This morning, still not knowing exactly how clear some parts of the river was, I sit down at the tying vise and churned out a couple of brown buggers. I like brown in off-colored water.
Everything stowed in the schooner I shove off at around 9:30 this morning and take my time in getting to the river. Back roads are in order today and even a couple of stops to take some pictures including one of a coyote.
The coyote seems like a lonely creature. As to why, I do not know. I do know farmers and ranchers care not for the coyote. I like them though - figure they're just struggling through life like so much of our wildlife does.
Upon arriving at the river, it's easy to see the river is clearing quickly, but, this is mainly in the shallow runs. Today I wanted to fish the deeper pools and in the wide, deeper stretches there was still some problems with clarity.
Seeing the foggy conditions of Ted's Pool, the brown bugger goes on the tippet and with a cast he sails through the air. Almost as soon as he lands a bow takes a fancy to the bug and the first trout comes to hand.
Within ten minutes I know it's going to be a good day on the water.
Within thirty minutes, I realize it may be one of those rare days - the kind of day that doesn't come around as often as it once did for this fly fisher. The kind of day you'll end with triple digits, flirting with fifty fish or so.
The bows couldn't seem to get enough of the brown bug. Many of the strikes were so subtle these old reflexes didn't work well and half as many fish were missed as were caught.
The bugger kept taking the hits and soon one bow delivered a debilitating blow as the bugger came unravelled.
The bugger is retired from the field of battle and another brown bugger, similar in size, is selected. The second bugger is different with it's dubbed marabou body and coined as the Duke of Marabou Brown. A fitting name it would seem because this bugger, the second one, is even more favorable to the trout.
The onslaught continues. A few short minutes later, the cup of coffee consumed on the trail down seems to hit bottom and it's time to head for the bank and take care of that business. While there, I decide to go on downstream instead of just wearing-out this particular fishing hole.
Next stop is Glory Hole and here I decide to tie on a red San Juan to the butt of the Duke of Marabou Brown. The worm is to see if these trout are just really active or they simply like the color brown in off-colored water. The duo are sent sailing, but, it isn't long until the worm is retired, receiving no action at all. The worm cannot compete with the popularity of the brown bugger.
The first three casts at Glory Hole are straight upstream at a distance of twenty-five feet. Only one tiny strike is the result. Then, I remind myself to always fish the water directly in front or to the sides and with an eight foot cast to my right, the bugger finds an additional plethora of trout.
Again, not wanting to wear the fishing hole out, I move once more and it's downstream to Seventeen. Poor little Seventeen is still not fishing well and hasn't been for several years now. What the problem is, I have no idea. But, the trout seem to have forsaken this sweet little shallow.
Moving upstream to the boulder above Seventeen, more trout are found. Off the boulder is a felled seaside alder. The branches of this tree penetrate the soup and two trout are taken off of that tree. Pushing my luck I keep casting a few feet to the left of the down tree and I gamble one time to many. One of the submerged limbs grabs the Duke of Marabou Brown and he gives his life at sea.
Going to the fly box, I find a brown bugger pattern Chuck Kaminski gave to me years ago. Chuck's pattern is the same color brown I'd been using, but, he added a little flash in the tail. This bugger goes on and the trout begin their jousting once again.
It's now almost 1 o'clock and I've been in the river for about three hours. The back is nagging and it's time for me to go.
I did not have a fifty fish day in the time I was there, but, I was just a few fish short of forty. That's a good morning for this fly fisher.
Stopping at Scotty's, a Gloria burger and Coors Light to go is ordered.
The weather was absolutely beautiful today... as was the fishing.
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