Different Day

This river . . . One day it just doesn't work.  It makes a bad fisherman out of you.  Your luck just isn't there.  Wrong place at the wrong time.  Wind.  Something!  It does that.  Then the next day, it all goes right, at least under the given circumstances.  This morning the bugs, such as they were, came a little late.  The sparse tricos and occasional mahogany didn't last much past the wind coming up around 11:30.  But there was this little 50-yard stretch, down the middle of the river, channeled by an island and some weed mounds, where I found some heads coming up.  Just a little above yesterday's water.  They ate, and I netted every one I hooked!  How did that happen?  I had two misses, and a heartbreaking refusal to start the morning.  Same two flies.  It was a fun couple of hours, and I didn't even feel any back or shoulder pain!  

Heartbreak hotel.  First cast.  Killer refusal from a pig.  With a witness.

Yes.  Weeds and the barns.

That's a slice of heaven right there, or at least a damn fine place to fish.

They're long

Some were shorter

Another angle of Heartbreak Hotel in the wind

Beauty queen.  

That's Les right there!