Found her in the back of big deep run that gets constant pressure. This is one of those fish that you feel good about, not because you out-smarted the fish, but because you probably out-smarted the last 20 guys that fished that run. I'm usually one of the 20.
Brandon Balkenbush with a beast.
Found 3 great fish stacked on top of each other. Summer does weird things to this territorial animal.
Over.
Under.
The G6 doesn't discriminate...she loves fish of all colors. Both the bow and brown above are evidence. Thanks Gilligan.
As obnoxious as it is, you have to listen to this song while reading this post. Trust me. Context.
After a brief family trip to the Bay Area, the trip home gave me an excuse to stop in Mountain Hardware and Sports in Truckee, CA. After some
tinkering around the internets this shop seems to be the only place you can get some
flies I have been trying to acquire...namely some Skipper Stones and a little fella called the G6. Would be nice if someone picked them up for distribution in town. Both of these are crafted by the Truckee's finest guide, Mr. Matt "Gilligan" Koles
One
iPhone function I have been using lately is dropping a rendezvous pin
on the map and sending it to a fishing buddy. This saves lots of
obscure descriptions, like "the seventh dead-looking tree on the right"
or "after the tire pile, before the abandoned shanty". After joining up
with a friend, I jumped in downstream and tried out my new flies.
After
a slow start, something big and heavy took off downstream towards the
casinos. He didn't slow down at all with a little thumb drag, but in
the instant it took me to look down to adjust my footing, he was gone.
After 30+ casts through the same run, I tipped my hat and blessed his
children's children. Losing a big one brings out all of my worst
personality traits. It feels like loose ends. I hate loose ends.
After
moving upstream, the wind kicked up and my dropper rig was quickly
becoming more trouble than strategic. I trimmed the G6 off, and threw
the skipper alone across some fast, deep water. Almost immediately, a
nice rainbow greeted the fly at the surface, and then thrashed around a
bit before spitting the hook. After 30+ casts through the same run, he
returned for a second look. Pretty uncommon. The
moment when you see a dark shape rise from the blurry stones below the
surface and follow your fly for a few yards is priceless. I think
that's where "the tug is my drug" comes from.
After
realizing I was happier to see him than he was me, I got him
re-oxygenated and he took off as fast as he hit my fly the first time.
19" is my streak these days. I
may have to return to this stretch to break the streak and tie up some
loose ends.
Summer time means fishing early or late...so for me, that means late. I've caught great fish at dusk, but I have a habit of hiking out too far and not turning back when it would be smart. Then I'm in the middle of the river in darkness. One more cast, right?
I've been starting to revisit some of my favorite holes in the
Truckee since making the switch to a fly rod. It feels like starting
over in many ways, but the rewards have appeared occasionally. Last
week I returned to some deep water I was fond of.
Two casts in,
something angry ripped my beer-head baetis off the line with 2 big
shakes. I used to be able to tell the size of a fish plus or minus 2
inches from the moment I hooked up. Not so anymore. Learning what fish
feel like on the fly rod has been one of the biggest challenges, but
having recently landed a few 20"ers, I am pretty confident this guy was
much bigger than that.
Then a few casts later,
something lighter took me for a ride. After a nice surfacing and plenty
of swim-bys, he broke me off.
Fast forward a week.
Determined
to finish our exchange, I popped back to the same run yesterday.
Despite the silty water, I managed to hook up with a fish before heading
into the office. I'm 90% sure this is the same 19" fella. My need for
closure satisfied, I left with a grin on my face. Long live the
baetis.
