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Went to the 'Fly River today.The same little river that Joel, Jeff,
Wolfgang and I fished during last years Tavelin' Clave. Met my dad at 10:30. We fished together for 2 hours with only two trout to show for it, one on a Pink Squirrel (the supposed new "hot" fly here in Wisconsin) and a bigger one on a Pheasant Tail Soft Hackle. My dad, not being an enthusiastic fisher at the best of times, headed home then with a promise to return in a few weeks when the water warms and the hatches pick up. Being the stubborn Norske that I am and seeing the increasing amount of blue sky headed my way (with its hopefully attendent warmer air and water temps), I decided to stick around for awhile. I drove up to the next bridge and set up a double rig, a BH Pheasant Tail soft hackle as the point and a PS (Pink Squirrel) as a dropper. So far there had been only a few grey midges flittering about, but slowly a few BWOs made there presence known. No rises yet, but a few yards down from the bridge a small brookie hammered the PT. I fished down the long riffle away from the bridge, taking a small native every 5 minutes or so, all on the Pheasant Tail. At the end of the riffle I decided to give the Pink Squirrel a true test so I replaced the PT with another PS and fished the next couple hundred yards totally "pink". Alas I also ended up totally skunked. So finally I gave the PS a rest and went to a single Bead Head PT soft hackle. Fished for another hour or so, catching the occasional small brook trout. At the foot of a small rapid I noticed a reddish mayfly flutter up from the water. That one was followed by another. In a couple of minutes a modest hatch of Hendrickson duns was taking place. But no fish came up with them. As the trout continued to take the Pheasant Tail, thats what I continued to use. The hatch petered out in a few minutes. The water remained devoid of risers. At last a few fish started to feed on top. The Hendricksons were long gone. But still I tied on a Hendrickson emerger pattern I had worked up the previous night and cast to one of the feeding fish. I got a splash refusal for my trouble but nothing more. The next couple of rising fish also refused the emerger. Having tapered my leader to 5x for the emerger I decided to try a small Pass Lake. The first fish it drifted over took it and soon a 10" brook trout was wriggling in my palm. For a while I kept taking trout, a half dozen or so, on the little black fly. About half the time it took fish when I drifted and twitched it as a dry, the other half when I retrieved it back as a wet. But as the afternoon wore on the rises stopped and the reponse to the Pass Lake slowed. I retied on a BHPT as a point and a Gold Ribbed Hares Ear soft hackle as a dropper and fished down the last few riffles before I reached the trail back to the road. A few more smallish fish came to hand and then it was time to leave. As always I came away impressed with how moving water reshapes it's pathway as the years pass. This is the river where I became a fly fisherman. Some of the old deep holes I fished 25 years ago are now bouldery riffles. And, of course, some of the shallow glides I fished as a twenty year old rookie fly fisher are deep, dark runs. The trout's home is a metaphor for impermanence but still the trout themselves remain, a constant in an ever changing world of flowing water, rippling shadows and ephemeral flies. And hopefully they'll still be there when this ephemeral fly fisher is gone and replaced by a new rookie fisher, learning the ways of this river he's found. g.c. |
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![]() "William Claspy" wrote in message ... On 5/7/04 9:13 AM, in article , "George Cleveland" wrote: The trout's home is a metaphor for impermanence but still the trout themselves remain, a constant in an ever changing world of flowing water, rippling shadows and ephemeral flies. And hopefully they'll still be there when this ephemeral fly fisher is gone and replaced by a new rookie fisher, learning the ways of this river he's found. Nice. Thanks, George! Bill very nice, george. yfitons wayno |
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