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