Someone let the air out of my balloon!
After four days of walking into empty pools and finding fly hatches with trout eagerly feeding on them I was pretty well convinced that if I wasn't the greatest dry fly fisherman in the world I was surely in the top three.
Fully expecting that today would continue the "anointed one's" hot streak I rode my fully inflated ego up to Stockport where I was sure that the increased release of cold WB water would have the fish up and happily feeding. The bright sun was no deterrent and I was into a fish within five minutes. Three hours and over a dozen refusals later I landed my second (and last) 12 incher). There were some fish feeding (all splashy rises which would normally signal caddis as a prime suspect) but I never figured out on what until, when walking to shore I looked down at the twenty black caddis on my waders. The Hsssss you hear if you listen is the leak in my ego.
Worked around camp right through the sulfur hatch (haven't I proved the hatches will appear wherever I go?) and looking for a bit of a challenge I left camp at 5:00 aka the start of the dead period. Drove to the pool where the Cedar Waxwings alerted me to a hatch and feeding fish just a week ago. Well sure enough even a larger flock of waxwings was working over the water. Parked, looked at the sky and took my raincoat (good I did) and headed down to run up numbers on big WB browns and rainbows. Two hours later I returned to the car with one 6 incher(measured) to my credit. Hsssssssssss..
It was seven thirty and I thought I could hear a hissing noise.
Let me interrupt here to say that for the last two weeks there have been dozens of cahills on my screens every morning. This morning I hoped to find cahill spinners (I did but the fish ignored them).
Where did I go to make my last stand? With the WB shrouded in fog it's full length I ended up on the upper big river. Got there at 8:00, plenty of time to salvage the day. There were a few splashy risers so I put on an iso (hsssssssssssssssss). Nothing doing. As darkness settled in the rises changed to sips and I put on a cahill (dun) hssssssssssssssssssss. The first fish ate it confirming my decision. For the remaining 20 minutes of semi darkness the trout sipped and I threw my cahill without a single hookup. It was only when I turned on my flashlight that I saw that the water was covered with CAHILL SPINNERS. Hsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss..
Ego deflated and tail between my legs I walked back to the car.
You're never as good as you think you are and seldom as dumb as you just were. It was a great week of fishing and today's lesson was a piece of humble pie which the Delaware serves up to every angler on a regular basis.
Fully expecting that today would continue the "anointed one's" hot streak I rode my fully inflated ego up to Stockport where I was sure that the increased release of cold WB water would have the fish up and happily feeding. The bright sun was no deterrent and I was into a fish within five minutes. Three hours and over a dozen refusals later I landed my second (and last) 12 incher). There were some fish feeding (all splashy rises which would normally signal caddis as a prime suspect) but I never figured out on what until, when walking to shore I looked down at the twenty black caddis on my waders. The Hsssss you hear if you listen is the leak in my ego.
Worked around camp right through the sulfur hatch (haven't I proved the hatches will appear wherever I go?) and looking for a bit of a challenge I left camp at 5:00 aka the start of the dead period. Drove to the pool where the Cedar Waxwings alerted me to a hatch and feeding fish just a week ago. Well sure enough even a larger flock of waxwings was working over the water. Parked, looked at the sky and took my raincoat (good I did) and headed down to run up numbers on big WB browns and rainbows. Two hours later I returned to the car with one 6 incher(measured) to my credit. Hsssssssssss..
It was seven thirty and I thought I could hear a hissing noise.
Let me interrupt here to say that for the last two weeks there have been dozens of cahills on my screens every morning. This morning I hoped to find cahill spinners (I did but the fish ignored them).
Where did I go to make my last stand? With the WB shrouded in fog it's full length I ended up on the upper big river. Got there at 8:00, plenty of time to salvage the day. There were a few splashy risers so I put on an iso (hsssssssssssssssss). Nothing doing. As darkness settled in the rises changed to sips and I put on a cahill (dun) hssssssssssssssssssss. The first fish ate it confirming my decision. For the remaining 20 minutes of semi darkness the trout sipped and I threw my cahill without a single hookup. It was only when I turned on my flashlight that I saw that the water was covered with CAHILL SPINNERS. Hsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss..
Ego deflated and tail between my legs I walked back to the car.
You're never as good as you think you are and seldom as dumb as you just were. It was a great week of fishing and today's lesson was a piece of humble pie which the Delaware serves up to every angler on a regular basis.
Comments
Post a Comment