Many times, the trout are right at your feet. Some times, they are not. Often, the trout are on tiny midge stuff or emergers or crazy ant patterns. But, there are times when less is not more and bigger and more is much better. I love those times. The water was ripping. Very high, in the trees really. The typical drifts were fruitless and producing little Salmon and Brook Trout dinks. The fish that I really wanted were holding in the middle channel of the river. I could see them. Beautiful Brook Trout and Salmon feeding on seemingly anything that came down their feeding lanes. The fish were taunting me and I knew what I needed to do. First, I looked around me for the most advantageous position available. I wanted to be as far out as I could, but not at the cost of having to wade deep. Statistically, those deep wading scenarios never really pan out. I also wanted to be as high above the water as possible and position myself at an angle that would allow for an optimal drift. There it was! A huge boulder. Perfect! 5 feet high and a flat, smooth surface. A natural stripping basket. Luck was on my side, literally. The wind was ripping and luckily it was at my back. So, I hopped up on top of the boulder, stripped a ton of line off my reel and made my first cast. Zip! Wow, the wind was really in my favor and combined with a double-haul I was able to throw all that line with no problem. So, I pulled all of the line off my reel and I did not stop until there was a fair amount of backing laying on the ground. I timed the wind gusts perfectly. I made an initial cast, just to lay some line on the water. The wind died for a second. I peeled the the fly line off the water and let it shoot behind me. Just as the fly rod loaded and I pinched my fingers to initiate the subtel yet magical energy of the double-haul, the wind gusted at 20 plus miles per hour. I swear, it was the longest cast I have ever made with a floating line. The fly landed exactly where it needed to be. Immediately, I put a huge mend in the line. I knew I only had a few seconds of a drift because of all the fly line between me and the fly and because of the super fast water. Oh yah, I forgot to mention the best part! Guess what I had on for a fly? A huge stimulator pattern called the Bugmeister. So, the fly landed and I could see it floating like a tennis ball down the river. Go, go, go, go, go, go, ….. I extended my arm to get just a little bit more out of the drift and Bang! A beautiful Brook Trout jumped clear out of the water and pounced on the fly. I set the hook, but because of the distance between me and the fish it was more of a knee jerk reaction with little actual benefit. Fortunately, for me and not the fish, the aggresive take was responsible for the hook set. I did land the fish, but nothing really spectacular happened during this portion of the experience. What made this experience so sweet was all of the things leading up to and including the take. This experience, for me, verifies one of the most exciting aspects of fly fishing. Sometimes it makes sense to follow the rules and excercise minimal effort and other times it makes sense to throw caution to the wind and risk it all. Of course, you run the risk of catasrophe. Lost flies, lost fly line, big birds nests of fly line at your feet, a hook in the back of the head and looking like a moron if things go bad and anyone else is around you. But, if you are willing to risk those things, which in the end are quickly forgotten and replacable, you might just trick a great fish and produce a memory that will last a lifetime. So, next time you find yourself in a similar situation, analyze your surroundings, disregard the little fish feeding infront of you and go for it.
Show-off….hahaha
nice! would have been a sight to see. You’re fun to watch cast to begin with, must have felt like one of the Rajeffs with that tail-wind.
this fish tale – tells of this 1 success …. it fails to mention the hundreds, if not thousands of times … that my efforts were catastrophic (flies stuck in head, fly line wrapped around in a tree behind me too high to get back, huge freaking tangles of line at my feet etc…) — so this one time, i gotta say, it felt awesome …. and made all those failed attempts and frustrations worth it …. for that one cast and that one fish … I WAS THE MAN …. in my own head anyway….. this winter … i will be reliving that experience many times over in my head … and like all things …. i am sure this experience will – no doubt – be replaced with the more common experiences of humility and looking like an idiot on the delaware or chasing albies from sun up till sundown on the marthas vineyard … casting like a wild man .. and the fish always staying one step ahead of me ….
cool article, jer.
Hmmmmm….large flat rock. Maybe I know the spot. Positioning always makes a huge difference. Good going.
marsh
i think i saw the one you hooked 2 or 3 years ago … remember the one that monster brookie that got away because the dropper fly got snagged on bottom …. will never forget that fish — i don’t know who was more broken hearted you or me … that was a monster brook trout …. HE’S BACK … waiting for you ……
Another great Brookie. You definitely have a knack for being able to find the nice ones dude. Even when the water is ripping. Great read regarding taking chances also. I think my biggest problem when fishing is when I put to much thought into it and don’t go with instinct. For me when I’m comfortable fishing a certain location that I have fished many times before it just becomes routine. And the less I have to think about casting the better. One tip I read a while ago is to just let the bad casts drift out and don’t worry about spooking the fish and recasting. I’ve actually caught a few nice fish by doing that. And the bad casts always are the higher percentage than the good ones. I’m with you though. Getting that one cast and drift that you know was perfect and hooking into a nice fish are the moments you never forget.
it fails to mention the hundreds, if not thousands of times … that my efforts were catastrophic (flies stuck in head, fly line wrapped around in a tree behind me too high to get back, huge freaking tangles of line at my feet etc…) —
we don’t talk about those times…ssshhhhhh
they never happened
Beautiful Brookie Jeremy, there is no other place to find these guys with such brilliant colors than in Maine, the color definition on their fins seen through the water in your photo makes me want to pack up and head north…..I wish I still lived there.
Great read and good job with the 90+ foot cast, it obviously pays to take calculated risks on occasion.
Well done Bro. That take is what keeps us coming back for more punishment. Sounds like a perfect chain of events that unfolded on that flat rock you were perched on. I wouldn’t expect anything less. Don’t give ’em all sore lips, I’ll be up there in a month or two.
I’m happy you got to go back there. The flows have been so high everywhere.
It’s so cool that we have these strategy breakthroughs on our fly fishing journeys.
An excellent telling of the moment of truth and how damn good it feels when we put it all together. keep the stories coming
I just re-read your first sentence…”Many times, the trout are right at your feet.”
Jeeze, I wish it were so. First sentence contains a mantra and gives credence to always “Fish your close water first!”