most easily referred to
as 'the Creek." I found a nice hole and sat on a rock and did side
flip casting while the guys hiked and drove and hiked and waded and
caught fish. I, much to my thrill, got two good bites. Less to my
pleasure I then started getting dissed by a little fish on the other
side of the stream (Ken got him later on and he dissed me no more.
Even catch and release can shut some of them up.) and a large fish
that I couldn't see (deep and slightly cloudy water there), but would
come up and swirl at me. Bob had given me an emerger which got me the
bites. Nice strikes, too. I either hit too late or too soon and that
was that.

The pic on the binaries group was taken during, surprize, a silly
moment. We never got around to taking one with Ken in it.

Ken lost one of Kipper's leashes. Bob lost and found his glasses and
lost his clippers. He's going to have his picture in the Root River
newspaper, btw. Some woman from a meeting of the Bluff Council
snapped him as he was headed upstream in rising mist and they're going
to publish it. Ken may be mentioned in it, too, as when I told the
camp owner that he caught the big fish of the Clave (a 17 inch Brown)
a bit up the stream she got all excited.

Maple Springs Campground, just east and across the road from
Forestville State Park. Very friendly owners. Very. They gave me my
last day free for some odd reason. I had 5 days paid for and stopped
in at the office to pay for the 6th day that I'd stayed. She was
happy that I'd stopped and thanked me for my honesty and told me to
forget it. Well, okay. They stopped by and checked on me at least
once a day, seeming very concerned about whether or not I was having
fun. Many campground raccoons, but not aggressive.

Nobody got any Brookies, which surprized me, as the one fish I'd
caught down in that area was a Brookie. I showed Bob the Park map and
the stream I was sure would have Brookies and he said, IIRC, that he
didn't get anything from it, not even Browns.

There was a Mayfly hatch the day after they left. Might have had
something to do with the approximately two inches of rain overnight?
Not many, but a couple landed on me after dark and I got a good look
at the little buggers. There were also more of the little green guys
who keep their transparent wings closed along their bodies when just
sitting on your arm. Too many kids were all over the stream,
particularly riding the current right down into my deep hole, for me
to get up and fish, even if the humidity hadn't actually increased.
Poor Bob. He just doesn't get humidity like that where he fishes.

Bob noticed a spot at a bridge up the road I'd been by once a couple
of years ago, before I started to take up fishing again, and I went
and checked it out on the way home. Picture pretty bluff country.
Stiles for fishermen. Next time down there, I'll fish it.

Lordy, but it was hot the whole time. And I believe I mentioned the
humidity?

Thanks for attending, guys and Kipper. Y'all were good company.

Cyli
http://www.visi.com/~cyli