Since early July I’ve been on the water a few hours here and there but not with a fly rod. It’s been about 60 days since I fished for me. When you go on droughts like I do you get a bit anxious and rowdy when the next opportunity rolls around. A lot rides on that first cast…that first take…and that first fish.
The anticipation is almost unbearable. It isn’t until you step out of the boat, wade into the water, and make that first cast that you settle down and remember why there isn’t anything else you would rather do than this.
This past week I finally was able to get back at it. The trip was in the works for a year or so. Fished with Savoy last year about this time. Thought we might try it again this year. I was able to work in two full days…sun up to sun down.
Rolled into camp late Friday night and eased into the program. With cold beer in hand and a camp fire, Savoy and I got caught up and prepped gear for the next day.
By the looks of the campground it was obvious there was going to be a bit of traffic on the water. It’s been like that for years now. I’m not quite sure how the river handles it but it does with great fortitude and determination. Fortunately there is a lot of water to cover and not everyone has patience enough to work a run properly. Leaves enough fish for the rest of us willing to take it to the next level. The fish are usually better all around.
For two days straight Savoy and I worked the runs, seams, ledges, dropoffs, and side channels. We were lucky enough to pull more than our fair share of better than average fish. Much different game than last year. This go around it was more of a sight thing. Great feeling to spot one, match the hatch, and connect. I caught myself several times holding my breathe as I anticipated the take.
60 days is a long time between casts.