Return to the Fly

With only 13 days left of the 2006 Trout Season, I purposefully pulled myself away from the urban jungle of the Lower Credit River, which is now starting to emanate the wretched odour of aging salmon, and unethical tactics. Below is a good depiction of the scene there this weekend, of which I did not take part.

I left this to once again enjoy the solitude of just me, my fly rod and a wild trout stream. I was welcomed with scenery that I then realized how much I had missed.

The impending warm front generated a great deal of fog this morning, which I thought would alleviate any apprehension that a trout may have in rising. But the decent Trico fall that I had hoped for this morning never did materialize, and only stray Caenis floated about. The trout remained deep within their lairs. Dry flies would stay in the box today, and the Hare's Ear, PJ and Flash-back Pheasant Tail, and Prince were the order of the day.

The PJ Pheasant Tail nymph was the first to be deployed and I soon tied into a medium sized Brown that seemed to have an identity crisis, as it cartwheeled through the air like a Steelhead. On it's second leap, it was free.

As I made my way downstream, I switched to my trusty Hare's Ear, which yielded nothing. The PJ and the Flash-back Pheasant Tails also were refused. Two hours passed without a sniff and my enthusiasm began to waiver. Finally, I decided to give the Prince nymph a try as I revisited the various runs, holes, and overhangs. I stopped at an old favourite spot of mine that had not produced for me since my "One of Those Days" entry. On my second drift through the wood strewn run, the line twitched very subtly and I instinctively raised the rod. Immediately, I felt head shakes and saw a brown flash within the depths. After a spirited tug of war, she came in for a quick photo, and off she went into her wooded den.

To be thorough, I drifted the same run to again see another subtle twitch, which turned out to be a smaller the 10" fellow with a lot of spunk. Now feeling confident with my Prince nymph, I continued upstream to another spot that I was convinced held fish. On the second drift, the fly line stopped suddenly and I raised the rod to feel a series of heavy headshakes. I could now see the fish clearly in the shallow run. It was a big male with brilliant colours in the 15-17" range. As we looked one another in the eye he shot downstream under a fallen tree and threw the Prince nymph back at me. The last time I fished this spot, I had a viscious hit that I wasn't ready for, and I'm convinced it was him again, taunting me for the second time. . .now, it's personal.

13 days left in the Trout Season - I will have to make the most of it.