Flyfisherman are gamblers. They play the odds in hopes of pay-dirt. They are chasing some kind of fictitious creature with all the determination they can muster.
Every time I throw my gear in the car (who am I kidding, I leave it in there all the time) I set out in hopes of that perfect evening. It’s been a while since I’ve had that kind of trip out.
Last week, I got a text from my buddy Brandyn to hit a stretch I have fished down, but never worked my way up. Two hours of perfection ensued. 15 grabs, 12 fish, 8 over 17″ and my first brown over 20″. Unicorn captured.
Big stone in fast water was the ticket. Pocket water is neglected by some, but I’m a firm believer you can find what you’re looking for there on occasion. Inspired by Hank Patterson, I made sure to yell something obnoxious upstream when I hooked something decent, to let Brandyn know the weather. Brandyn did well too. Favorite quote of the evening:
“I’d tell you where the big fish are but you seem to be doing fine. Thanks for catching and releasing.“
-homeowner with property backing up to the river