Slinging in the Rain: BWOs, Bumbling Fish Guy, and Beauty.

Another rainy day, and after yesterday’s #22 BWO shock therapy, I’d love to report that I showed up back at the river wholly prepared to catch the “hound” out of ‘em, but the truth is a little less pretty.

But first, a rainy moment of zen:

The Upper Sacramento River. What a dump.

With the rain coming down lightly and steadily (that’s BWO weather if ever anyone described it in print), I struggled through a trying morning, threw on the cold weather gear, and headed downriver.

The forces of evil conspired to keep me working later than I wanted, so I didn’t hit the water until 1:00. which is when the bad decisions began.

With the skies leaden, the rain drizzling, and the water picking up a teensy bit of color, I assumed 6x tippet would do the job - even though it was marginal yesterday. Glug glug.

I could detail the next 45 minutes in graphic, whiny detail, but let’s just suggest I tried a *lot* of flies and only hooked up with two fish, both of whom escaped.

Stellar? Not.

Chandler Makes a Move

Still, I finally got the drift (heheh). I changed to 7x tippet, switched to the least bushy #22 BWO I had (a simple quill body with hackle collar, no wings), and started catching fish.

Ha! Damnit, I’m slow, but I’m steady.

Four fish later, the fly disappeared without a swirl, the rod lifted without a thought, and the water exploded without delay. Holy sizzler, Batman.

This is a wide-angle view of a broad-shouldered, into-the-backing, 19″ Upper Sac bow.

It’s been a while since I saw backing (and that one was foul hooked), but I saw it pretty quickly today.

I’d love to give you the Hemmingway rundown on the extreme manliness of the angler (in tiny, adjective-free sentences), but I basically wore him down, did a two-step when he made a last ditch dash between my legs, and netted him.

And just so there won’t be a repeat of the irritating “no way that fish is XX inches” e-mails, I measured him. (Twice, you bastards.)

It Ain’t Over ’til It’s… OK, it’s Over

After the big fish was released, the hatch had largely dried up. One more smaller fish got fooled, and then I waded back to the Bronco Fishmobile in the rain.

A little fish tale.

Tiny Flies Needed. Few Found.

The bugs are definitely #22s, something in short supply in the Underground’s fly box. Tomorrow the forecast is a little clearer, but we’re still talking about what could be stellar BWO weather, and if the stars align, I could be out there again, this time armed with 7x tippet and - hopefully - a couple of freshly tied #22 dries (donations accepted).

The big fish was thrilling, the bumbling start was frustrating, and the grey, drippy weather was strangely exhilarating.

The colors saturate in the wet weather and the sounds deaden, and what’s left is purely the essence of the place and the moment.

I’d go back again even if the fish were small.

[tags]rainbow trout, BWO, blue winged olive, fiberglass fly rod, Upper Sac, Upper Sacramento River[/tags]