Salmon Spit, Then Split

Fellow blog writer, Ashu Rao, and I are up in Pittsburg, NH, fishing for salmonids before the season closes in a few days (our river guide here).

I’m back at the motel room, stretching my back and having a 6 pm hard cider, while Mr. Young Legs is still out there. We started our day at 5:30 am, and so, that’s plenty of fishing for me.

I fished a half day on Friday and worked like a dog to land two fish until the dusk bite came on, and I duped six fish with dries until I could no longer see. The fish were pretty darn selective.

I was cold and hungry, and some prime rib was the right call. I mean, there’s just something feral and satisfying about a big chunk of meat after fishing.

 

This morning, Ashu and I hit one of the inlets, and it was breathtakingly beautiful. I found a sweet brown with a streamer. After a guy cut off Ashu to claim the best water, we piddled around and then took off to find new water.

I found a deep and wide run and promptly ran into a good-sized rainbow on a wet fly with my Euronymphing set up. I kept swinging and soon felt a real discernible “bump” on the line. I saw a flash of brilliant orange and hoped it would be a brookie.

I played the rod angles and was grateful to see this amazing hen.

 

A little bit later, I got another take. An absurdly huge salmon jumped twice, I tightened right away…and, the fish spit the barbless hook.

I flogged more water, but the fishing was slow,  I didn’t mind, though. There’s always tomorrow.

We are on the phone with fellow blog writer, Jamie Carr, as I finish this post. Soon, we will head over to Tall Timber for dinner.

Life is good.

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