River Trout
10/05/2023
It was a beautiful morning outside the camper in the Allegheny National Forest. The pale blue sky gave way to steaks of red. It was if, by a painters stroke, brushed a crimson hue across the canvas. The Autumn colors of tree leaves were turning.
Colorful branchy leaves lined the river bank like colorful street streamers for a parade. The weakest leaves lay upon the stony bank like discarded confetti.
Squirrel hunting wasn’t fruitful at all. The squirrels must have stayed in their hollowed out trees. It was still pleasant to be out sitting among the colorful forest. It was quiet and peaceful. A breeze would blow across the tree tops now and then and lifeless crisp leaves would fall from their branches, slipping off others along their downfall, causing the slightest noise like stepping on a dropped potato chip. Acorns fell from the oaks knocking on every limb they would hit on their way to earth and land with a thud. Some would bounce off of moss covered boulders, that were scattered around me, like pin balls off of bumpers. Chipmunks hurried along, stopping briefly, with mouths full. Some being chased by others causing a noisy ruffle as they scampered about.
Fishing was slow but yielded a few trout. By the time I got out to fish, around noon, the sun was up full ablaze like an Arizona sun over an Arizona desert. It wasn’t long before I felt the sweat on my forehead under my wide brim straw hat. Every so often a welcomed warm breeze blew through me slightly cooling me from the hot sun rays.
I was geared up, with my 6 weight fly rod, ready to hook into some river smallmouth bass. I waded down to the riffling water casting aimlessly with a Woolly Bugger. The water, ¾ the way across, looked somewhat deeper and I made a long cast. I thought I snagged a rock, just after it fell, as the fly line barely arced with the cross current. I twitched the rod back high trying to free the hook when it violently yanked back. The fish stayed low fighting it’s way against me as I played it towards me. It was to frisky to be a smallmouth and when I netted it I was right. A nice brown trout laid in my net.
It was no doubt a stocked trout, for lack of color, from years back that found its way to the river from the stocked mountain creeks. By its sandstone color belly I’m sure it has lived in the river for sometime!
Casting out freely, as I slowly waded the riffles, I caught another. It fought just like the other so I knew it wasn’t a smallmouth either. It was almost identical to the first brown trout I caught and just as frisky.
For the next hour or so I continued casting streamers and poppers without any noticeable strikes as I headed downriver. At times I would aim for drifting leaves testing my accuracy. If it wasn’t for the stogie I held between my teeth it wouldn’t have been as enjoyable.
I waded back up to the truck but it was too early to quit. I drove downriver to test my fishing skills in another area I haven’t fished for some time. I caught more trout than bass there, but it wasn’t that far from the parking area and I wasn’t planning on wading downriver anyway.
Knee deep I was casting a Woolly Bugger, while smoking a cigar, up into the wavy white water caused by a row of rocks and boulders strewn the width of the river. I thought I had one bump upstream but maybe it was just my imagination. I made short to long casts across river letting the bugger swing in an arc downriver for some time without a strike. For the heck of it I decided to knot on a nymph. Casting up into the wavy current, with the rod extended out following the leader. All of a sudden the leader curved up into the riffles. It could have been a snag but I lifted the rod for a hook set. Sure enough the line straightened and a frisky brown trout scurried about all the way to the net. Not a big one by any means but a trout no less.
Another ½ hour trying to hook another was just time ticking away. I headed back to the truck under the hot sun thinking about a frozen margarita waiting for me back at the camper.
I could have driven and fished for freshly stocked trout in a delayed harvest area not too far away. I might have caught some of them trout and even more than I did in the river but I’m sure it wouldn’t have been as pleasant.
~doubletaper
