Had the pleasure of spending a warm Fall day fly fishing with the Venerated One. He brought along The Kid for added company… and for tying up the Venerated One’s gear, taking the blame for selected events, drinking the captain’s Alaskan Amber, providing chauffeur services and paying for our dinner at the end of it all. Not a bad choice.
Since my last visit to a favorite trout river in July, there were many changes. The river was down a few feet, and that changed the game plan accordingly. The focus on Jedi Knight casts to undercut grassy banks with hopper patterns and predictable outcomes had changed to desperately hucking various dries or nymphs into telltale seams, now visible rock gardens and inside corner soft water. Bare feet, shorts and sunscreen were also replaced by Gore-Tex waders. The boisterous mid-day inner tube and evening caddis hatches were replaced by…
nothing. (insert chirping riverside cricket sound here)
Although the anticipated BWO and Boeing-sized October caddis were a no-show and the catching was relatively slow on that particular day, there were many reasons to value the time spent. The conversations, swapped stories, resultant laughter and occasional celebrations added up to a golden day that was equally reflected in the Fall colors fringing the landscape along our way.
The Kid hooked the brute of the day and the largest trout he had ever tied into on this particular river but, sadly, had an SDR at the side of the boat. We unanimously agreed to count it, but that it was also The Kid’s fault that the awaiting dip net remained empty. The Venerated One brought the smallest one to hand for the day and also hooked a rare flying fish or two. The Kid had him beat in the small fish contest too but we just couldn’t count that one in good conscience as the little piddler was foul-hooked in his tail.
Should the Venerated One perchance read this post, one of your fly reels was left in my truck. You can just blame The Kid and have him retrieve it….