Plans, what plans?
After two days of relative peace and quiet in the "sulfur zone" with a good mix of summer bugs and rising fish, where else would you go? Arrived about 3:30 and headed down towards the Gentleman's Club. Counted six drift boats between the route 17 bridge and the GC. There were also two pontoon boats and one kayak and a bunch of wade fishermen. Did a U turn and headed for the UEB.
Drove up route 30 without seeing a parked car or fisherman until Long Flat where there were three cars. Power Line had two and there were two more above Corbett. Found an empty pool with a shaded bank and fish I could see rising from the road. Climbed down the bank and had at 'em. There were a very few sulfurs on the water along with a lot of cold water "smut" (a variety of tiny, nameless bugs). For about an hour it was as if there wasn't even a fly on the end of my line none of the rising fish even acknowledged that I was in the game.
The trout were feeding subsurface and all of my varieties of sulfurs and olives were ignored. Tird on the smallest stuff in my vest and finally got some fish to eat. Never really had the answer but was throwing at rising fish for four solid hours in complete solitude. Not a single boat floated by. Not a single fisherman joined me in the pool. An eagle flew up the river, a mink scampered up the far shore, a beaver swam by me many times on his way to and from his house with the knotweed from a patch he was thinning and oh yeah, a dirt biker (without a muffler ) ROARED by me many times running a trail on the back side of the river (nothing is perfect you know).
Drove up route 30 without seeing a parked car or fisherman until Long Flat where there were three cars. Power Line had two and there were two more above Corbett. Found an empty pool with a shaded bank and fish I could see rising from the road. Climbed down the bank and had at 'em. There were a very few sulfurs on the water along with a lot of cold water "smut" (a variety of tiny, nameless bugs). For about an hour it was as if there wasn't even a fly on the end of my line none of the rising fish even acknowledged that I was in the game.
The trout were feeding subsurface and all of my varieties of sulfurs and olives were ignored. Tird on the smallest stuff in my vest and finally got some fish to eat. Never really had the answer but was throwing at rising fish for four solid hours in complete solitude. Not a single boat floated by. Not a single fisherman joined me in the pool. An eagle flew up the river, a mink scampered up the far shore, a beaver swam by me many times on his way to and from his house with the knotweed from a patch he was thinning and oh yeah, a dirt biker (without a muffler ) ROARED by me many times running a trail on the back side of the river (nothing is perfect you know).
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