Small stream fly fishing practically forces you to experience the sport in its deconstructed state; modulus, marketing and industry hype simply fade away, and what’s left are wary trout, precise casts, damned little margin for error, and a fly fisherman who’s hunting instead of mining.

fly fishing a small spring creek
Sun, rain and dramatic skies were on tap — as were smaller waters.

The silver lining, of course, is that while small stream trout may be little and wary, they’re not particularly picky.

They flee at the sight of a looming biped waving a stick, yet still eat a #16 Adams wired to 4x when the water’s covered with #20 PMDs.

smallbrownie
A small-stream Brown trout; our biggest might have stretched to 12″.

Steve Bertrand and I kicked around four different stretches of the same small stream on Friday afternoon, and while Steve classified it under the work-related heading of “intelligence gathering,” he eventually got into the spirit of the exercise as much as I did.

In fact, he borrowed my 8′ 5wt Steffen glass rod, reasoning the sometimes blustery wind demanded a 5wt but that smaller trout showed best on a relatively pliable rod.

smallrods
A pair of small-stream 5wts: Diamondglass & Steffen 8′ glass rods.

The fishing itself required stealth (witness today’s sore knees) and some fast reaction times, and with my small-stream reflexes dulled a little by winter, I didn’t exactly distinguish myself.

Over the course of the day, I had better than two dozen grabs, but landed less than a dozen fish.

Most were in the 7″-10″ range, though my biggest topped 11″, and did the hard work of landing himself; he jumped at the sting of the hook, and ended up on the grass at my feet.

I fished (with little apparent difference between them) a #16 Red Humpy, a #14 Royal Coachman, and a #16 Adams.

smallstream
You can’t step across it, but a long-jumper could clear it.

The Brown trout were typical small-stream browns; feisty and aggressive, yet they’d run when you walked right up to the pools instead of sneaking there on your knees.

The weather — cold and blowing hard at home — was considerably warmer and calmer at the stream (absolute proof you should always go fishing).

Periods of rain and wind alternated with sun and calm, and the fish didn’t care much either way, though when the wind blew a cast into the grass on the bank, the fly fishermen sure did.

smallrain
It rained on and off. Fortunately, fly fishermen aren’t made of Alka-Seltzer.

It’s tempting to describe a day on a small stream in terms of its restorative powers, but in truth, it’s just plain fun with a fly rod — fly fishing stripped of all the things we’ve added, but maybe shouldn’t.

See you on the (small) water, Tom Chandler.

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