It's more fun counting takes than refusals.

The grass needed mowing, more peaches needed to be taken off the freestone trees (to avoid further breakage), tied new and repaired old flies, shot my bow, cleaned the toilet and vacuum the rugs (Jean will be here tonight). With all the delays it was a minor miracle to be riverside about 2:30.  Please note that riverside is not fishing. It's counting the number of anglers (9) in the Red Barn (aka pasture) pool, chatting with river friends and just trying to find an uncrowded place to fish.  

Settled on a place that I fished about a month ago.  The one that no longer has a path upstream.  Waded up to where I wanted to start and promptly hooked a nice 18 inch brown on a blind cast. A few minutes later a guide friend came down the river and while we were chatting another 18 incher ate a blind cast. They were the first browns I've hooked that were over 16 inches in over a week.  Fished for almost three hours without seeing more than a handful of rises that were not to my fly.  There were a few olives on the water and some fish were looking up. Got a couple refusals on an iso but the fish ate my olive without complaint.  It wasn't like fishing to risers in a sulfur hatch, if a fish came to the fly, he meant to eat. There were no other wade fishermen within a quarter mile and the boats gave me lots of room. 

The choice is yours.  Wedge yourself in between fishermen number six and seven in a popular sulfur pool and count refusals or seek solitude and hope to float a blind cast over a fish (if the fly's not dragging, there's a good chance he'll eat it).  

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