Same Time Next Year Day 2

 

Same Time Next Year (Day 2)

3/02/22

 It was hard for me to not go back to the Davidson River, in North Carolina, for another go at the rising trout. No matter how technical I had to be with trying to fool these picky, wary trout with a dry fly, I wanted more. It’s not very often I find rising trout in Pennsylvania in early March so I woke up, had breakfast and headed to the river a little earlier than I did on Monday.

  The weather was to be warm and when I got to the river it felt like it was already in the 50’s. The morning was bright with the sun still rising behind the tall narrow leafless trees upon the mountain side. I parked in the same spot as I did on Monday, got my gear on and walked down the same path to meet those same trout. I was excited. Though it took some time to fool a few trout a couple of days ago with an assortment of dry fly imitations, I felt I wouldn’t need to go through as many patterns to get them to rise this time.

  I started fishing nymphs from the riffling wavy water fishing my way down to were I fished over the rising trout on Monday. I just couldn’t wait to get to the spot even though I didn’t see any risers just yet. Within casting distance I stopped and searched for any rises in the shadows of the hillside trees.

  Water flowed calmly and undisturbed along the far bank, under olive laurel shrubs and down into the next riffles. The sound of the riffling water flowing over exposed boulders was all to be heard like spigot water splashing over dirty dishes in a stainless steel sink in a quiet morning kitchen. The water appeared to drop some but was still as clear as spilled ginger ale on a brown counter top. There were already tiny minuscule midges about almost as if floating in the air like the fuzzy dandelion seeds in a soft swirling wind. I didn’t want to disturb the water with nymphs or throw a big old Woolly Bugger to let the trout know I was back. I figured I gave them a day of rest yesterday and hoping they weren’t too wary this morning.

  I stood there, almost motionless, not wanting to attract attention and not wanting to disturb the water. I tied on a #18 CDC BWO trying to wait patiently but it didn’t take long for my patience to run out and cast though I hadn’t seen a rise. For the third time I watched the visible CDC wing drift downstream into their feeding zone. I watched a trout rise up and inspect my dry. I anticipated the take like watching a mouse sniff the peanut butter on the lever of a mouse trap. The curious trout turned away and disappeared knowing as if something wasn’t right or maybe he didn’t like my breakfast offering. At least I knew one was interested. When I saw a rise down stream I was more hopeful. I was tossing the CDC BWO out in no specific one spot trying to get a rise. I wasn’t going to give up! During one drift I noticed a swirl and my dry disappeared. I quickly wristed the rod back. The line tightened and my first trout of the morning was fighting like a scared rabbit caught in a snare trap. I netted a fine looking rainbow. ‘One down and more to show’ I thought.

 

  I continued to try and get one to rise to my BWO. It didn’t take long that I started to see a few small BWO drifting or fluttering about. I heard a splash upstream and turned in time to see the expanding rings of the swirl upon the slow moving midstream current. I made a back cast over my left shoulder and daintily let the BWO imitation sail through the air towards the swirl. It fell softly upon the water and wasn’t there for more than a second or two when a trout rose and snatched it up like the last kid, running through the kitchen, snatching a warm chocolate chip cookie on the wax paper. Another nice rainbow entered my net.

 

 I noticed there were more risers more often upstream from where I was standing especially along the far bank. I tossed the BWO out a few more times without a strike. Downstream, just before the riffling water, I saw a couple more rises. I waded down within casting range. A trout was rising quite often to anything that looked like a meal on the surface I suppose. Maybe there were a couple trout competing for the few tid bits that showed up in their path. I made a long cast down towards them with a #18 Adams. A fish grabbed it as soon as it hit the surface water. I yanked the rod back in surprise. I could tell it wasn’t very big as it scurried to and fro jiggling the line and rod tip. The little fellow stayed hooked all the way to my net. I wet my hand before grasping it and it laid easy in my palm without a fuss. I unhooked it from the #18 hook and laid my hand on the surface water. As soon as it felt water beneath its belly it slipped out of my palm and scurried back into the water depths. 

 

 I fished dry flies for almost an hour after that but couldn’t get any trout to commit. I knotted on a Woolly Bugger and headed downstream and fished the riffles. I hooked a couple of frisky trout but couldn’t land either of them. I nymph fished down a little further hooking one small trout. I stood aside a deep run mid stream in front of me. I hooked one trout before I saw my first, than second rise across stream just this side of the cliff side bank. I knotted on a parachute Adams and took more line off my reel. I made a cast out towards the far bank. There was a slight breeze as I saw my dry flutter away from where I wanted it to land. I had to compensate for the slight breeze. It took a few more casts but I had it figured out. One cast landed my Adams on the surface and I watched it drift, drag free, helplessly out from the bank. I saw a nose break the surface and sip the Adams like sipping an oyster cracker from a big spoon of hot soup. I yanked the rod back and the lined tightened. The trout swam into the midstream current and used it to its advantage. As he fought the rod arced and I felt every tug and pull within my grip around the cork handle. He gave me a good battle but I won out and got it to the net.

  There wasn’t much going on but I continued to try to make another rise.

  In the meantime a fellow showed up downstream and he also was fishing dry flies. We both caught a couple more before he headed upstream. After a while I started nymph fishing again and casting Woolly Buggers. By now the sun was in full view and shining down like a hot afternoon sun on a crowded beach. The water sparkled like bubbles in a freshly poured glass of that ginger ale. I figured I had my fun for the day and headed for my truck.

  As I pulled away, from where I was parked, I glanced down at the Davidson and thought ‘Same time next year!’

 ~doubletaper