Last Wednesday

 

Last Wednesday

4/13/22

  I made my last cast with my Woolly Bugger. I watched it swing for the last time before taking two steps towards the shoreline. I was in crotch high water for the past 10 minutes or so about a couple of yards from land. I tried everything from sucker spawn, San Juan worms and streamers. I couldn’t get a strike on anything. I knew this was an easy place, off the road to get to, that every drive by fishermen would stop to give it a try like a busy street corner Newsstand. It’s an easy place for the fish commission to stock a few buckets full of trout also. Good flow of riffles flowing into a deep pocket of water. I was actually surprised no one was fishing it at the time.

  I had caught a nice rainbow early in the morning way up crick. He took a pink sucker spawn. He put on a good fight so, besides streamers, pink sucker spawn was definitely needed to be on the table. 

 

  I still had my right arm extended letting the bugger drag in the water downstream as I was taking careful steps, over the many millstones, towards land. I had weight on the leader so I knew the bugger was well underneath the surface. I felt a hard tug, hard enough my arm went towards the tug before I instinctively jerked back. I was still looking towards the bank when this all took place. I whizzed my head around and gripped the rod tighter. The top section, of the 4 weight, bowed downstream and I followed the fly line to see how far down this trout was. I could tell it was a heavy fish and staying well below the surface. I didn’t think it was one of these acrobatic rainbows I’ve been catching.

  He tugged and headed towards the faster current and I let him have some line but was depending on my knot strength and 4x tippet to hold him at bay most of the time. He scurried up through the wavy current away from where I was standing like trying to hold a beagle, on a leash, that just saw a flushed rabbit. He held tight under the current for a few seconds before heading back down stream just a short bit. My forearm was as stiff as an iron pipe with my elbow and upper arm trying to control the action. I was afraid to back up towards the bank being there were big uneven millstones between us. The trout started upstream again and close enough to the surface I saw a flash of his side minus the red streak. After giving him more side pressure he turned back downstream.

  By now I knew I had a good hook set with him staying hooked through the fast current and head shakes but the longer this went on the more chance something bad could happen. While he held steady I looked in the water behind me and figured, if I wade slow and cautious enough, I could get closer to the bank and force him out of the faster current into the slower deep water I was standing in. As I backed up I held the rod out without giving him any more line. He came towards me than made a deep move that caused the 7’ rod to arc nearly like a horseshoe magnet. I angled the rod upstream and let line slip between my finger and cork grip. With that move I quit wading towards the bank and made a stand. We had a few quick flurries between us and I had him within net distance once be but he took off like a scared cat seeing the animal control net.

  What seemed like an hour passed by was probably only a few minutes being everything was happening so fast at first. I began to bring in line tentatively ready to give him some line if he gets too rowdy. I got him into the slower deep current just in front of me somewhere deep. I took in line with the rod tip near the surface. I got my net ready, in my left hand, and started guiding the trout upstream from me raising the rod wanting him to rise from the deep. When I was able to see him I dropped the rod some putting a little slack in the line. Unaware to him I had the net behind him. He turned and as he tried to swim away he went head first into the net splashing like a frantic, nonswimmer, in chest high water. I had him.

  Carefully I waded to a flattened log along the bank and laid the net down for a picture. He held steady long enough and in short time to get a picture and get him back into the water safely.

 

 Heck, after that I awarded myself with a cigar. I didn’t care if I caught another fish the rest of the afternoon. I was as chipper as a teenager getting his first kiss after the school dance from the pretty girl and on his way home.

 After dinner, in the camper, I settled back and had a cold Scottish Ale from French Broad Brewing Co.

 

 Stockie or not, you still gotta catch'm and still gotta net e'm!

~doubletaper