R
riser
Member
- Joined
- May 21, 2007
- Messages
- 37
It’s 5:30 Sun eve and I have a 5 hour drive ahead of me, but I couldn’t resist pulling off at a small stream in northern Clinton Co. for just one more hour of flyfishing. The first brookie unraveled my #12 Royal Wulff, so I tied on an old favorite: a #12 Cream Variant, as popularized by Art Flick in his “New Streamside Guide,” one of my go-to resources in the 1970s.
There’s an impressively deep pool in front of me and I flipped the fly onto the center of the pool, thinking as I did so that I should have introduced the fly at the head of the pool. My regret evaporated instantly as a fish demolished the fly. From the size, the deliberate take, the big slab sides, and the long dogged fight, I’m thinking it’s a nice brown.
As I bring the fish closer, I see it’s got sort-of vermiculations on its back, but it doesn’t look exactly right for a brook trout. That’s when it hit me: a tiger trout! It’s an honest 11.5 inches long and very chunky and healthy and it looks wild to me.
Of course I reach for the camera in my cargo shorts (I learned to wade wet in Utah, where all the guides disdain waders in the summertime) thinking now I finally have a photo worthy of the tough crowd on Paflyfish. Then the camera doesn’t turn on and I realize the battery is dead!
#%&@ !!!!!
Trust me. It’s a lovely fish. And it’s still there for you to visit.
There’s an impressively deep pool in front of me and I flipped the fly onto the center of the pool, thinking as I did so that I should have introduced the fly at the head of the pool. My regret evaporated instantly as a fish demolished the fly. From the size, the deliberate take, the big slab sides, and the long dogged fight, I’m thinking it’s a nice brown.
As I bring the fish closer, I see it’s got sort-of vermiculations on its back, but it doesn’t look exactly right for a brook trout. That’s when it hit me: a tiger trout! It’s an honest 11.5 inches long and very chunky and healthy and it looks wild to me.
Of course I reach for the camera in my cargo shorts (I learned to wade wet in Utah, where all the guides disdain waders in the summertime) thinking now I finally have a photo worthy of the tough crowd on Paflyfish. Then the camera doesn’t turn on and I realize the battery is dead!
#%&@ !!!!!
Trust me. It’s a lovely fish. And it’s still there for you to visit.