Another Day Camping

                                                                      Another Day Camping

11/06/26 

 The squirrels haven’t been squirreling, the deer were evidently hiding and the turkeys weren’t even yelping before flying off their roost in the morning or before they roosted in the evening. The ground was covered with dry crunchy fallen leaves so there was no use trying to trail any of them down with a shotgun or a bow. They’d hear me coming like a team of three students leafing through newspapers in a library. I decided to go fly fishing to bide my time while camping. Besides that I wanted to smoke a couple of cigars anyhow.

 The river was flowing clear and shallow. There hasn’t been any significant rain for the past 20 days or so. The wind on the other hand has been strong enough to blow the fragile Autumn leaves off the tall tree branches and cover the forest floor and well as, into the river. It was a chilly morning that I don’t think ever got above 53 degrees so I dressed warm. There was a call for rain so I packed a thin rain jacket in the back pouch of my fishing vest. I drove up river to start my fishing adventure.

 After putting on my hip waders and wading boots I assembled my 9’ 6 weight fly rod, put on my vest, grabbed a few cigars and headed to the water. I walked carefully down the leafy bank and looked out across the river with leaves floating and drifted about. The sky was overcast with gray clouds moving slowly out from the hillside bare tree tops. It was bright out but the sun was hardly seen up behind the moving cloud cover. There was a slight breeze that would blow up stream now and then which made the chilly air a bit chillier. I walked up the bank some and decided to fish my way back to the truck. 

 Upriver I clipped on a Woolly Bugger to my Fast-Snap and waded out up to my thighs. The water was just as cold as the air around me as I felt it caress me like tight fitting Under Armour Base Cold Gear clothing. I casted as far as I could towards the further bank and let my bugger swing slowly with the slow moving current. Every once in a while I would short strip or jig it back to me to possibly entice a strike as I continued to slowly wade downriver. I fished for about an hour without a strike. I did enjoy a cigar in the meantime. 

 Back at the truck I laid my gear in the bed of my pickup and decided to just fish out from my camper. I had caught both smallmouth and a few trout there before so I wasn’t totally giving up! Besides, I figured that would give me a chance to smoke another stogie before calling it quits for the day. 

 Back at the camper I put on my gear again and lit a cigar. I walked up the road to where I wanted to enter the river. Again the water was wadable pretty far out so I was able to cast pretty close to the deeper sections near the far bank. While puffy on the stogie I made long casts across creek. Every once in awhile a breeze would catch my line and the bugger would blow up stream in the air before falling to the water. Avoiding the surface drifting leaves was a 50-50 chance I’d catch one. It also was by chance I’d grab a leaf below the surface. I didn’t get frustrated though. It was better than sitting in the camper or sitting lifeless in the forest waiting for, what never did appear the days before, any legal animal to pursue or even see. 

 One of my casts landed my bugger between leaves and dropped beneath the surface. My line went limp which dropped the bugger deeper before it started to drift downriver. In a big arc the line started to straighten a bit down stream. All of a sudden I felt and saw my line shoot outward with a sharp tug. I yanked the rod back with my fingers tightening the fly line. Downriver a fish surfaced struggling and splashing the surface like an open mixing bowl of liquid being electrically mixed by two spinning beaters. He dove beneath and tugged some until I was able to force him up stream. He kept his distance and tugged a bit more but was no match for my 6 weight rod. I steered him nearer to me and into the net pretty easily. The trout laid there for a quick picture before I let him swim out of the net.  

 After that, wading slowly and still casting the Woolly Bugger, I missed one hard strike that I couldn’t believe I missed. By the time I got to the easy access back to my camper my stogie was down to the nub. I called it quits and waded out and back to the camper.

 It was a bit after 2:00. What better way to enjoy the chilly afternoon weather camping? How about a plate of smoked cheese, dried meats, crackers, an olive medley and a glass or three of red wine while watching a movie before a nap?  

~doubletaper