So maybe I should consider a wading staff?

With the weatherman calling for an all day rain I dutifully set up shop in the garage and painted storms all morning.  When I emerged from the garage at noon it had stopped raining and the sun was out.  The weatherman and I are not currently speaking.

Left camp at 12:30 with the prediction still calling for afternoon showers and evening t-boomers.  Spent the afternoon pool hopping on the BK and UE.  Found fish in all but one pool and was entertained trying to convince them that my flies were good enough to eat.  Lost the only three year old I hooked but caught enough two year olds to make it a sweaty but enjoyable afternoon.

Then things got interesting.  Went to the BR  about six.  Fished the place I was headed to last night when all the trailers dissuaded me.  It was dead.  Nothing, no bugs, no risers, not even any boats. It had to be seven when I saw the first splashy rise ( an iso nymph chaser).  Soon thereafter flies began to hatch.  There were white flies, olives, isos and cahills.  The fish took note and began to feed.  It's now probably 7:15 or later and I've got targets and am hooking fish and chasing them downstream as backing vanishes from my reel.  It's a hoot!!!!  When it's "on" on the big river there's no greater rush for a fly fisherman.  Sorta like a cowboy riding a bull at the rodeo.

It's now probably 7:40, the fish are still rising and I walking upstream looking for risers when a large boulder caught my toe in mid stride.  Managed to get the foot on top of the boulder but my momentum carried me forward and required two or three more rapid steps replete with the flailing of both arms and the dunking of one arm to regain my balance. Stood up and a fish rose not twenty feet from me. My line was wrapped around my head, the leader was twisted around the rod and the fly? You know where it was - tangled in the landing net which had come over my shoulder during my fight with gravity. I untangled the whole mess and the fish obligingly rose again. I made the short cast, the fish ate, made two jumps and gave me back my fly.  Reeled it in, turned on my flashlight, crossed the river without further incident, climbed the hill and walked back to the car.  It was 8:05 when I started the car. That 45 minutes on the BR is why I fly fish.

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