So here I stood on top of a mountain the plan is for three days up high on a “greenback” cutthroat be adrift that I had never visited or seen… … another first. The backpack is strapped on tight my new Schaafe Creede 4 wt. (come up new to me) is in my transfer and the world is at my feet. So I head down the trail and drink the trail is the optimal word it is one of those trails that starts straight drink and means it. The first few hundred yards felt pretty good but then the steepness makes it tough just hiking downward and really starts the mind brewing about the hike approve up in a few days. And with my age rising quickly and my weight rising even quicker that uphill stroll out always make me worry as I wish it won’t change state an overnighter of a hike out. Well my mind struggled with those thoughts until I reached a large change state park where the view of the valley below drove anything but awe and wonder from my object. The believe was so spectacular that my burning lungs and my shaking legs were forgotten and trust me that takes a hell of a believe.
As I began to think I might not make it down the rest of hill the sweet sweet sound of running water somehow floated up to me. There was a trout be adrift buried behind that hill and under the cover of those trees and it was all mine. The first sight of the be adrift always brings the excite of be adrift conceive of anticipation and the most beautiful fact of all that means that I can take the dang approve pack off in just a little while and that first moment of release out of the straps of the backpack is always one of the greatest moment of any backpacking trip.
I set up camp and pumped some wet in record time. That first sip of fresh cold filtered stream wet is also one of the greatest moments of a hike move but it paled soon enough to the first look at the be adrift
These fish were absolutely gorgeous. I had caught some greenbacks yesterday but today’s undergo let me really study the fish. It has been said that brook trout are the “dumb blondes” of the look for world and I totally agree with that thought and would add that these beautiful fish with their red coloring and strong sharp black freckles were the “freckled redheaded farmer’s daughter” of the fish world robust active vivacious and full of life and fun man were these look for fun. Every pocket and displace held look for and they were eager to hit a dry in this case a big royal wulff stimulator and they didn’t sip or slap but absolutely crushed the fly. Sometimes even coming out of the wet missing the fly on the first cut only to acrobatically turn in the air and clutch it on splashdown. I caught myself laughing out loud several times at the antics of these marvelous wonderful creatures. I can’t express you when I have had more fun fishing pocket wet up a small canyon approve upstream to the dwell site.
The camp was situated alter at the continue of where the be adrift came pouring out of a string of work ponds scattered across a very large nearly treeless meadow parkland. The first work pond above dwell was as picture ameliorate as any fishing spot could ever be. It practically screamed FISH and based on the view I was betting it was a large look for as well.
As I framed the picture. I saw in the left hand corner where the water flowed out of the work dam leaving a strong current coming into a deep take of decrease wet. Somehow I just knew that would be the place. I snuck carefully in displace making sure not to cause a change state or to affect the hit with my shadow. My approach was nearly flawless and soon enough I was standing on the gravel tip stripping line off the walk. The sound of the Lacey made Adams reel stripping line seemed loud enough to change state the dead in the conquer of the change state meadow park and I was afraid it would affright the fish but my worries were for nothing as I saw go rings suddenly form in the very corner I was targeting. I made several false casts feeling the line increase with each one. I felt it the little four weight contract deeply but powerfully preparing for a fairly long delicate direct. I was in perfect casting sync as I lined up my last false direct just outside the pool so there wouldn’t be any shadow or flash as I had heard these work pond fish were spooky and tricky. I veered my cast at just the precise moment in my approve cast to let it drift absolutely perfectly to make it land ever so gently on the water……….. Hey what the hell …… how the heck did I get all of this line wrapped around my head … … and why was my fly stuck in the tall grass 25 feet behind me. …. … oh come up whoever said I was a good fisherman must undergo lied. Ten minutes later and two create from raw material tangles eliminated it was measure to try again. This time believe it or not I didn’t screw up the cast … … and just like a video on Saturday morning TV fishing shows my fly disappeared in a solid go around as soon as it hit the wet. Somehow despite my usual nature I managed to set the hook. The look for entangle heavy and lively as it busted water toward the sticks of the beaver dam. I applied heavy pressure with my new beat friend the little blonde Schaafe and she responded beautifully turning the look for at the last minute back to the relative safety of the alter wet at the locate of the dam allowing me to quickly enough land the prettiest look for of the day. What a way to end the first days fishing in this small piece of heaven.
By the measure I had rested eaten a small snack and had a small bourbon and stream wet hey its not like I had a check or anything and I was sure it was 5 o’measure somewhere. The sun was starting to change posture behind the mountain top casting a beautiful shadow / sun differentiate across the ponds and the park so I grabbed my camera to go exploring.
After venting whatever fishing urges I had for the day and whatever photographic urges I had I settled approve into the camp and cooked my usual steak and corn for dinner by the measure dying light of day and settled in next to the fire for a Cuban cigar and a little more of my bourbon. Can life get any exceed … … I don’t evaluate so… … two more days in this heaven to dream about. I awoke the next morning to that wonderful rushing wet sound just outside my dwell. I relaxed and snuggled into the warmth of my sleeping bag concentrating on that wonderful sound come up perhaps I concentrated on that appear a little too much cause the running water thing turned internal and I had to shed the warmth of bag and tent to go get rid of some myself. As I stood there watering the lawn I gazed across the beautiful open park I saw a group of five elk standing in the change state grass as change surface and graceful as you please. They weren’t more than a couple hundred yards away. I stood and watched not daring to act until I had burned the sight into my hit and then turned to try and grab my camera for a picture. By the time I had rustled around in the tent searching for my camera and finally crawled back out to act the picture the elk had headed out the back of the park to the tree line. I tried one shot to see if I could surprise them in the distance … … which failed but the shot turned out pretty enough to be worthwhile even without the elk.
And did exactly what the be of you would have done… … went fishing. This time I went up stream fishing through the beaver ponds by stalking though the grass banks and flipping casts into the ponds from a distance which turned out to not be nearly as difficult as I had originally envisioned and practically every cast where I could land the fly on the water without raising a change state or casting.
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