Yesterday was my birthday and I began chapter 58. Today, I am on the banks of beautiful Blue River near the small community of Tishomingo. And... today is day 1 of trout season. Here on this princess of the prairie ocean I begin to write my chapter 58.
The nightmarish summer is finally gone. Record heat and exceptional drought left behind a scarred land. Many currents of the prairie ocean ceased flowing and some went completely dry. Blue, however, reached deep within herself; deep into her innards and brought forth the lifeblood that nourish the wild children that depend on this river. Blue is indeed an amazing creation.
The torturous summer shut the carp by fly fishing down. My friend Charlie never gave up the quest though, and in the last of late summer or beginning of early fall he began battling the carp once again. For me, however, there was simply not the heart to go to a ravaged creek that seemed so unfamiliar.
The steps I take today are quite familiar... as friendly and inviting as they were thirty years ago. The bedazzled and colorful pretty-fish await the offerings I bring to them; the buggers, hare's ears, soft hackles, and san juan's. Here on this wonderful creation, from a time long ago, I have gone to that... place - the place of peace and reflection. Oh... how I wish... I could remain forever.
It's easy to tell that autumn is in full season now. Many of the trees at Blue are making an eye-catching show. The river is down; there's no doubt. However there is still plenty of flow to supply the pretty-fish with good oxygen and food source.
The fishing was excellent in the dim lit morning. I decided to open chapter 58 at Cottonwood Pool and on the first cast a trout took my offering. The next thirteen trout would also come from Cottonwood, but, then the trout seem to go off the bite.
From Cottonwood a trail downstream was struck with the Flats below the Island being the goal. The Flats are quite shallow and crystal clear. I cannot ever remember the Flats being void of trout with the first stocking, but, today there were absolutely no trout.
Backtracking, a position at the Island was taken and two more trout came to hand. Right after the second trout was landed Chuck and a friend of his arrived. After a good visit I told Chuck I was going downstream to check that sweet child we call Seventeen.
Seventeen is as shallow and perhaps the lowest I've seen in thirty years. Just like the Flats this inviting little water was sterile.
From Seventeen I traveled to Chimney. At Chimney I would discover a delightful pool where the trout were frolicking. I do believe, even though it was early morn, these trout could have been taken on dry patterns because they were hitting the indicator. Six more trout would come to hand before the wind picked up significantly. The wind had been steadily rising all morning and it looked like it was to stay.
The wind was enough to dislodge the golden and brown leaves of autumn splendor and the river quickly became jammed.
The trout are good looking fish; healthy looking with spendid colors and several of the trout today even had a little size too them - a pound and half that to go - not bad for early stockers.
By ten o'clock I am through. A tight schedule prevents a full day on the river Blue. I leave the river having met twenty-one trout on day one of chapter 58.