This story is posted to our blog, the link is in our signature space below. Since this story is short and only a narrative, I will post it here also. We hope you enjoy flowing along behind us on this one day adventure.
The summer heat wave has descended on us. We woke yesterday morning, Friday, and I surprised the Lady with, "Let's go fly fishing today." Thigh deep in a cold mountain stream, fly rod in hand, was an irresistible notion. And why not? A 30 minute drive from home and a two mile hike in put me on new water, water always on my list, patiently waiting its turn. And, we knew the trailhead area would be insanely packed on the coming weekend, especially a hot weekend with the crazy masses flocking to any kind of water. This would be only at the trailhead, the two mile hike pretty much eliminates others getting into our spot.
This water is the mountain stream of your dreams. Old growth sugar pines line the bank, their earring like cones dangling from the tips of long branches shading the water. I expected the Lady would make a nest along the river and read and nap and close her eyes and listen to the sounds. She did not. She waded behind me enjoying the hunt, watching the study of insects and trout lies and making the cast. She only had to climb two alders to retrieve the snagged dry fly from an errant backcast. She loves to see the rise of a trout and the take. The small rainbows danced and pranced across the water before coming to hand for their careful release. The Lady insists on the careful release. Her enthusiasm more than matched mine.
I have never seen another angler on this stretch of water. I fly fished three hours and covered maybe 400 yards of water. I worked on my technique on the quiet long runs where a gentle presentation was key. The rhythm was there. I can still hear the sound of flowing cold water in my mind and feel the pulsing cold on my legs.
There is no better exercise for balance and strength than wading in a mountain stream, climbing over logs and rocks, watching each foot placement, fighting the current, staying low in the shadows, making a cast. The Lady got extra points for tree climbing. I used one fly, a well dressed size 18 caddis dry. I still have it, a bit torn up but now a treasure to stir up memories.
The day was perfect, the only mar the fact we forgot and left the camera on the counter at home when we left.
And where is this stream? Locked properly away with so many other secrets.
The summer heat wave has descended on us. We woke yesterday morning, Friday, and I surprised the Lady with, "Let's go fly fishing today." Thigh deep in a cold mountain stream, fly rod in hand, was an irresistible notion. And why not? A 30 minute drive from home and a two mile hike in put me on new water, water always on my list, patiently waiting its turn. And, we knew the trailhead area would be insanely packed on the coming weekend, especially a hot weekend with the crazy masses flocking to any kind of water. This would be only at the trailhead, the two mile hike pretty much eliminates others getting into our spot.
This water is the mountain stream of your dreams. Old growth sugar pines line the bank, their earring like cones dangling from the tips of long branches shading the water. I expected the Lady would make a nest along the river and read and nap and close her eyes and listen to the sounds. She did not. She waded behind me enjoying the hunt, watching the study of insects and trout lies and making the cast. She only had to climb two alders to retrieve the snagged dry fly from an errant backcast. She loves to see the rise of a trout and the take. The small rainbows danced and pranced across the water before coming to hand for their careful release. The Lady insists on the careful release. Her enthusiasm more than matched mine.
I have never seen another angler on this stretch of water. I fly fished three hours and covered maybe 400 yards of water. I worked on my technique on the quiet long runs where a gentle presentation was key. The rhythm was there. I can still hear the sound of flowing cold water in my mind and feel the pulsing cold on my legs.
There is no better exercise for balance and strength than wading in a mountain stream, climbing over logs and rocks, watching each foot placement, fighting the current, staying low in the shadows, making a cast. The Lady got extra points for tree climbing. I used one fly, a well dressed size 18 caddis dry. I still have it, a bit torn up but now a treasure to stir up memories.
The day was perfect, the only mar the fact we forgot and left the camera on the counter at home when we left.
And where is this stream? Locked properly away with so many other secrets.
