If you're looking for someone to test raincoats - - - -
It's not easy being me. I tell my wife that all the time. Went trico fishing again this am. Drove by the #1 pool with no intention of stopping. Jersey was parked there again, pulling on his waders and talking with someone in a car from NY. Two of the three fishermen on the UEB.
Drove up river and quickly ran out of tricos. The hatch moves up stream and is still in the lower section of the UEB. Found a place with tricos, rising fish and no one from NJ. The fish were hugging the bank and the bank had a mirror like reflection in the water, which had an ample supply of both tricos and bubbles. If you've ever fished tricos you know I had no clue which trico was mine.
Because of the warm night and sun the whole thing was over by 10:30.
After waiting out a T-boomer at the camp I headed for the UEB yet again. Found a good hatch of olives (sizes very small, small and sorta small). Got a bunch of ignores and a couple of takes just as two kayakers paddled right through the rising fish. I usually ask people to go behind me and they always do but I was playing a fish and didn't see them coming. Twenty minutes later as the next t-storm hit, the water was covered with olives with nary a fish rising.
With the sun out again I descended a steep hill (with my raincoat in my jacket) to another pool. Both the olives and fish were going and I was so busy I chose to ignore the darkening skies and rumbling thunder, until I heard the roar of wind and water coming over the hill a quarter mile away. Its not easy to get the rain coat out of the back of your vest in the middle of the stream with the landing net in the way, your rod in your hand and a storm bearing down on you. Got things zipped up just as it hit. It only lasted about ten minutes but sitting on a little grass island covered with goose shit while sheets of rain driven by a wind that was for sure over forty mph swirl around you is not the expected agenda when you set out to fish. When the rain let up the fish went about their business eating crippled olives. A good many of the cripples had a hook in them. Within half an hour the fog on the water was so thick I couldn't see rises or my fly.
Intended to fish the upper big river late but the lower WB was gushing mud from Sands Creek and Shehawken Creek. Took off my waders and headed for camp.
Drove up river and quickly ran out of tricos. The hatch moves up stream and is still in the lower section of the UEB. Found a place with tricos, rising fish and no one from NJ. The fish were hugging the bank and the bank had a mirror like reflection in the water, which had an ample supply of both tricos and bubbles. If you've ever fished tricos you know I had no clue which trico was mine.
Because of the warm night and sun the whole thing was over by 10:30.
After waiting out a T-boomer at the camp I headed for the UEB yet again. Found a good hatch of olives (sizes very small, small and sorta small). Got a bunch of ignores and a couple of takes just as two kayakers paddled right through the rising fish. I usually ask people to go behind me and they always do but I was playing a fish and didn't see them coming. Twenty minutes later as the next t-storm hit, the water was covered with olives with nary a fish rising.
With the sun out again I descended a steep hill (with my raincoat in my jacket) to another pool. Both the olives and fish were going and I was so busy I chose to ignore the darkening skies and rumbling thunder, until I heard the roar of wind and water coming over the hill a quarter mile away. Its not easy to get the rain coat out of the back of your vest in the middle of the stream with the landing net in the way, your rod in your hand and a storm bearing down on you. Got things zipped up just as it hit. It only lasted about ten minutes but sitting on a little grass island covered with goose shit while sheets of rain driven by a wind that was for sure over forty mph swirl around you is not the expected agenda when you set out to fish. When the rain let up the fish went about their business eating crippled olives. A good many of the cripples had a hook in them. Within half an hour the fog on the water was so thick I couldn't see rises or my fly.
Intended to fish the upper big river late but the lower WB was gushing mud from Sands Creek and Shehawken Creek. Took off my waders and headed for camp.
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