The SlimyHookeer text me asking if I was going to fish again, I wasn’t planning on it, he was talking about the upper river and the great flow, a rare opportunity. He said he was going, and I somewhat reluctantly said I’d bring a frying pan and we could cook up some punes.
Before long a text came in that he was bailing half-way to the river he stopped for gas and realized his wallet was at home. Since I had just loaded up the car, I left for the river anyway. ‘’
About 5 min later I reached for my coffee, damnitall I left it and my camera back at the house.
When I arrived at the parking lot there were four cars already there and one guy was gearing up.
I opened the hatch and popped the top on a beer and sliced up some cheese while I was deciding what to do, fish here or move on. Then this dude, in his spiffy new waders, boots, and vest, from Mt. Airy started to come over and he asked me if I fished here much before.
"This is my fifth day in a row," I grumbled at him with a lie as I hadn't fished this spot in a while.
"Wow, I fished here last November when the water was really low and I didn't catch anything, what's the secret out here" he replied.
"They are a pain in the ass," I said speaking of the fish. My comment took him aback, and I had to repeat and clarify my statement, "The fish are a pain in the ass!"
They dude got within 15 feet, and then thought better of it and stopped in his tracks.
He walked in and I finished my beer and drove on!
I headed to a spot I thought would be devoid of people and fished from a different direction.
Even at this lower flow some of my spots were difficult to get to and then I saw that the flooding had eroded the bank and a tree had fallen and block an old favorite. As I moved up I looked at a spot I had only fished once or twice before and after some back and forth negations with myself I climbed down the bank and gave it look over. Nope, can’t cast there, hmm, this looks good, and I peeled some line off the real and cast out into the deep run, strip strip strip. Then just as the fly approached the end of it’s run, a fish came up and went after the fly, it missed and I just stood there for a minute in awe, it looked huge. I cast again, hoping and watching intensely as I stripped the fly. A fish hit it a little further out, was it the same fish, or another one, I’ll never know. The fish put up quite a fight as I struggled to keep it out of underwater snags.
I moved on up to Fred’s pool and worked it. Fish on! Fish off. I thought it must have spit the hook but I soon realized that it had broken off on the 10 lb tippet right below the top knot. Must have nicked it, damnitallanyhow. Lost my last Rusty Trombone too.
Then I went up to the top run, a useless trip. Then I went back and covered the other side of the river, I caught nothing.
Then I moved on down to the lower reaches of the river.
Strange things left by the flood.
A shot for mudwall.
Damn it, time for new boots? Or will SIMMS warranty cover these?