It’s when I was knee-walking my way closer to the edge of the meadow stream that I literally stumbled across a pair of truths.
First, I formerly owned (and lost) knee pads for just this sort of thing, and by tomorrow morning, I was probably going to wish I’d bought another pair. (To the tune of several aspirin, this prediction came sadly true.)
And second, there is a kind of meadow flower that – after it blooms and the seed pod dries – sounds a lot like a rattlesnake when your fly line brushes against it.
The first realization was of the slow-dawning kind, but the second landed a little harder; when you’re on your hands and knees and think you hear a rattlesnake 1.5 feet to your left, the thought process flows quickly, as does the urge to simultaneously levitate and soil yourself.
Steve Bertrand fly fishes the meadow stretch of a small stream
Later, I demonstrated the rattlesnake doppler plant to Steve Bertrand, who couldn’t see the seed pod from his location, and you could tell he didn’t entirely buy my explanation until I physically pointed out the plant.
The whole episode reinforces what I’m starting to believe about myself (at least at the start of every new fly fishing season); I’m not a slow learner as much as a forgetful one.
We didn't "slaughter 'em" though we did catch a lot. And it was fun.
I seems my capacity for re-learning things is only outstripped by my ability to forget them, and I suppose the glass-half-full view is that every day offers people like me a fresh, new perspective on the world.
At least that’s what I’m going with for now.
Fish on. (Click image for a 1440 x 900 wallpaper version)
Fly fishing one of the freestone sections of the stream
The Fly Fishing
Steve Bertrand and I abandoned our adult responsibilities (he’s a fishing guide, so he has damned few of those), and fished a small stream that alternately runs through tiny canyons and grassy meadows, figuring the water flows there would be better than in those on the bigger rivers.
We were right, but in truth, that’s simply sophistry. I wanted to fly fish a small stream, and this one has all the goodies; brown trout, freestone sections, meadow sections, and yes, it’s not exactly what you’d call a “well known sporting destination.”
If this doesn't give you goose bumps, you may be dead.
That may be due to the smallish size of the trout (our biggest went 11″), but more likely, it’s just a small stream in a remote stretch of the county, and it takes a little too long to get there given the size of the fish. At least that’s how most people seem to feel about it.
Because this was all about fun and not efficiency, I fished the same 8′ 5wt Phillipson Peerless bamboo fly rod I used on the tiny Montana Cutthroat meadow stream of a year ago, and while most of the world would have trotted out a 2 or 3 weight for this kind of work, I’m happier with a softish 4 or 5wt, reasoning that a little insurance in the big wind/big fly department is a good thing.
Plus, they’re just more fun to cast.
You gotta love the reddish amber color of the Phillipsons
In the end, we more or less caught trout in all the places you’d expect we would, and though I wouldn’t say the trout were technical (they weren’t), they are damned spooky, and demanded a little stealth on their approach.
They’re wild things after all, and it’s in their best interest not to be seen. By contrast, most of humanity’s doing stranger and stranger things in a bid to be noticed, and of the two, the trout seem to make more sense.
Hey, I get to catch one (and only seconds after painfully lurching to my feet) (photo: Steve Bertrand)
Steve started fishing a dry and dropper, but quickly relented on the dropper part due to snags and the realization that I was getting bit fairly often on a small stimulator.
Later – on the meadow section – we went with a flying ant, which was as reliable as it always is on these waters. (How many do you have in your box?)
The red spots on some brown trout look so much brighter than they'd possibly need to be.
Almost everything we caught was a brown trout (even in the freestone stretches), and all had that undeniably lumpy (orange peelish) brown trout feel to them.
Naturally, when the light got right, Steve Bertrand and I went to a specific spot on the meadow with the intention of catching and photographing a nicer brown trout, so Bertrand promptly caught two rainbows, and I was forced to fire him on the spot.
Rainbows occupying the slower water of a brown trout stream? Stop the madness!
What photographer wants to work with talent who can’t catch trout (the right trout) on command?
Later – when the light got even better and we both caught nice, red-dotted brown trout – I forgave him his clumsiness.
Apparently I’m the fickle artist type.
I’m in the middle of a couple big weeks, yet I’d consider taking a human life to get back out to that stream (there are two more sections we didn’t even see). Still, with a Web site & email program to launch for a client and two more online marketing boot camp classes to teach, any fishing will probably take place closer to home.
See you on a small stream, Tom Chandler.
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