salmonoid
Well-known member
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2007
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Our family took a week of vacation at a state park cabin a few weeks ago. We had invited both of my wife's parents over for part of the week and I was finding it a bit challenging to feed my desire to explore some trout streams and not feel like I was abandoning my family. Prior to arriving, I had mapped out a few longer excursions I wanted to take and felt like that was a reasonable compromise between fishing and family.
Problem was, as everyone knows, the weather has been hot and dry. And this was born out on my glimpses of one of the streams in the area on the way in - lower than it was the first time I saw it last October. My daughter wanted to tag along, so after some sightseeing Saturday afternoon, my wife dropped us off streamside. While the flow was low, the water still registered 66 degrees in late afternoon. We fished a few holes that were loaded with trout opening day weekend, but could not muster a hit. Found a Lightnin' Trout hanging under a stump, but he wasn't interested either.
We steered ourselves up a tributary but found that to hold even less water.
The stream held sparse natural pools (maybe half a dozen) and some stream improvements (maybe a dozen) and of course, the fish were holed up in them. But without casting from half a mile away, it was difficult to not spook them. We finally managed to hook a fish and were a little surprised to see it was a 'bow.
We worked our way further upstream and missed or spooked several nice fish, but could not make any hookups. It was the golden hour, and we had worked our way back to a hole that was just across the road from our cabin. I stopped to observe the hole, remembering a beautiful brown that I saw there in the spring. As if on cue, a beautiful 13" brown leapt fully out of the water, just on the other side of the dead log pointing upstream.
I immediately tied on a dry but could not raise the fish. But of course, as I moved up on the hole, I saw the fish dart underneath the stump, almost like the fish I saw in the spring. With the proximity to the cabin, and the low flows, a plan began to form about how to rebalance the fishing and family time. I inquired about night fishing small streams a few years ago, but never really put boots on the ground on a small freestoner since I tried it that October. But this stream was looking to be ideal for that. It was close to the cabin. Full moon was just a few days away, so visibility at night would be great. And, fish were concentrated in the few natural pools or stream improvements there.
My daughter was bugging me to go back to the cabin (she was cold and we were wet wading), but I wanted to check out a few man-made habitats. The first stream improvement was the location of a sad sight opening day weekend - a dead brookie with a snelled baitholder, worm still intact, bobbing in the stream. I knew I wouldn't find him, but was hoping to entice some of his friends and relations. Alas, nothing showed.
The second habitat area was one that vaulted to legend status last fall. There was some pre-spawn activity there from some nice for the size of the stream fish. I had cast around the hole a number of times that fall day but couldn't catch anything. I was absentmindly flipping a nymph to the middle of the hole from the bank and all of the sudden, this large black shape shot out from underneath the deflector and nabbed it. I hooked it solidly, but that battle lasted about five seconds before the fish snapped me off and darted back under the deflector. But that 18"+ fish vaulted that pool to legend status for me. So of course, we were going to fish it, before going to the cabin for dinner. We had seen a few fish in it the day before when we were out walking, but on this Saturday evening, we could not induce a strike, nor would we even see a fish.
So that night, I went back. I crept through the woods to the stream, with soft moonlight filtering through the trees. A quick flip of the headlight identified what I thought was the hole where I had spotted the brownie jumping out and so I rigged up. As much as I enjoy mouse fishing, the size of the stream pretty much made that impractical, so I decided to finally use another fly I had bought a few years ago, with an eye towards nightfishing, the Irresistible Moosetail.
I cast a number of times, fully expecting to feel the tug of a fish, but instead, I felt the tug of branches in places I didn't remember any being there in the day. I finally got caught up completely and couldn't shake it loose, so I lit my light and was a bit chagrined to find I was fishing a mostly dry riffle, that looked a little bit like the pool from a distance, at night, but not up close. It had a log at the top, a leaning tree on the right bank, but the pool portion was absent. I worked my way downstream another hundred yards and this time, fished the right pool.
I had no interest in the fly. But, as soon as I threw my light on the pool, half a dozen legal sized trout began darting around. I walked up to the edge of the log at the top of the pool that formed it, and cast my light around more. Directly below me, I was shocked to see a much larger fish than the one that jumped out of the water earlier in the day. He was not too fond of the light and within a second, he slipped under the log, into the root ball by the bank.
I fished back up through the two stream improvements my daughter and I had fished during the day, again, with no strikes. The legend pool I fished high from the bank on the left and managed to catch a few trees. And the legend solidified when I was ready to go. I flipped my light on the pool, and hanging about a yard downstream from the head of the pool, about a foot deep, in the prime feeding lie, was an 18"+ fish.
Sunday morning I had originally planned to go on one of my excursions, to a headwater and even set my alarm for 5AM. But with the observed low flows, and the late night outing, my body made the decision to go back to sleep and instead I spent Sunday doing family activities. Sunday night, I trekked up the road, with my trusty headlight, a net, and my rod. Again, the moon was bright and again, the trout were present in the pools. But the first few pools again frustrated me. Each held 6-12 legal fish that darted around when I would throw my light on them, but they weren't interested in big dries at night.
The opening day dead brookie pool was the second to last I planned to fish. I made three or four casts to the pool, without a hit. I took a few steps closer to the pool and cast again, began to lift the fly to cast one last time, and felt fierce resistance. I threw the light on and was pleasantly surprised to find a fish that wasn't a dink. A nice 13" brownie had not resisted the Irresistible, like all his other brethren had managed to do. I snapped a photo and released him. He sulked in the tail of the pool for a bit, and looked like a bit of a frankenfish, when his tapetum reflected my spotlight back at me.
Monday, we were blessed with a brief downpour late morning. After my mother-in-law left to go home, I went down to the stream to see what impact the rain had. I could actually hear the flow from across the road and in the legend pool, the water was stained. Conditions warranted a nice streamer, to hopefully entice the tenant of the pool to feed, but he was not interested in my offering. On my little minnow streamer I fish, I had a few brookies strike, but couldn't hook them. I even tied on a plug to shuffle things up, for a few casts and actually hooked one of the little brookies, but the big brownie didn't show. Later that afternoon, I walked upstream, hoping the rain put the fish in a feeding mode. By that time, you could not even tell it had rained.
When I was there in the fall, I had fished just a few tens of yards above the legend pool, thinking that the water was too skinny to hold many fish. But in the spring, on opening day weekend, I had fished up through and was pleasantly surprised to find another half dozen or so stream improvements. So these were my Monday afternoon targets. I could not muster a fish from the pools, but ironically, hooked a little brookie under a trickle from a log.
I fished to the edge of private property, where I nabbed a beautiful brookie in the spring, but did not see any fish under the log this time. On the way back downstream, I decided to log the stream improvements on my phone, so I could better locate them at night, and minimize the need to use a headlight.
Monday night, I fished the legend pool, but again, drew no strikes. I found a different fish out that night, maybe 15-16" in length.
On Tuesday, our family had the day to ourselves, so we took a hike. We encountered a wonderful array of wildflowers, including what I think is a member of the monera family that deviated from the red color I'm accustomed to encountering on those growing streamside.
Tuesday night, I resolved to fish about a mile of stream at night, beginning at my leaping brownie pool across from the cabin, and heading upstream to the end of the stream improvements. The moon would be full the next night, but it lit up that night like it was almost day. Thankfully, the moon was downstream from me on the leaping brownie pool, so my shadow was not cast on the pool. And on the very first bow-and-arrow cast into the pool, a fish struck as soon as the fly hit the water. Now when I hook a fish at night, most of the time, you can't really tell what you have hooked. I've caught fish from 7"-21" at night and sometimes those little guys give it there all and you swear you have a beast on, until you retrieve it. But with this fish, I knew I had hooked the big brownie I had spotted Saturday night. And it also instantly registered that I had forgotten my net, which was lying back at the cabin. Thankfully, the fish managed to not wrap himself around any of the logs and I was able to kneel on the log and retrieve him for a photo. The fish taped over 17" and has that classic big head, small body physique of a big small-stream brownie.
Given that I was 1/1 on casts, I thought maybe all the conditions had come together and tonight would be a feeding night. I fished up through the pools, but had no strikes in the dead brookie pool, or the legend hole. Upstream from that, the six or so stream improvements I had mapped the day before beckoned. And for those pools, I did have the moon at my back. Having read a pamphlet about wildlife in the park earlier in the day, my mind wondered if some sex-crazed bear might mistake me for a sow, since June into mid-July was bear mating season. But all I encountered in any of my night outings were a few bats, and a racoon that chittered his disgust at my presence. And I ended the night with the only strike I had being the only fish I caught.
On Wednesday, I executed my other planned longer excursion. The previous day and night had been cooler than some of the highs earlier in the week, and the stream was a relatively chilly 61 degrees when I arrived. Bee balm was growing everywhere streamside.
Being a larger stream than I had been fishing at night, this stream held more water and had many natural pools. I had high hopes for a good outing, and thought I might bring a nice quantity of fish to hand. But things started out slow. It took me way too long to see a fish and break the morning skunk.
I worked upstream, but again, encountered few eager fish. I walked around this logjam, since it was impossible to fish from the bottom side.
I managed a good first cast, back and into the logjam, and was about to figuratively scratch my head as my minnow imitation neared the head, when a fish nabbed it. I brought the second species of the day to hand. Never give up on your retrieve.
When I fished this area in the spring, a number of fabulous holes existed, mostly behind log jams. However, a single gully washer must have occurred sometime between April and mid-July, because the log jam pools were drained. I was pleased to see a brookie charge out from a log jam above one of the drained holes, but became indifferent when I landed it.
The next pool above the stocker brookie home was one that I anticipated fishing, ever since I was there in the spring. On opening day Sunday, I had a large brown chase my LiteBrite minnow. The fish had been towards the tail of the pool, but retreated to the head that day, into a log and stump jam.
But, this Wednesday, the big brown was nowhere to be found. And given the presence of a number of other 12-13" fish in the pool, I felt pretty certain that big fish was no longer there. I was also looking forward to fishing another logjam area, but as I worked up to it, I found that had also been drained. I missed a nice brownie just a bit above that, and then walked through a long stretch of mostly dried up riffles.
I fished a puzzling number of pools that looked like fabulous fish habitat, but couldn't get any of the fish to commit. I did see boot tracks that were fresh enough that they had not been wiped out by the rain from Monday, so it is possible someone had recently fished the stream. Regardless of the day not meeting my initial expectations, I pushed on. I came up on a rather non-descript section of stream.
I made a few casts and walked up from the tail to look at some bee balm. And then my jaw dropped. Lying in the middle of stream was a huge fish. I couldn't ID the species but after I picked my jaw up, it dropped again, when I spotted a second even bigger fish, which I was positive was a brown. Two branches neatly crossed the pool, creating an obstacle course for fishing.
My interest in moving on had ceased, of course, by that point. The fish didn't seem overly spooked by my presence, although the smaller fish moved upstream and under the bank. I took a few steps back and managed a cast under the branch, near the top of the V, near where the brown lay. So many times, when you do that, you can imagine how the fish will strike. And it doesn't ever strike or if it does, it is nothing like you imagine. This one didn't exactly strike as my mind imagined it, and maybe it was just an aggression take, but with my line underneath the branch, the fish moved, I set the hook, and immediately found myself in the situation of having a fish going the opposite direction I wanted to. Namely, the fish charged downstream, running my line against the branch. And then it just kind of bulled to the bottom and sat there. I tried to guide the fish back upstream, but everytime I would get it moving in what seemed like the right direction, it would make a 180-dgree turn and bull downstream. This created an obvious dilemma for me and I thought of wading in, and breaking off the stick I was sawing around. I was afraid the fish would snap my line, or just rub it through, or if I waded in, would make a hard run and get off, but by some good fortune, on about the fifth time I pointed him upstream, when he came downstream again, he came to the left of the branch, instead of the right. And as soon as I untangled my line, I played him to the shallow tail of the pool, and the fight was over. Taped him at 22+", and if wild, the fish has finally allowed me to break the 22" wild brown barrier.
Fish will sometimes give you a brief adrenaline jolt. This brown had me on that jolt for several minutes after I released him, and I was sure it would be the highlight of the day. That calculation turned out to be correct. I worked upstream a bit further, puzzled at the lack of visible presence of fish in some fishy pools, and after discovering the presence of a road streamside that I had completely missed on the map, decided it was about time to head back. I came upon this little stream section, that was so picturesque. A nearly thirty foot vertical rock cliff rose to the right. Rhododendron grew about ten feet up, and the base of the cliff, by the stream, was covered with fallen rhododendron petals. A small waterfall stood at the head of the pool and water dripped down the cliff edge for it's entire length.
I whiffed on a brown that was hanging by a rock in the pool at the head of the cliff, and then landed it on the second cast. My initial reaction was stocker, but I tend to be conservative on my own fish when it comes to guesses on the stocked/wild issue.
Grabbed lunch after that (just for the record, the Vera Bradley bag is my daughter's and I just needed something to keep my lunch cold in) and washed it down with a stream-cooled Baba Black Lager.
I made the trip back to the car after that and in addition to the road I had missed on the map, discovered a nice connector trail I had not encountered while fishing in the spring. It made for an easy hike out. Big brownie was still hanging in his pool, but his compatriot was nowhere to be seen, probably tucked up under the bank.
I did go out to the stream by the cabin that night, hoping that lightning would strike twice, and I would hook and land the fish in the legend pool. But Wednesday night's outing yielded no fish.
And so it all came down to Thursday night. I envisioned the week having a storybook ending, with me finally catching the big brownie in the legend pool. But while the story may end with "They lived happily ever after", the ending did not include that particular brownie. Nevertheless, this was the greatest number of days I have consecutively night fished, as well as the longest distance I have fished at night, with the Tuesday night outing being over a mile on the stream. I think I struck a fair balance between fishing and family. The only drawback? It was the least restful vacation I've taken in a long time, maybe ever, since I was awake half of every night. But I'd do it all again. Quantity of fish caught was extremely low (take out the one extended outing and I averaged less than a fish a day), but I can't complain about the quality of the fish I caught any day, especially given the conditions and the situations I was in to catch them.
Problem was, as everyone knows, the weather has been hot and dry. And this was born out on my glimpses of one of the streams in the area on the way in - lower than it was the first time I saw it last October. My daughter wanted to tag along, so after some sightseeing Saturday afternoon, my wife dropped us off streamside. While the flow was low, the water still registered 66 degrees in late afternoon. We fished a few holes that were loaded with trout opening day weekend, but could not muster a hit. Found a Lightnin' Trout hanging under a stump, but he wasn't interested either.
We steered ourselves up a tributary but found that to hold even less water.
The stream held sparse natural pools (maybe half a dozen) and some stream improvements (maybe a dozen) and of course, the fish were holed up in them. But without casting from half a mile away, it was difficult to not spook them. We finally managed to hook a fish and were a little surprised to see it was a 'bow.
We worked our way further upstream and missed or spooked several nice fish, but could not make any hookups. It was the golden hour, and we had worked our way back to a hole that was just across the road from our cabin. I stopped to observe the hole, remembering a beautiful brown that I saw there in the spring. As if on cue, a beautiful 13" brown leapt fully out of the water, just on the other side of the dead log pointing upstream.
I immediately tied on a dry but could not raise the fish. But of course, as I moved up on the hole, I saw the fish dart underneath the stump, almost like the fish I saw in the spring. With the proximity to the cabin, and the low flows, a plan began to form about how to rebalance the fishing and family time. I inquired about night fishing small streams a few years ago, but never really put boots on the ground on a small freestoner since I tried it that October. But this stream was looking to be ideal for that. It was close to the cabin. Full moon was just a few days away, so visibility at night would be great. And, fish were concentrated in the few natural pools or stream improvements there.
My daughter was bugging me to go back to the cabin (she was cold and we were wet wading), but I wanted to check out a few man-made habitats. The first stream improvement was the location of a sad sight opening day weekend - a dead brookie with a snelled baitholder, worm still intact, bobbing in the stream. I knew I wouldn't find him, but was hoping to entice some of his friends and relations. Alas, nothing showed.
The second habitat area was one that vaulted to legend status last fall. There was some pre-spawn activity there from some nice for the size of the stream fish. I had cast around the hole a number of times that fall day but couldn't catch anything. I was absentmindly flipping a nymph to the middle of the hole from the bank and all of the sudden, this large black shape shot out from underneath the deflector and nabbed it. I hooked it solidly, but that battle lasted about five seconds before the fish snapped me off and darted back under the deflector. But that 18"+ fish vaulted that pool to legend status for me. So of course, we were going to fish it, before going to the cabin for dinner. We had seen a few fish in it the day before when we were out walking, but on this Saturday evening, we could not induce a strike, nor would we even see a fish.
So that night, I went back. I crept through the woods to the stream, with soft moonlight filtering through the trees. A quick flip of the headlight identified what I thought was the hole where I had spotted the brownie jumping out and so I rigged up. As much as I enjoy mouse fishing, the size of the stream pretty much made that impractical, so I decided to finally use another fly I had bought a few years ago, with an eye towards nightfishing, the Irresistible Moosetail.
I cast a number of times, fully expecting to feel the tug of a fish, but instead, I felt the tug of branches in places I didn't remember any being there in the day. I finally got caught up completely and couldn't shake it loose, so I lit my light and was a bit chagrined to find I was fishing a mostly dry riffle, that looked a little bit like the pool from a distance, at night, but not up close. It had a log at the top, a leaning tree on the right bank, but the pool portion was absent. I worked my way downstream another hundred yards and this time, fished the right pool.
I had no interest in the fly. But, as soon as I threw my light on the pool, half a dozen legal sized trout began darting around. I walked up to the edge of the log at the top of the pool that formed it, and cast my light around more. Directly below me, I was shocked to see a much larger fish than the one that jumped out of the water earlier in the day. He was not too fond of the light and within a second, he slipped under the log, into the root ball by the bank.
I fished back up through the two stream improvements my daughter and I had fished during the day, again, with no strikes. The legend pool I fished high from the bank on the left and managed to catch a few trees. And the legend solidified when I was ready to go. I flipped my light on the pool, and hanging about a yard downstream from the head of the pool, about a foot deep, in the prime feeding lie, was an 18"+ fish.
Sunday morning I had originally planned to go on one of my excursions, to a headwater and even set my alarm for 5AM. But with the observed low flows, and the late night outing, my body made the decision to go back to sleep and instead I spent Sunday doing family activities. Sunday night, I trekked up the road, with my trusty headlight, a net, and my rod. Again, the moon was bright and again, the trout were present in the pools. But the first few pools again frustrated me. Each held 6-12 legal fish that darted around when I would throw my light on them, but they weren't interested in big dries at night.
The opening day dead brookie pool was the second to last I planned to fish. I made three or four casts to the pool, without a hit. I took a few steps closer to the pool and cast again, began to lift the fly to cast one last time, and felt fierce resistance. I threw the light on and was pleasantly surprised to find a fish that wasn't a dink. A nice 13" brownie had not resisted the Irresistible, like all his other brethren had managed to do. I snapped a photo and released him. He sulked in the tail of the pool for a bit, and looked like a bit of a frankenfish, when his tapetum reflected my spotlight back at me.
Monday, we were blessed with a brief downpour late morning. After my mother-in-law left to go home, I went down to the stream to see what impact the rain had. I could actually hear the flow from across the road and in the legend pool, the water was stained. Conditions warranted a nice streamer, to hopefully entice the tenant of the pool to feed, but he was not interested in my offering. On my little minnow streamer I fish, I had a few brookies strike, but couldn't hook them. I even tied on a plug to shuffle things up, for a few casts and actually hooked one of the little brookies, but the big brownie didn't show. Later that afternoon, I walked upstream, hoping the rain put the fish in a feeding mode. By that time, you could not even tell it had rained.
When I was there in the fall, I had fished just a few tens of yards above the legend pool, thinking that the water was too skinny to hold many fish. But in the spring, on opening day weekend, I had fished up through and was pleasantly surprised to find another half dozen or so stream improvements. So these were my Monday afternoon targets. I could not muster a fish from the pools, but ironically, hooked a little brookie under a trickle from a log.
I fished to the edge of private property, where I nabbed a beautiful brookie in the spring, but did not see any fish under the log this time. On the way back downstream, I decided to log the stream improvements on my phone, so I could better locate them at night, and minimize the need to use a headlight.
Monday night, I fished the legend pool, but again, drew no strikes. I found a different fish out that night, maybe 15-16" in length.
On Tuesday, our family had the day to ourselves, so we took a hike. We encountered a wonderful array of wildflowers, including what I think is a member of the monera family that deviated from the red color I'm accustomed to encountering on those growing streamside.
Tuesday night, I resolved to fish about a mile of stream at night, beginning at my leaping brownie pool across from the cabin, and heading upstream to the end of the stream improvements. The moon would be full the next night, but it lit up that night like it was almost day. Thankfully, the moon was downstream from me on the leaping brownie pool, so my shadow was not cast on the pool. And on the very first bow-and-arrow cast into the pool, a fish struck as soon as the fly hit the water. Now when I hook a fish at night, most of the time, you can't really tell what you have hooked. I've caught fish from 7"-21" at night and sometimes those little guys give it there all and you swear you have a beast on, until you retrieve it. But with this fish, I knew I had hooked the big brownie I had spotted Saturday night. And it also instantly registered that I had forgotten my net, which was lying back at the cabin. Thankfully, the fish managed to not wrap himself around any of the logs and I was able to kneel on the log and retrieve him for a photo. The fish taped over 17" and has that classic big head, small body physique of a big small-stream brownie.
Given that I was 1/1 on casts, I thought maybe all the conditions had come together and tonight would be a feeding night. I fished up through the pools, but had no strikes in the dead brookie pool, or the legend hole. Upstream from that, the six or so stream improvements I had mapped the day before beckoned. And for those pools, I did have the moon at my back. Having read a pamphlet about wildlife in the park earlier in the day, my mind wondered if some sex-crazed bear might mistake me for a sow, since June into mid-July was bear mating season. But all I encountered in any of my night outings were a few bats, and a racoon that chittered his disgust at my presence. And I ended the night with the only strike I had being the only fish I caught.
On Wednesday, I executed my other planned longer excursion. The previous day and night had been cooler than some of the highs earlier in the week, and the stream was a relatively chilly 61 degrees when I arrived. Bee balm was growing everywhere streamside.
Being a larger stream than I had been fishing at night, this stream held more water and had many natural pools. I had high hopes for a good outing, and thought I might bring a nice quantity of fish to hand. But things started out slow. It took me way too long to see a fish and break the morning skunk.
I worked upstream, but again, encountered few eager fish. I walked around this logjam, since it was impossible to fish from the bottom side.
I managed a good first cast, back and into the logjam, and was about to figuratively scratch my head as my minnow imitation neared the head, when a fish nabbed it. I brought the second species of the day to hand. Never give up on your retrieve.
When I fished this area in the spring, a number of fabulous holes existed, mostly behind log jams. However, a single gully washer must have occurred sometime between April and mid-July, because the log jam pools were drained. I was pleased to see a brookie charge out from a log jam above one of the drained holes, but became indifferent when I landed it.
The next pool above the stocker brookie home was one that I anticipated fishing, ever since I was there in the spring. On opening day Sunday, I had a large brown chase my LiteBrite minnow. The fish had been towards the tail of the pool, but retreated to the head that day, into a log and stump jam.
But, this Wednesday, the big brown was nowhere to be found. And given the presence of a number of other 12-13" fish in the pool, I felt pretty certain that big fish was no longer there. I was also looking forward to fishing another logjam area, but as I worked up to it, I found that had also been drained. I missed a nice brownie just a bit above that, and then walked through a long stretch of mostly dried up riffles.
I fished a puzzling number of pools that looked like fabulous fish habitat, but couldn't get any of the fish to commit. I did see boot tracks that were fresh enough that they had not been wiped out by the rain from Monday, so it is possible someone had recently fished the stream. Regardless of the day not meeting my initial expectations, I pushed on. I came up on a rather non-descript section of stream.
I made a few casts and walked up from the tail to look at some bee balm. And then my jaw dropped. Lying in the middle of stream was a huge fish. I couldn't ID the species but after I picked my jaw up, it dropped again, when I spotted a second even bigger fish, which I was positive was a brown. Two branches neatly crossed the pool, creating an obstacle course for fishing.
My interest in moving on had ceased, of course, by that point. The fish didn't seem overly spooked by my presence, although the smaller fish moved upstream and under the bank. I took a few steps back and managed a cast under the branch, near the top of the V, near where the brown lay. So many times, when you do that, you can imagine how the fish will strike. And it doesn't ever strike or if it does, it is nothing like you imagine. This one didn't exactly strike as my mind imagined it, and maybe it was just an aggression take, but with my line underneath the branch, the fish moved, I set the hook, and immediately found myself in the situation of having a fish going the opposite direction I wanted to. Namely, the fish charged downstream, running my line against the branch. And then it just kind of bulled to the bottom and sat there. I tried to guide the fish back upstream, but everytime I would get it moving in what seemed like the right direction, it would make a 180-dgree turn and bull downstream. This created an obvious dilemma for me and I thought of wading in, and breaking off the stick I was sawing around. I was afraid the fish would snap my line, or just rub it through, or if I waded in, would make a hard run and get off, but by some good fortune, on about the fifth time I pointed him upstream, when he came downstream again, he came to the left of the branch, instead of the right. And as soon as I untangled my line, I played him to the shallow tail of the pool, and the fight was over. Taped him at 22+", and if wild, the fish has finally allowed me to break the 22" wild brown barrier.
Fish will sometimes give you a brief adrenaline jolt. This brown had me on that jolt for several minutes after I released him, and I was sure it would be the highlight of the day. That calculation turned out to be correct. I worked upstream a bit further, puzzled at the lack of visible presence of fish in some fishy pools, and after discovering the presence of a road streamside that I had completely missed on the map, decided it was about time to head back. I came upon this little stream section, that was so picturesque. A nearly thirty foot vertical rock cliff rose to the right. Rhododendron grew about ten feet up, and the base of the cliff, by the stream, was covered with fallen rhododendron petals. A small waterfall stood at the head of the pool and water dripped down the cliff edge for it's entire length.
I whiffed on a brown that was hanging by a rock in the pool at the head of the cliff, and then landed it on the second cast. My initial reaction was stocker, but I tend to be conservative on my own fish when it comes to guesses on the stocked/wild issue.
Grabbed lunch after that (just for the record, the Vera Bradley bag is my daughter's and I just needed something to keep my lunch cold in) and washed it down with a stream-cooled Baba Black Lager.
I made the trip back to the car after that and in addition to the road I had missed on the map, discovered a nice connector trail I had not encountered while fishing in the spring. It made for an easy hike out. Big brownie was still hanging in his pool, but his compatriot was nowhere to be seen, probably tucked up under the bank.
I did go out to the stream by the cabin that night, hoping that lightning would strike twice, and I would hook and land the fish in the legend pool. But Wednesday night's outing yielded no fish.
And so it all came down to Thursday night. I envisioned the week having a storybook ending, with me finally catching the big brownie in the legend pool. But while the story may end with "They lived happily ever after", the ending did not include that particular brownie. Nevertheless, this was the greatest number of days I have consecutively night fished, as well as the longest distance I have fished at night, with the Tuesday night outing being over a mile on the stream. I think I struck a fair balance between fishing and family. The only drawback? It was the least restful vacation I've taken in a long time, maybe ever, since I was awake half of every night. But I'd do it all again. Quantity of fish caught was extremely low (take out the one extended outing and I averaged less than a fish a day), but I can't complain about the quality of the fish I caught any day, especially given the conditions and the situations I was in to catch them.
