I tied up some sheepfly flies before tackling the river this past weekend, but they did little good.
All I caught with that fly was a tree branch that had a hornets' nest attached to it. I felt the tug on my backcast and stopped, looked back at that caught my fly and froze.
I did not move.
I did not yank on the line.
I slowly backed out of the water, verrrrrrry slowly.
I had about 50 feet of line out, was on the river's bank behind another tree and gave it a big, quick yank to pop the fly loose.
Hey, it worked. I lost the fly but did not get tattooed by angry bugs.
It was pretty out all weekend, despite some threatening clouds that hung around like sullen teenagers at a mall that just closed. When it did rain, it was little more than a sprinkle.
The Davidson was crowded (big news) and the water fairly low. But on Monday those fish went crazy as I was driving into town for Mrs. Koontz. I stopped to look just below the hatchery and the water was boiling with feeding trout. Some anglers, like the one in the photo, actually caught some.
I had to get to the bank in a hurry before it closed. Then to two stores and a sushi restaurant( again for Mrs. Koontz),
When I returned to the Davidson several hours later, the show was over. No fish were moving.
I passed the white and black horse on the way home. There used to be a black and white horse in the same pasture. Wonder what happened to him?
In the end I managed to escape a serious fishless skunking as darkness dragged the last bit of light from over the river Monday. I had grabs from several and actually hooked a couple with enough heft to break my line, but did not catch anything until the sky turned rose and shadows melted into the ground.
You could hear the other trout out there just under the surface of the water ... laughing.