Casting in the Canyon

Drove out to CA with Brandyn Rayda a fishing buddy I actually went to high-school with.  He knew of a stretch that he was fond of below some trophy water, so we hiked in.  The weather was changing every 15 minutes.  I think I took off my hood and put it back on no less than 10 times.

Brandyn was eager to get to the "good water", but on the hike up I saw a few pockets that looked pretty fishy.  I let him go on ahead, and nymphed the biggest, ugliest stonefly in my box (in lieu of split-shot) and a beer-head baetis dropper through those seams and got grabs over and over.  This was a sign of things to come.

I never changed my rig all day, because it produced all day.  All of the fish I hooked were over 18" and lost two aggressive bows over 21".  Brandyn was switching between nymphing and streamers and staying just as busy.  We covered a good stretch of water and there were fish in all the usual places, behind big rocks, under over-hanging limbs, and any place the water slowed.  It was the day you imagine in your head when reading a trout book before bed.

Almost every time I looked downstream/upstream, I saw Brandyn negotiating himself downstream with his rod-tip bent over.  When you're catching fish and your buddy is too, that's a good day on the river.  Just when you're ready to leave her, the Truckee gives you a peck on the cheek.