Short TR (and pix for Tim)

While I didn't test my overnight pack trip skills this past weekend (did
mess around with packing for one, and it looks like my pack would tip the
scales at right around 20 pounds), I did go out for the day on Saturday.

Went to what has become my usual spot, one which I value for its lovely
setting, relative proximity to home, and decent fishing. Saturday didn't
disappoint. The cornfield where I park had a healthy looking crop about as
tall as me, and I shared the stream with both heron and kingfisher.

The water was quite low- we haven't shared the deluge that eastern PA and MA
have gotten. But the water temp was quite suitable at 64 degrees. Low and
clear made for tricky but rewarding dry fly fishing. By mid day I'd caught
and released two fine looking feisty rainbows. The second and smaller of
the two I managed to photograph as he grinned for the camera:

http://salvelinus.cwru.edu/julybow.jpg

I sat a spell for a relaxing streamside lunch:

http://salvelinus.cwru.edu/coolspringsselfportrait.jpg

In the late afternoon, I decided to explore a small feeder creek that I'd
fished only once before. This is decidedly small water, ten feet across in
most places. Water was low here too, of course, and I decided to follow the
trail downstream and fish back to the car. Easier said than done. My last
visit was in early spring and the trail was relatively simple to navigate.
This time it was like negotiating the jungles of Cambodia. I kept expecting
Martin Sheen to appear. Mistah Kurtz, he dead. That sort of thing. But I
kept telling myself that this meant no one else had fished down there in
quite some time. A good thing.

Hiked ("hiked" being more like charging through the thicket) for 15 minutes,
felt like 15 miles but in reality was likely more like 1500 yards, then
tried to find the stream. This little water ends up braiding, and what I
found was one of the braids, a mixture of quickly moving freestone water and
pools backed up on fallen trees and various flotsam and jetsam. Could there
be trout in here? I managed to sneak up on one pool, and sure enough, there
was a decent size brown finning about, minding his own beeswax. Casting was
nigh on impossible, but I attempted a bow and arrow, clumsily landed the
parachute Adams, and promptly sent Mr. Fish scurrying for the nearest log
jam, where he probably stayed for the rest of the day. Maybe dapping would
have been a better approach?

Slogged my way back upstream, variously in the stream or out, doing much the
same spooking of fish. Fun but tiring, and an excellent close to a fine day
astream.

Bill