Dry Flying

                                                                             Dry Flying

5/05/26 

  Tuesday I decided to go bottomless. I kept my bugger box and sucker spawn box in my fly vest and carried my caddis boxes ready at all times. I drove up creek where I had caught many a trout in recent years on caddis dries. I parked, assembled my Scott Session 4 weight fly rod and lengthened the 4x tapered leader with 5x tippet the full length being about 8’6” the same length of the rod. I put my vest on and of course grabbed a few cigars.

 It was a cloudy overcast morning with a slight breeze and an occasional gust of wind. The sun was rising over the hillside that reflected its rays off the clouds above and down upon the forest and water. The weather people were calling for occasional showers with temps reaching into the 70’s. For now it was in the 60’s but I was hoping, once the sun was up above, bringing warmth, that a caddis hatch would appear. 

 The first section I fished I couldn’t get a take on my caddis dries. I was almost going to throw a bugger but promised myself to dry fly only. I waded out of the water and walked through the forest to the section of water I wanted to spend time dry fly fishing. When I got there, there was an older gentleman, with a fly rod, fishing from the opposite side of the creek. There was plenty of room between us to fish the wide section of water. My dedicated dry fly fishing went like this;

 There wasn’t anything happening on top of the water for awhile. I was casting a big #12 deer hair caddis in the faster wavy current and would cast a #14 caddis in the slower current. I figured that the bigger caddis, for the trout, would be easier to see on the wavy current. In time there was a few rises as small caddis were coming to the surface and fluttering off the water. Unless I saw a rise I was blind casting in different areas and making trout rise. 

 Most of the trout I caught on the dry were brown trout with a few rainbows mixed in. The brown trout were extra aggressive after being hooked. I caught some nice size brown trout that tore the caddis dry up pretty much unusable. 

  I was tying fresh caddis dries often replacing the beat up or drenched caddis from floating. Each new caddis I knotted on I would dap the body with dry fly gel before casting it out. When I caught a trout or the caddis wasn’t floating, my process is to dry off the caddis with my cotton handkerchief and then shake it in the bottle of silicone powder. Before casting it back out I would bend the deer hair or elk hair wing straight up for a better profile. When a trout rose to it I usually caught it though I did miss a few.  

 The fly guy across stream was fishing beneath the surface but I never saw him catch a trout. He wasn’t an amateur as he roll casted well and held the fly rod like he knew what he was doing he just wasn’t catching any trout beneath the surface. At times he’d sit on a rock and watch me casting my dry flies out and hooking up to rising trout.    

 When he sat on the rock and watched, most times, I would make long casts to his side of the creek. I asked him if he minded and he nodded his head no. I caught a couple on his side of the creek. 

I was biding my afternoon smoking cigars and casting dry flies under the occasional sunshine. 

 

 I was making easy casts when the wind died down and forced a cast across the gust of wind when I had to. (On windy days I use a fast action rod that cuts the wind a lot better than a medium to slow action fly rod.) My overhand arm motion was as uniform and consistent like the second hand on a grandfathers clock and as smooth as a well oiled grocery conveyer belt. When no wind was involved I had open loops leaving the caddis on the water with enough slack for a drag free drift being upstream, across creek, or downstream. When a cross-wind was involved I made quick and justifiable sharp closed loop casts to my target area. 

 I’m sure the other guy noticed I was dry fly fishing. He did mention that there wasn’t a hatch or nothing on the surface he could see for the fish to rise to. I told him “I make’m rise.” My theory is the reason trout aren’t rising is because there isn’t anything for them to rise to. On a day where caddis or mayflies aren’t about I still give the trout something to rise to. Sometimes all I have to do is see one riser which tells me the trout are looking up, as some would say. Fly fishermen won’t cast a dry because there isn’t a hatch going on or they don’t see any trout rising. Time and again I’ve watched guys walk down to the bank of a creek or river and look it over as if looking for rising trout or a hatch. If they don’t see any surface activity they walk away. No problem as far as I’m concerned. As my dad always commented “that’s more for me!”

 Near the far side of the creek, near the older gent sitting on the rock watching me, I saw a splash to the surface near the tail out of the faster wavy run. I made a sharp cast upstream from the splash, with my caddis, and watched for a rise. First and second cast didn’t happen. I waded upstream, along the bank, to get a better angle to get my caddis to reach the zone, dry fly first before the tippet. I made a looping cast and the dry caddis fell to the water upstream from my target zone. The bullet-head deer hair caddis wing was standing up like I wanted. As my offering drifted and bobbed on the riffling water a trout splashed to the surface. I quickly yanked the rod back and the line tightened and I swear 7 plus feet of the rod bowed towards the take. I called out “gotcha.” I could tell I had a heavy trout as we battled for supremacy. The whole time I hooked and battled with the trout the older gent watched me play him to the net. The rainbow was the biggest of the day. After releasing the hook from the side of its mouth I raised the rainbow for the guy across the creek to see. He nodded his head in approval. Being I fish mostly alone it’s nice to get an approval from an unknown fellow angler.  

 It wasn’t very long after that the older gent got up and walked up to his truck. I waded out and up the bank to dry land. I carefully walked through the forest upstream to where my truck was parked. I did make a few casts with the dry caddis where I started without a rise. No matter, I was happy with the results for the day.

 

~doubletaper

 

 

Surplus

                                                                             Surplus

                                                                  (Birthday trout of 2026)

5/04/26 

Surplus; An amount of something left over when the requirements have been met.

 

  I consider the in-season stocking of trout as surplus trout that the Fish Commission had left over in their raising facilities. Well, Friday they stocked about 8-9 buckets of these surplus trout in the creek out from my camper. The 2 buckets I did see guys throw in, as if feeding alligators at a zoo, were rainbow trout. This was around noon. I was told this was the first stop and was to continue upstream stocking the rest of the surplus trout in the creek.

 After the stocking, Friday, fishermen came and gone trying their luck. It was a cold and rainy day, and the fishermen didn’t stay more than an hour. Not that I was watching them continuously, but I didn’t see anyone catch anything and I figured if they were catching trout they would of stayed longer. By 3:00 I couldn’t stand it any longer, knowing that there were all those trout in the creek just out from my camper, I had to give it a try. I assembled my old SAS Scott 8’ 6” 5 weight fly rod and got my gear on. To get a better drift, and away from the bank fishermen, I crossed the creek upstream and fished from the opposite bank. I caught a few in the couple of hours, but it surely was slow going. The bank fishermen weren’t doing all that better either. I figured the trout weren’t accustomed to the colder temperature of the creek water as the water in the truck tank they came in. Maybe like being a newcomer at the factory picnic and too shy to participate in the activities.

 Saturday the trout weren’t all that active either. Again, fishermen and women came and gone throughout the morning and afternoon. I wasn’t sure how many were caught but what I could tell that not many as they didn’t hang around too long either. By the evening, I was fishing, from across creek, and another fisherman was fishing off the bank. We caught a share of trout but again the trout participation wasn’t all gung-ho.

 Sunday was a whole different story. I was out early, though it was in the high 30’s. The creek was in great condition with a greenish color and dropped some from not raining much the day before. There were actually flurries in the morning that came down drifting in the slight breeze like pollen while we were fishing. I was casting Woolly Buggers, from the opposite bank, as another fisherman was throwing bait from the camper side of the creek. He was catching trout one after another with just about every cast when he started. He commented that the trout were really hungry. If he told his friends he was catching trout, one after another, they might not believe him but I witnessed the event. As time went on I caught some on the Woolly Buggers but was no match to as many as he was catching.  

He said he was using shrimp scented salmon eggs. From where I stood the salmon eggs looked reddish.

 One thing a fly fisherman can’t imitate and that is flavor of our offerings. I figured that the trout that fisherman was missing, the salmon egg would have of either been eaten by the missed trout or drifted downstream and sure enough another trout had a free meal. I knotted on a pink-blood dot sucker spawn under a beaded Oregon Cheese sucker spawn. I started to fish down creek from him and my hook up rate increased.    

 After an hour or so later he commented that he emptied a bottle and a half of those salmon eggs. He said he could hardly feel his finger, from the coldness of air and water, and called it quits. He said he caught 30 trout. I actually believed him and he might have miscounted on the lower side!

 Monday, after turkey hunting, I decided to take a drive upstream. I was kind of tired fishing the same water, in front of the camper, catching the surplus trout. As I drove up the dirt road I was surprised at the number of parked vehicles along the side of the road in good fishing spots for a Monday. Anyhow, I continued to drive up creek until I got to a section where only one truck was parked up the road a bit. I assembled my new Scott Session 8’6” fly rod, made sure I had enough supplies, and headed down the path to the creek. I was ready for a long adventure. 

 I started off swinging a Woolly Bugger in the wavy riffling current as I was crossing and heading downstream. After a few casts a trout grabbed the bugger hard like a husky guy surprising an agitator, with a choke hold, trying to fool around with his trophy girlfriend! It was the hardest take of my Woolly Bugger since fishing the creek since setting up camp. My 4-weight bowed and pointed to the struggling trout as the trout scurried and tugged in the oncoming current. Bringing him up in the oncoming current was a task. He pulled and tugged until I got him in the slower current near me. There he stayed low and maybe tried to take a breather from his hard energetic fought battle. I wasn’t going to let him take a breather. I lifted the rod and he rose flipping his tail in anger, but I was able to scoop him up in the net.  

 This was only the second brown trout I had caught while camping along the creek. It was a dandy brown at that. I’m not sure he was just transplanted as surplus, but I would bet he’s been in here since the original stocking in March or a holdover. 

 Wading down creek, I wasn’t getting any nudges for a while. I was switching from different color Woolly Buggers to different shades of triple threats. I felt like a peddler at a bus stop trying to sell tofu hot dogs and no one wanted one. They didn't even want a free sample. I’d cast towards the far bank and let the streamer swing down creek. I was surprised I didn’t get a strike before I got to a deeper section of creek.

 Now, when I say deeper section of this upper section of the creek, I’m not implying that it’s over my head. Maybe waist deep at the most. The sun was nearly above but the forest leafy trees cast shadows on the deeper hole down creek from where I stood. I have caught many of trout in recent years, in this section, so I was expecting some action. Kind of like going into a well-known nightclub with loud music and aggressive girls that want to dance! 

 I was casting a Woolly Bugger down and across creek letting it swing in the slower current in the deeper section. I would lengthen the line after each cast, so the bugger swung down further. I waded a couple of steps down towards the hole but kept my distance. Another cast the bugger dropped near the far bank and I was watching the arc in the floating line when WHAM! A fish grabbed the bugger like a cop grabbing an unsuspecting suspect by the wrist. I reared back the rod for a tight hook set, but I do believe the way the fish grabbed the bugger he set the hook into his jaw himself. 

 The Scott rod bowed deep and wavered as the trout tugged ferociously on the other end like the suspect trying to shake the handcuffs loose from the cop's grasp. He turned and headed for an underbrush down creek and the Hardy featherweight reel clicked like the last 10 seconds of a time bomb. I held the line tight and moved the rod down creek and towards my side of the bank to keep him from going under the underbrush cross creek. Hoping my 5x tippet and knots hold tight, I coaxed him into the center of the stream. He followed with yanking tugs. Once out of danger I swung the rod level with the surface water across from me trying to force him to swim upstream. He tugged and tried pulling away but the torque of the arced rod was too much, and he swam up creek defiantly. Once, almost across from me, I saw a bright ribbon of red along his side like a crimson ribbon in a lighted museum display. I swung the rod downstream again trying to bring him down from me, but he held tight in the oncoming current. I lifted the rod some putting side pressure on him. My forearm tightened and my grip on the cork was tight despite my arthritic fingers. He finally succumbed to the pressure, turned, and swam down creek from me. Trying to bring him into shallower water wasn’t his idea of a better escape and swam back into the deeper pool of water. Again, I forced him up creek and when he got close enough to seeing me, I suppose, he didn’t like the circumstance he was in and darted away. Not wanting a bunch of line laying on the water I was reeling in line when he let me. 

 Knowing he didn’t like the shallower water near the bank I knew I had to net him in the knee-deep water around me. After a few more headshakes I had him down creek from me and was bring him upstream. He followed my lead till he swam up creek from me. I took my net out with my left hand and held it in the water with the line pinched against the cork grip with my right hand. Slowly I backed him up to the net as I raised the rod. He turned but it was too late for him to escape. He turned right into the net headfirst! 

 Now, I’ve netted some whopper birthday trout in my time. Though he wasn’t quite the whopper, I don’t remember one being as pretty. Under the sunshine his crimson sash seemed to glow. It was if he won the red sash in a beauty contest among his trout peers! Though it’s been a few weeks since my birthday I christened him as my birthday trout. He was just a late surprise present! I unhooked the bugger from his jaw and set him free. 

 I lit a Surplus stogie for a just reward. 

 I fished down creek some and caught one more rainbow on a Woolly Bugger. 

 I returned to where I caught the prize fish and caught two rainbows on a dry caddis. 

 I returned to my truck and headed down creek to a different area. I caught a few more trout on a Woolly Bugger.   

 With my back and arthritic fingers aching I called it a day and returned to the camper. It was a fine day on the water.

 Friday morning, I opened the door of my camper to go outside. Across the creek, in a tree, a bald eagle was sitting on a branch. I think he was looking for one of those surplus trout! 

~doubletaper 

North Carolina Trout Fishing

North Carolina Trout Fishing

4/20/26 

 Visiting my Two youngest son’s in North Carolina we came together and went fishing. They took me to the Catawba River Sunday morning. The water looked in beautiful condition but the few places we fished we had very few strikes and didn’t catch any trout. In the afternoon we went to a smaller creek that was stocked a week or so ago. It was a much smaller, narrow stream with shallow riffles but quite a few deeper holes about. 

 We spread out along the creek as we headed upstream from where we started. We all found fish but they were pretty spooky. The sun shown through the trees upon the water so it was easy to see the groups of trout in deeper holes which mostly didn’t even look as deep as thigh high. Casting a streamer towards them was like tossing a tear-gas bomb at a bunch of protesters. They scattered momentarily but eventually returned as a group. Some of the trout would look at other offerings but refused to play our game. My son Giddeon was the only one that convinced a trout to bite. He was fishing above them from a bank. Maybe they couldn’t see him but anyhow he caught one. After that he and my son, Jesse Pete, went walking upstream to explore the creek before we headed home

 On the way back they told me up creek, from where we were, there was a string of trout looking like a group of steelhead ready to make a run upstream. They convinced me to fish the creek on Monday and get there early. Monday morning I was up early and ready to go.

 After assembling my Hardy Demon 3 weight fly rod and getting my gear together in the parking area I headed for the creek. The water was just as white tequila clear than the day before so I knew I had to try and be concealed. I found the area they informed me about. Sure enough there were plenty of trout in the stretch of a pool strung out much like a row of a bunch of people in line waiting for the doors to open at an arena event. I tried fishing for them from behind them, across from them and finally upstream from them. I sat on the stony bank like a kid pondering what to do? 

 I had boxes of offerings in my fly vest. I tried many varieties of flies from dries, wet flies and a few nymphs. Nymph fishing wasn’t feasible because of the stony, rocky bottom and slow moving current. The ones I did catch went like this;

 There were a few trout rising in different areas in the wide pool. My first catch was with a #16 elk hair caddis. I missed the first rise to it but was able to hook the second one.

He wasn’t a big trout so I didn’t take a picture. 

 My second catch was with a #18 Blue Wing Olive para-dun with a CDC post. The trout came up and slurped it in and I quickly wrist the rod for the hook set. As calm as the trout looked, just holding stationary, once hooked they took off and fought wildly in the wide pool. I got him to the net safely. The small dry was neatly hooked into the crook of his mouth. 

 I tried a couple of wet flies but couldn’t get a bite. On one occasion I knotted on a soft hackle wet fly and tossed it across creek from my sitting position. The dry fly didn’t have time to sink before a trout rose to it and grabbed it. I jerked the 3 weight up and back and the trout took off like a wild cat. It took some time, on my 6x tippet, but I was able to net him also. 

 After that they didn’t appear to want anything. By now the sun was pretty much above the far hillside. The water was as clear as a gin and tonic. The trout that I was able to see looked like they were still, relaxing under the sunshine. 

 The trout have been stocked a week or so ago here in NC. I figured, when they were hungry, they were used to the natural nymphs and hatches in the creek. They wouldn’t take any more of my caddis or small mayfly imitations. I tried wet flies and, except for the one on top, they appeared not to go for them. I was till determined to catch another. 

 A guy I have tied flies for, for steelhead, asked me to tie a glo-bug called a Dead Egg. When he showed me one it looked like a food pellet that the hatcheries feed the trout they raise. I had a couple in my steelhead fly box with sucker spawn and a variety of glo-bug patterns. I picked out one of the Dead eggs and knotted it on the 6x tippet. Standing up now I tossed the Dead egg across creek. I couldn’t see it, as the far side was shaded from the sun. It didn’t appear to drift very far when the line pulled. I just wasn’t prepared and missed the hook up. This did give me a good feeling that maybe the other trout might be interested. 

 A couple of casts later I watched as the Dead eggs drifted into a line of trout. A trout swam up and examined it like he was deciding what flavor it was. Kind of trying to pick out a jellybean, sniffing it, not knowing what it’s going to taste like. I watched as the Dead eggs was still drifting as the trout back swum deciding what or when to make a move. I saw the trout dart at the egg and when I saw the white of his mouth open, I waited a split second, and raised and rod to set the hook. I felt the rod bend and line tightened and watched the trout turn and take off down creek into deeper water. There wasn’t much space for him to go as the pool of water spilled over a narrow channel of riffling water. He tugged and pulled on the line as he circled the pool of water. I got nearer to the water and knelt down and netted the frisky rainbow.

 I played around and caught two more small rainbows before getting tired of teasing the pooled up trout and decided to head down creek. I lit a cigar and carefully crossed the tail end of the pool and walked the bank looking for trout. 

 Slowly walking the bank, trying to be inconspicuous, I spotted a few trout holding mid-creek. I was pretty sure they saw me upstream from them but I decided to try for them. I crouched down along the bank, on dry land, and made a cast up creek from them letting the Dead egg drift into their sight. A couple of trout swam up and inspected it. One must have noticed something odd and swam away. The other looked skeptical as it kept its distance as if smelling for a satisfying scent from the egg pattern. Not fully satisfied it turned a swam off. I gave a couple more drifts towards the half dozen of trout holding in the deeper water but they appeared wary of my offering. 

 I stood up briefly and noticed there were a few trout downstream on my side of the creek. I wasn’t sure they had saw me so I knelt down again. Sidearm backcasting up creek I tossed the egg down, mid-stream across creek. I watched as the egg pattern started to drift towards the trout holding in the back end of the deeper water. Suddenly a trout darted for the egg pattern and I waited till I saw the white of its mouth. He sucked in the egg without any hesitation but before he felt it was a trap it was too late. I reared back on the rod, as I stood up, and set the hook before the trout could spit it out. He took off across creek and some line slipped through my tensioning finger. As the rod arced the trout turned and swam down creek without me letting him have any more line. He tugged with head shakes and swam mid creek. In the meantime the other trout were swimming around as if clearing room for the frantic swimming hooked trout. After a short he settled some and I was able to get him nearer to me. He splashed the surface as I knelt down to net him.  

  I caught one more on the Dead egg of the few trout down creek before calling it a day. 

~doubletaper

9 to 5

                                                                                9 To 5

                                                                              4/08/26 

 I got to the small creek around 9:00. It was another chilly morning in the ANF. I don’t think it was 40 degrees yet but I was going trout fish’n. By the time I got my waders and boots on, my 7’6” 4 weight Powel rod together and ready it might of been near 9:30. I wasn’t late by any means! There was no clock to punch in, no employees to contend with or boss to cope with. It’s great being retried!

 I stepped into the creek and the mountain water surrounded my ankles and shins. The chilly outside temps might have shivered my senses but the cold chilled water was an eye opener. I knew the best position, to get a good drift in the current, was to cross the creek. I took careful time crossing the stony millstones that moved beneath my boots. Once on the other side I walked the bank, not wanting to disturbed the water before stepping in. Checking my surroundings I’d be mostly roll casting. The laurel and thin branches, that overhung some of the bank behind me, was definitely something I wanted to avoid.

 I started to roll cast a Woolly Bugger across and let it swing down creek. After a few casts I finally got a bump. I kept at it and finally got a hook up. My first trout took a Woolly Bugger. 

 Not getting another strike for some time I considered my options. I was prepared for a long day on the water so I had plenty of offering options in my pockets. I selected a Triple Threat streamer and hooked it to my Fas-Snap. Looking up in the overhanging tree I saw a bunch of fishing line hanging down from the branches besides an indicator and some brand of spinning lure. I figure the line was cast from the other side of the creek or the water was too high to retrieve it from my side. Anyhow, if fishermen were using minnows my Triple Threat might entice more strikes. I always figure bait fishermen, using minnows, don’t always hook up with a trout when a fish grabs it. In turn the loose minnow drifts down the creek and eventually another fish will grab it. I mean, when did you ever see a dead minnow laying on the bottom of a creek in clear water?

 I hooked into 2 out of three of the next trout on the Triple Threat. They evidently were more interested in the minnow looking streamer than the bugger. I took my time slowly wading down creek some with casting the Triple Threat.

 

 I had a couple of taps but nothing hard enough to hook one. I waded back up stream and stood ankle deep looking around me. 

 Behind me the forest trees stood tall with their bare branchy limbs almost begging for warmer weather. It may sound silly but sometimes I think trees have feelings also. After a freezing brutal winter I’m sure there is a sign that they want to sprout and leave old man winter behind. Up creek the water branches out on both sides of the small grassy island that I crossed over. Across creek a narrow mountain stream run off gushes down the bank, from under a culvert, and brings colder water into the main stem of the creek.  The far bank-side is steep but there is enough room for a fisherman to stand along the dry bank, or on the big boulders, and cast into the water. Downstream the creek widens into shallower tumbling riffles as far as the eye can see. I’m sure there’s pocket water that trout could be holding in. After my observation I pull out a dark brown cigar from my pocket and lite it.  

 I switched to a Woolly Bugger and decided to cast up creek and let it drift down creek as if I’m nymph fishing. To my surprise the line shoots upstream and I quickly raise the rod down creek and quickly strip back the slack line. I see a flash, below the surface, of a fish turning down creek. I raise the rod directly over my head trying to bring in as much line as possible. The line moves down creek and it isn’t till I feel the resistance on the other end that the trout is still hooked. I play him towards me and net him.

 I continue fishing the bugger casting up creek again and across creek. I catch one more up creek and a couple more down from where I stood before deciding to make my way down creek to another section I’ve caught many trout in years past. 

 On the way wading down creek, fishing riffles, I hook up with a couple of smaller trout on the bugger. Getting to where I want to make a stand and fish I look the water over.            

 Water tumbles over heavy boulders and rock ledges just about clear across stream. The waves settle down and is split by a half submerged boulder just out from me. The water continues on in maybe thigh high water in spots but has good rolling surface current. On the far side, out from the far bank, the water waves up against a big boulder that rims the bank. The water looks deeper there but trying to cast across that far, with hazard branches behind me and cross currents, once my fly line hits the water just is a waste of time trying. Down further from the big boulder there in a better chance of getting an offering to that side of the creek. I focus on what is in front of me and down creek within easier casting distance.

 Casting the Woolly Bugger across creek I let it swing across current and down creek. First swing and a trout grabbed it before it ever swung down creek very far. If was if he wasn’t going to give any other trout an opportunity. After the hook set he shook it’s head a couple of times, tugging as if he couldn’t believe he was hooked. He took off down and across creek continuing tugging. Down a ways he swam mid-stream and I let him calm down, letting him tug a bit, before starting to bring him in. I had the rod extended out towards the middle of the creek and he slowly followed upstream as I brought in line. Once across from me he gave a hard tug and swung around heading back downstream. The top section bowed towards the trout but I only gave him little line which made him turn up creek again. We had a short battle just in front of me before I got him splashing to the net. H was a nice healthy energetic rainbow! 

 I caught one brown trout on the bugger before the trout shut down. It was if my caught trout made such a ruckus, disturbing the water, that they were wary of any kind of streamer passing by. Since I caught a brown trout I decided to cast a wet fly above a small black stone nymph. Three quarters across creek is where I was aiming. There was a good stream of water and I was aiming along the inside crease. I made a cast and my offerings landed pretty much across creek where I wanted. I mended line a little upstream with little slack so my offerings would drop before entering slower water down creek. Wham, a trout grabbed one of my offerings like it was one of my buggers getting away. I reared back and had a trout on the line. It ended up to be a brown trout as I anticipated. I caught one more and missed two before I gave up on that combination. 

 I played around with them for another hour or so offering them an assortment of dries, nymphs and streamers like a peddler on a street corner. 

 

  There was a riser clear across the creek. Occasionally he’d come up around the same area. Trying to get a dry fly to settle down long enough for a take, because of the converging cross currents, I decided to cast a Woolly Bugger. I had to wade up to my thighs, which I know I probably scared some trout, but I needed to get enough back casting room for a long forward cast. As I was false casting I was stripping line out of the spool. I felt the rod load behind me and forward cast the weighted bugger upstream from the riser. I was a little short but let the bugger swing down creek not to disturb the water. I reared back the rod and the bugger surfaced and took to the air. I stripped in line and forward a single haul cast and pointed the tip towards the opposite bank. The bugger followed and dropped, with a plop, near the far bank up from the riser. I straitened the rod a little down creek and anticipated a take anytime during the swing. Wham! He grabbed as if he was waiting for a full meal instead of small snacks. He wasn’t letting any other trout steal HIS meal. I reared back line and raised the rod high getting all line off the water. The line tightened and the rod bowed good into the mid section. The fish gave a hard tug and headed down creek. The spool spit out tensioned line and the top section bounced with each hard tug. Down creek was shallower and I saw the swirls the trout was making fighting the line. He still stayed near the far side so I swung the rod down creek, horizontal with the surface water, to put side pressure on him. He tugged a bit but followed the pull toward the middle of the creek and just about stopped holding in deeper knee deep water. I couldn’t see him yet but I suspected the trout being a brown because he stayed low and didn’t rise to the top. 

 I swung the rod up creek trying to force him upstream. He followed until he got across from me. Feeling the side pressure again he decided to swim down creek again. I didn’t give him much line and let the rod do the resistance more than the reel drag. He turned quickly. We had a short battle of wits after that and I finally got him coming my way. Nearer me he tried for a quick escape like a handcuffed shoplifter but I had a good hold on him and was able to scoop him up in the net. A fine brown trout laid eagerly in the net wanting to get turned loose. 

 Back upstream, where I started, I was trying wet flies and nymphs seeing if any trout were interested. I cast up creek and high sticked the nymph and wet fly and caught a couple of trout. They actually took the nymphs up creek before my offerings even got across from me. 

 Making a cast, into the colder water emptying into the main branch, with a Woolly Bugger, I picked up a frisky rainbow.

 

 Waiting for my cigar to burn down, to give me a reason to leave, I was just trying different offerings like an old time carpetbagger offering different kinds of elixirs to a group of town folks. They weren’t interested. I waded down from the faster water and casting a bugger near the far boulders. I let slack line out so the bugger would drop deeper before swinging down creek. I caught another rainbow but he wasn’t worth a picture. 

 I took the last couple of puffs from my burned down stogie and called it quits for the day. When I got back to the truck it was nearing 5:00. I undressed out of my waders and headed back to my camper without having to punch a clock.

~doubletaper