Thursday, June 3, 2010

Not the Farmington, 6.2.10

Last evening I was planning on driving up to the Farmington but with the storms decided I didn't want to spend two hours in the car and then have the storms keep me from the water. So, a small local stream would have to suffice. At about 7 pm the skies cleared sufficiently that I wasn't going to risk an electrical end to my fishing career and I zipped out to the water.

The stream was a bit murky from the run-off but this was actually an advantage. This stream runs clear and cool and the trout are normally very spooky. With a little color in the water I didn't have to be half as stealthy as I usually do.

In my rush to get out of the house, I forgot that I was wearing a bright red t-shirt. This color wasn't going to cut it as small stream garb no matter how mixed the water was so I swapped it out for my green wading jacket. While it was just the right color it made the fishing a whole lot warmer than it should have been.

The hatch was a mix of March Browns, large pale flies (Cahills?) and tiny sulphurs. This stream hosts a wild population of Browns that range from three to nine inches. At the first pool I fished a Sulphur Sparkle Dun and got a few swipes but no fish on. My guess was the three inchers were playing with my fly.

I worked a few more runs downstream with similar results though one good fish, perhaps nine inches, was on just long enough for me to feel the tug and see the splash. I also spooked a fawn (or as I like to call them, walking Comparadun Hair) or maybe he spooked me as I walked through a hemlock grove. I was just thankful Mom wasn't around. I don't like getting in between mothers and children.

Next came a series of small pockets and pools. I switched to a nymph rig sporting a single fly -- I'm not sure how to describe it, it's essentially a chartreuse brassie except that I tie with a clear tube body over chartreuse thread to give it that glowing look. It's very similar to some caddis nymphs that I've seen in this water. I doubly figured that flashy, bright colors would help in the swirling, post-thunderstorm murk.

It worked.

Working the pockets I had six fish on and three to the net in the next twenty minutes. All Browns. Two at the nine inch end of the range and one at about three. With dark almost upon me and a half mile or so walk through the woods I made my way back to the car.

Of course, I couldn't help but stand for a bit and watch the rising fish near the bridge pool. By their rises, the trout seemed small but there's something calming about the cadence of fish rising during a good hatch.

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