I went to a local spot yesterday. Although the air temps hovered around 55 ˚F, snow melt was minimal, and the river ran high but clear. I fished many familiar runs and holes in a favorite section. Nothing. I tightline-nymphed, fished a dry-dropper, and even micro-nymphed with an indicator. Still, I failed to induce a take.

There is a place I fish once or twice a year. It’s a small, humble, tannic stream that flows under a main road big enough to have a route number assigned to it in central MA. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Jamie Carr (@immaculate_fins) It comes babbling out of a forest,

I fished a new stream earlier this week. Although it ran clear, the water was still cold from snow melt. Since I never before had fished the stream, I had nothing to go by. I didn’t know how many fish were there  or where their usual lies were. I searched all the typical types of