Originally, tonight's trip wasn't looking to be a high-energy affair; I was happy enough to hit the river, bag a couple of small rainbows, shoot a few nature pictures, and then post it for all the Undergrounders to see.

Still, it's clear that expectation is the lever the universe uses to make us look like fools - and I'm not one to confuse hard-earned karam with blind luck - but I think my time spent organizing community-benefitting bike rides paid off in a big, big way.


The last fish of the evening - a 19" brown trout. The first was a 17" brown. And there were plenty in between...


I arrived my favorite dry fly water only to find #18 BWOs fluttering around, and few lazy rises dimpling the smooth, technical run. So ok, it's not as if huge mental feats were required; I tied on a BWO quill parachute, and promptly caught a 17" brown trout.

Woo-hoo! Hooking a big fish early truly sets you free.

In one sense, an early big fish is the winning lottery ticket of the fishing world; if you walked away right then, the night would remain a success. If you keep fishing, you do so with a total absence of pressure - the fly fishing "state of grace" if ever there was one.

So I kept fishing. And caught a 13" brown trout. And then a 14" brown, marveling at the strangness of it all. Browns are rare on the Upper Sac, and if it's one thing I love about fly fishing, it's the parade of rare, enigmatic moments.

"How much weirder could it get" I asked myself. (Hint: the correct answer was "lots.")

My next fish calmly ate a #16 Quigley BWO, and when it turned away with the fly, I noticed a funny flash in the water. What the hell? Got him close, got his head up, stuck out the net, and.... there he was... a 13" brook trout staring back at me. Huh?


Brookies on the Upper Sac? The batteries on the camera were panting, but I had enough juice left for one flash shot every minute or so. Here's proof...

A brookie?
The last thing I expected on the Upper Sac was a Grand Slam (Brown, Bow Brookie in one day). That's something I happily claimed in Tennessee, but never - in my wildest thoughts - expected on the Upper Sac. Yet there it was, staring up from my net. A brook trout.

OK, so I'd arrived on the Upper Sac in the midst of species diversity night - and the species were looking pretty good on the size front too. The BWO hatch remained steady, and the final body count came to five brown trout, one brookie, a half-dozen rainbows (including a pair in the 14"-15" range), and one very pumped, very puzzled fly fisher.


It's family portrait night on the Upper Sac. Shame the camera batteries were wheezing like the economy - the pictures are a bit on the dark side.

I'm tempted to say it was like shooting fish in a barrel, but that's only true if the barrel was a good 40' roll cast (with upstream mend) away, and the water in the barrel featured some pretty wicked, drift-eating currents.

Still, it was an evening of fishing that I would have said was once in a lifetime (I'm sure others have scored a triple play on the Upper Sac, but I haven't actually ever heard of one). At first blush, it feels incredibly cool, but I'm already growing concerned. How many "once in a lifetime nights" do you get on one river?

Starting tomorrow evening, I'm determined to find out. If I felt let down every time the river didn't fish as well as the it did on my best night, I'd be a pretty unhappy fly fisher. I can say - with some certainty - that I'm not. See you in the act of embracing diversity, Tom Chandler.