Two Hours To Spare

Actually there were four hours to spare, but counting driving time and the time I needed to visit with Scotty there would be only two hours of actual fishing time.

When I got to the south wilderness I was surprised at the crowd that had already arrived.  Counting the vehicles, I counted nine other anglers, or party of anglers.

I was behind when I got there!

 

Getting to fish during the week is a rarity for me - usually I am resigned to a part of the day on Saturday or Sunday.  So, I didn't waste anytime getting to the water.  Oh my gosh.... how pleasantly surprised I was at the level of the river.  With the Tuesday evening rain, she is up to about what many of us call normal.  Furthermore, you could see the change in the flow and that was even more exciting.  At least now, a fly fisher can get a decent drift.  I'm still convinced that the flow does make a difference in fly-fishing for trout. 

Sent sailing was the duo of a bugger and emerald greenback brown hackle Crackleback.  The Crackleback would take the first five fish leaving the bugger feeling somewhat jaded.  Finally the bugger would take a bow of his on, but then the Crackleback would take two more.  The Crackleback was taken out of action and the bugger would find one more bow.


The Crackleback - junk fly or just buggy looking?

 

After the second bow taken by the bugger, a fly that would prove to be the "fly of the day", (or two hours), was tied on.  A size 12 soft hackle brown was employed and from there on it was nothing but non-stop action.  The soft hackle would either capture or loose the battle with every cast.  At first I thought a remarkable pocket of water had been found, so I move to another spot I had watched an angler fish for the better part of an hour without catching a fish.  The soft hackle took bows there also.

  

The bugger struggled, but caught a couple.

 

A third spot was chosen to test the soft hackle and he also took bows there.  The two hours seem to pass quickly and some of the bows caught today were pleasantly nice.  Fat with vibrant colors.


The soft hackle ruled today.

 

If the river would stay at the level she was today, I think the fishing would be fair to good most of the time.  The weather was great as far as temperature, but the wind was brutal today and I'm thankful I took a big stick today in order to cut through the wind.


Nicest bow of the day at a pound and half.

 

With my two hours expended, I leave the river having met twenty-five bows.  Today, I left a river that looks somewhat normal and healthy.  I give thanks. 

Dissecting The South Wilderness

A goal this season is to gain a better understanding of the northern wilderness area of the river Blue.  To do that, however, will require outings where most of the day can be dedicated.  This may prove to be rare occasions early in the season.

Another goal is to dissect the south wilderness, further exploring the complexities of this almost magical and at times mystical place.  If there is such a thing as perfect water... then it has to be here in the south wilderness. 

Departure is late today.  Finally on the road into the south, the beaten path is familiar.  The walk is slower these days - the stride shorter.  Labored breath, tiredness comes quickly, but a refreshing tiredness it is. Along the main road there is a trail.  If taken, this trail will lead the angler past inviting water that promises intimacy.  The water in this area, known as the Scattters, plays an ensemble of nature's music that leads to a number of crescendos as travel continues.  Sometimes... it's quite nice to just sit on a rock... and listen.  

This trail of beauty leads back to the beaten path.  However, the well-traveled road is required for only a short distance.  A patch of water that begs for understanding is near, and it is here, today, that the dissecting for understanding begins. 

A bugger is plucked from his nest.  Eye threaded.

    One twist, two twist, three twist, four.

    To make for sure, one twist more.

    Through one loop then the other,

    Tippet on bend for the brother,

    Bugger and Zug will sail together,

    Seamen of the proud fur and feather.

First cast, a bow to hand.  Lance removed, fish slips back to his watery den.  Second cast, bow to hand.  Third cast... bow wins the battle.  No matter where the flies sail today, they seem to find fish.  Darker, deeper, emerald colored pockets are the keys. 



This patch of water is dissected from bottom to top, from near bank to far.  Catching is almost too easy.  Amazing the number of fish that still exist, considering the masses that ascended on the river this past week. 



The wind is hard today. Time is short, for the prairie home beckons. The outing is done, the day is made. Thanks given, river left for another day.