White Belly Rainbows
4/23/24
“I was picking off white belly stocked rainbows like swatting pesky flies on the window sill!”
I woke up early but it was only 30 degrees outside so i decided to make breakfast to pass the time till it got warmer. Well, the wait after breakfast didn't last too long cause i was anxious to hit the creek after trout. being the water has been high the last couple of weeks i figured the trout should be scattered. I dressed warm, put on my chest waders and boots outside my camper and walked down to the creek. I think it may of reached 42-42 degrees y then but i didn't care.
I started wading out casting a Woolly Bugger. Maybe it was the third cast and my first trout was on the line scurrying about. The second trout came pretty quick in the same way. Both trout wee only about 6" at most. I think the Fish Commission should be ashamed stocking trout so small. Still fishing with the bugger, out and about, I was picking off white ell rainbows like swatting pesky flies off a window sill!
After about the 9th trout I hooked the bugger to the rod hook keeper. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a CAO stogie, bit the butt end and lit it up. So what it was only 900 in the morning? A morning stogie never hurt anyone I know of. i took a puff and for a moment looked at my surroundings.
White translucent clouds streaked above beneath the robin egg blue sky. The cliff, across the creek, leaked water and tumbled down the rocky shelves and emptied into the creek with audible splashing. Large bare trees limbs branched over the creek banks and small twigs, looking like an old witches fingers, extended off of scraggly branches as if from weary fragile arms. Young trees could be seen already blooming looking like white Jujubes dangling from their thin branches. I took another puff of the cigar and watched the smoke waver away with the slight breeze. The sun wasn't quite over the hillside tree tops but its rays reflected off the clouds and sparkled the subtle wavy surface current. The water was cold as if from a snow melt.
I made long casts across stream and watch my line drift in an arc with the current. A sharp pulling tug and I rear back setting the hook. A trout shoots up creek in a heap as the rod tip points towards the victim. He scurries about as I bring him to the net.
It appears the under current is a lot stronger than what the surface looks. Every trout seams to be a lot bigger fighting them against the current.Sure I miss one now and then but I don't hit every fly on the first swing either.
As the wind picks up, gusts swoosh upstream causing all kinds of mishaps while my lines in the air. Wind knots appear and sometimes the bugger somehow gets itself wrapped up around the leader and tippet looking like a wasps caught in a thick spider web. I'll take my time unwinding things or if too bad just cut it off and tie on new tippet.
Come noon the bites aren't as frequent but I continue wading down creek casting and will get surprised by a lonesome trout away from his buds.
The last few were so hungry they gulped the bugger and I had to do a little maneuvering unhooking the bugger from the inside of their mouths.
I took a short break around 2 at the camper before walking up creek to a new section of water. I lit my last cigar on the bank before wading into the thigh high water.
My third cast, with a yellow bugger, yielded a quick strike and healthy rainbow came to the net. It would take another 10 minutes or so for my next strike.
The wind was now forceful and some of those feeble ranches were now falling into the water and tumbling downstream on the surface. Casting became too cumbersome and at times useless so I waded out and called it a day.
It was near 430 when I got back to the camper. I was tired and figured I'd take a shoet nap before dinner.
And that's my White Belly Stockie story!
~doubletaper
