Wednesday 30th April, 2008
It doesn't matter how many times I see it.
It doesn't matter how small the fish may be.
When I witness a trout feeding on the surface, sipping tiny mayfly emergers or whatever, I just get excited.
And after going half a year without fishing a single hand rod, or any rod shorter that 12'6" or lighter than a 7wt, that excitement was enough to cause me all kinds of problems. I hate to admit it, but for the first time in probably 10 years I've gotten rusty at trout fishing.
The fact that the stream we were fishing last weekend was unwadeable and lined with alders didn't help matters much. I'd I lost a couple of teams of flies to the branches before settling down enough to get the first fish of the day. A perfect, wild, native redband rainbow. Things got better after that. A few browns and whitefish fell for our tiny baetis nymphs. Just like riding I bike, right? You never really forget.
At the tail of a long pool, up against the far bank, a tiny dimple on the smooth surface. This time I'm excited, but calm. No back cast. Two more flies lost in the alders and the last of the rust is finally gone from the gears. New flies, new tippet. Dry & dropper, with the tiny nymph only 6 inches off the dry. A sharp, 50 foot double spey puts the flies in the right place, down and across. Drag is the enemy now. Feed line in to the dead drift. Two feet. Four feet. Five, and the dry disappears. The rest is a blur. A solid brown trout, the biggest of the weekend, comes to hand. For a moment, the rainy Portland winter is a distant memory.
As for Magnus' secret feather contest, I don't know, but I'm pretty sure it isn't from a Golden Pheasant. We're tying flies with those feathers on this thread and they look like this...
Still waiting for Roy to come in with his first entry.
Until next week!
PS - More activism to protect Oregon's great native steelhead is on the way. Get ready.
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