Well, it has been awhile since there was much water in the neighborhood's trout streams. But the recent rain changed all that. Shame I hardly had a chance to wet a line. I spent most of the weekend running errands and trying out the new troutmobile after junking the old one, and then the brake's on Mrs. Koontz's Shopmobile gave out.
Sunday, close to dark, I tied on a big Adams parachute with a bright calftail post for easy visibility and hooked and lost a bunch of little wild rainbows. The one fish I actually landed was foul-hooked, and there is no honor in that.
The previous weekend I spent a good portion of Saturday on the North Mills. The fall colors were magnificent ... like fishing in church with the sun's rays cutting through overhanging trees bright as stained glass.
It was pretty, the water was still low and there was a flyfisherman for every trout. I elbowed my way past a couple, threw a elkhair caddis onto the water and hooked just one trout. It was my first time there on the North Mills, a Delayed Harvest river, so I spent most of the time out of the water just wandering around, kicking up leaves and breathing in the wonderful air. It was a good day.
My wife had my camera, but I got some good shots on the East Fork of the French Broad, another Delayed Harvest stream, the previous weekend. I slayed em with dries there one day and got skunked the next...at the very same spot fishing over the very same obstinate trout. Go figure.
My little home creek should be good this Saturday. Perhaps I will have it to myself.
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