aaronj
Steelhead
On Thursday I chose to take the day off and begin to clear my head of the election madness by fishing a new (for me) nearby lake, down in the Smokey Point area. The weather was near-perfect as I broke the mirrorsurface and began to kick away from the launch.
Within two minutes a small but feisty Rainbow hit my soft-hackle bugger and entertained me for a bit with some aerial acrobatics before self-releasing. Further along the north shore I found the majority of willing participants in my tug-of-war game to be holding near bottom, around twenty feet down. Throughout the morning and early afternoon, we traded victories. Most were 14 to 16 inches, and all vigorous competitors; relentless in their struggle for freedom.
Later in the afternoon rise-rings began to appear toward the center of the lake, and I redirected my focus accordingly. For the next half hour, it was difficult to cast without a hit or connection as the hungry trout could care less that my fly was nowhere near "matching the hatch."
Eventually the bite waned and I slowly trolled back to the launch, landing a few more on the way. I lost count, but the numbers were something like 12 fish to hand, 6 long-distance releases, and another half-dozen hits. Enough to at least temporarily distract me from the political events of the week...
Happiness is a tight line.
Within two minutes a small but feisty Rainbow hit my soft-hackle bugger and entertained me for a bit with some aerial acrobatics before self-releasing. Further along the north shore I found the majority of willing participants in my tug-of-war game to be holding near bottom, around twenty feet down. Throughout the morning and early afternoon, we traded victories. Most were 14 to 16 inches, and all vigorous competitors; relentless in their struggle for freedom.
Later in the afternoon rise-rings began to appear toward the center of the lake, and I redirected my focus accordingly. For the next half hour, it was difficult to cast without a hit or connection as the hungry trout could care less that my fly was nowhere near "matching the hatch."
Eventually the bite waned and I slowly trolled back to the launch, landing a few more on the way. I lost count, but the numbers were something like 12 fish to hand, 6 long-distance releases, and another half-dozen hits. Enough to at least temporarily distract me from the political events of the week...
Happiness is a tight line.
...it occurs to me there may be a correlation between my succes rate and my habit of eating a Landjaeger before I tie on a new fly 
