My son was at a camp this past week. Parent's night was Friday night. On the way to the camp I had a chance to stop for just a few minutes and throw a fly. The last time I was at the river it was mud and ragging. yesterday, it was low, clear and beautiful. I hopped around on a few rocks and got in casting position. I knew the trout would be lined up on the far bank in the overhanging willows. After several good drifts and no rises, I tucked a decent cast on the very edge of the hanging limbs and nailed a decent brown trout. I feared that he would take me into the willows so I tried to horse him out. A couple of lively and quick jumps sent butter-yellow flashes downstream. I pulled to hard and fast and my fly came back toward me like it was shot from a sling.
I made several more casts into nice water and picked up a couple of small browns. The small browns were on the fly as soon as it hit the water. They were inhaling it. Instead of the corner of the mouth hookup, these little trout had the fly down in their mouths. I had to use care and hemostats to remove the fly and release the fish.
It felt good to stop for a few minutes and look at the river, cast and catch a couple of trout. When the water is clear, the color of the river rock is so stunning. The sky was perfect blue. The stream side brush alive with green. The mountainside cliffs gray, white and pink. Deep conifer stands looked purple in the side canyons.
I'm glad I left a little early on my way to my son's camp. Mixing the beauty of the river with the beauty of spending the evening with my son made for a very enjoyable time. In a few days he will leave for a couple of years. I will have him in my heart and thoughts as I fish this section of river for the next two seasons.