It’s looking like baetis weather

Sleet never hurt nobodyThere come’s a time in a fly fisher’s life when you throw caution to the wind. And it just so happens that such time reoccurs each and every autumn just as the weather moves into the idiotic unbearable stage. It’ll rain, sleet, and snow, and when the thunder and lightning start you’ll take a short break. Use it to convince yourself you are safe because you are standing in a valley. Or consider stepping back in as soon as someone else starts picking your favorite run apart, while you grow ever more frustrated with the fresh leader you’re attempting to tie on with fingers long since turned blue.

The occasional rainbow makes for wet handsGetting up at 4:30 am only works if the fish decide to wake along with you. Such was not the case, and by noon the crew was looking and feeling pretty motley. But splitting up often gives the individual angler opportunity to lie time to think, and the action (or lack thereof) both on top and in the emerger category forced an injection of common sense, known to be rarer than flawless golf ball sized canary diamonds amongst the fly fishing set.

Let’s see…the bugs aren’t showing their pretty little faces. The fish have got to be hungry and pissed, because it’s spawning season. Maybe they’re eating eggs? Ya’ think?

Number 25The sky turned grim, and we were getting pelted by sleet. And par for the course, we quickly found that anything greenish or brownish and insect-like, followed by just about anything pink, yellow, and/or fuzzy turned the docile environment we’d become accustomed to over the morning into an afternoon of absolute mayhem. We eventually got sick of hearing each other call out “net please” because we were usually hooked up about the same time ourselves. Mad scrambles ensued as angry brown trout after angry brown trout (and the occasional rainbow) hightailed it downstream. Within hours our individual in-hand counts had climbed from near zero into the mid-twenties or more. And what started with a few yearlings in the ten to twelve inch range quickly morphed into those measured by the pound. Soaking wet and cold, we had a decent walk ahead of us and only minutes of daylight remaining. The game was called on account of baetis weather. Even though the baetis never checked it themselves.

Is it possible to cancel the second day of a two day fishing trip because you caught too many fish the first? It may be a first in it’s own right, but it happened. A solid showing left everyone hankering for caloric intake and rest. We’d taken the place by storm, so waking after eight, followed by Blue Moon’s tasty if messy breakfast burritos and a leisurely drive back into town seemed fitting. Nevertheless, my gear is still dripping and I am still smiling. I am also certain that I am not alone.

Greg Drapeau provides fine entertainment

MG signing off (to plot another run before the weather clears)


Matt Dunn says:

Nice fish man. Glad to see you’re getting out a bit more. But I have to question the decision to leave when the fishing was good. That’s just wrong. Way wrong.

It was wrong, wrong, wrong. And it hurt. But early season the roads are sketchy. Which could have hurt more.

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