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.