Whoda Thought... (TR)

.... a month ago when conditions felt like mid May that on May 14th it
would feel like mid April.

It was cold and the radar showed a big glob of rain heading our way. I
went fishing anyway.

Went to a place that I know I can usually pick up at least a little
fish. Took the Legend Ultra 5wt. with the new Rio hard finish line on
it. I wanted to see how it would cast streamers in particular. Also I
wanted to see if the hard finish would make it useless in colder
weather. and colder it was. The temp was in the mid 40s when I drove
north through Gleason. Every bridge seemed to have at least one car
parked at it. Some had several. But luckily my spot was empty. In a
soft drizzle I strung up the LU and bent on a Pass Lake streamer. The
line worked very well. I had stretched it before I went in the water
and though it was stiff it was still able to be cast just fine. The
water looked gray and dead and no fish came to the Pass Lake. Nor did
any come to the red bodied bucktail I tried next. But a green floss
bodied, grizzly winged deal did. And soon I was looking at a small
brookie cradled in my hand. Another brookie took a swipe at it. And
then it began to rain. The jacket in the back pocket of my vest came
out and was wiggled into. I strolled through the woods back upstream
and decided to see how the line would handle a nymph/indicator combo.
A Gold Ribbed Hares Ear was suspended about 2' below a red yarn
indicator. I cast above a large rock and immediately the indicator
dove under the rushing water. Another small brook trout came to hand.
The next cast took another, then another and then another. Finally a
few drifts went uninterrupted. The rain stopped and the sun actually
peaked out from behind the clouds. Seeing that the fish were being
co-operative I thought I'd see if I could finally get the Pink
Squirrel to live up to its reputation. I tied a dropper of the GRHE
and tied on a #14 Pink Squirrel. A couple more drifts and then the
yarn sank. A twitch strike and a bigger fish splashed at the surface.
But it had taken the GRHE not the Squirrel. A few more drifts and
another brookie on the Hare's Ear. Then another. Finally the bobber
dipped and the tight line extended down below the Hares straight to
the Pink Squirrel which was attached to a struggling brook trouts...
forehead. The sky to the west were dark again and I wanted to try a
commercial wet fly I had bought a few weeks prior. The McGinty was
duly tied on and another dropper attached to its eye. A small olive
bead head soft hackle was attached to that. The combo was cast below
and the flies swung through the current. A few swings and the tug of a
trout signaled its interest. The fish had taken the old style wet.
More casts brought more fish, some on the McGinty, some on the soft
hackle. Then the skies opened up and I waddled the short way back to
the Subaru.
I was going to go home, I really was, but by the time I retraced my
path through Gleason the rain had change to a soft cold drizzle. I
thought of the Redington 4wt. in the back which had yet to take a fish
and also of the spot I knew that was a BWO factory. I ended up at a
small parking lot by a bridge. There was an old Chevy pick up parked
there also, the yellow of its paint blending seamlessly with the
orange rust that was devouring it from below. A quick scan up and down
from the bridge didn't reveal its owner. I uncased the 9 footer and
threaded the line up through its guides. It was a new line so I
mounted a new leader to its end. I tied on a 6X tippet leaving both
ends untrimmed. On the short end I tied a #22 Fuzzball. On the longer
end I tied a small dark olive soft hackle.
Wading carefully into the water I noticed a rise along the far bank.
Then another small fish swirled below me. I cast to the bank a few
times and finally got the drift right and had a fish come up and take
the soft hackle, which was floating in the surface film. As I brought
the fish in another fish rose in the wake left by the run of the
first. Unhooking the fish I cast again and hooked the fish that had
just risen, again on the soft hackle (which I'll now call the
"emerger"). Two more fish below me fell to the same tactic and fly and
then the pool calmed itself and no more rises were seen. I worked my
way up stream. The rises were very widely separated, sometimes by a
hundred yards or more. But the "emerger" continued to take fish. And
then the drizzle turned to rain again. I was a good distance up from
the car. I decided to head down, the rain beading the rivers surface
around my waders.
I changed flies, putting on a bead head GRHE soft hackle below
another commercial wet I had bought, a #12 March Brown. Then I rapidly
made my way downstream casting to likely looking spots. The first fish
came to the March Brown. The next two to the softie. By the time I had
made it back to the little blue Subaru I had taken another half dozen
smallish brookies, the biggest maybe 10". The sun then decided to make
an appearance as did a blue mini-van in the parking lot. The guy came
down to the water and asked "Up or down?". Deciding to take advantage
of the sunshine for awhile longer I said "down" and waded under the
bridge. I cast to the faster water and picked up a pixyish trout. I
looked up stream at the guy above, held up the fish for him to see,
shrugged and worked my way further down. A few more casts and I hooked
a nicer fish, maybe 11". I looked upstream again, saw the guy watching
me, held up the trout, shrugged again and then let it go. I rounded a
bend, leaving the parking lot, cars, bridge and fellow fisher behind.
I negotiated a deep hole, the cold water pushing against my waist.
Below the hole was a long series of riffles. I fished my way down.
Taking a trout here and there. About half way down the wind began to
roar and a low bank of black rain clouds scudded up out of the west. I
tightened the hood of my rain jacket, tucked my rod under my arm and
hunched down to wait out the downpour. Again the drops scattered
silver beads across the rivers face. The wind pushed the rain
downstream in sheets. And just as suddenly as it started it stopped.
The sky lightened but there were more clouds to the northwest. My
hands were cold. My feet were cold.
Then I heard a splash and turned to see the bubbles from the rising
fish drift downstream. A quick survey soon revealed an occasional
small gray sailboat shape drifting down the current. I fumbled on a
#16 Adams. And immediately caught one fish, two fish and then again I
was in the middle of a downpour. I stumbled upstream taking an
occasional cast. Surprisingly the little fly didn't sink. Even more
surprisingly I took a fish near the run out of the big pool. I felt my
way around the edge of the deep water. By the time I reached the
bridge the rain had lightened some but it was still falling steadily.
Crawling up the bank, I turned and took a last look at the water. And
noticed the rings of a rise fading amongst the rings of the raindrops.
A quick cast and another fish, 9" or so came to hand. The I went back
to the car. As I peeled off my wet jacket, vest and waders the rain
stopped. The sun came out. I went home.


hth

g.c.

On 5/14/05 10:30 PM, in article ,
"George Cleveland" wrote:
snip
The sun came out. I went home.


hth

It did. Thanks George!

Bill

"George Cleveland" wrote in message
...
... a month ago when conditions felt like mid May that on May 14th it
would feel like mid April.
(snip)
g.c.

Thanks g.c.,
I enjoyed the rainy trip.
BestWishes,
DaveMohnsen
Denver
(and I whoda thought )

George Cleveland wrote:
stopped. The sun came out. I went home.


hth

g.c.


it'll do, pilgrim...it'll do.

jeff

George Cleveland wrote:
snip
Crawling up the bank, I turned and took a last look at the water. And
noticed the rings of a rise fading amongst the rings of the raindrops.
A quick cast and another fish, 9" or so came to hand.

Very nice, George. Thanks for the ride.
--
TL,
Tim
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http://css.sbcma.com/timj/