Dry Flies, Rivers, Trout & Tarpon.: Change

There's this little stretch of water I've always wanted to fish. Not merely wading through or taking a look, but casting to fish when there's bugs on the water. I'm always distracted into the water above or below here. Today I'm committed. I start up the trail just before 11, straight toward the bridge, with only one brief distraction of a 13 incher.

From the strong riffle under the ranch bridge, the water speeds by then spreads out shallow. A series of three or four little islands on river left break the flow. Its ankle deep with a fine gravel bottom, not the muck of just downstream. Part of the river then splits into a back channel on river left that is often magic at its low end, hundreds of yards below. But what about the top side? On the fishing map its called Pelican Shoal. There was a couple of the bastards there all right. The lower, larger islands just below are the Middle Islands. It can be a bit of a no man's land at times because its sandwiched in between the fabled named runs upriver like Whorehouse, Avenue of the Giants, and Bonefish Flats; and all the jewels of Millionaires' just below. I have to cross the river to get there, which can be a chore in the higher flows of early summer. Not today though. Its barely knee high anywhere, and flows pretty clean, with just a clump of grass here and there.

The sound of the riffle at the bridge keeps me turning my head occasionally to see if there's a gust of wind coming. A north breeze comes and goes into the afternoon. The mahoganies start first, with the olives following from around 1:00 on. The mahoganies are as numerous as yesterday and fish are looking for 'em. The current speed here is double to triple that of Millionaires. I locate an isolated fish that's larger than most, and spook it in minutes. Ten minutes later, its up again, and this time I get a killer eat on an up and across cast, but send it exploding upriver never to be seen again. A half hour later, I cast down and across to another pig. He turns around and chases my fly as its swinging below him just before I pick up to cast again. That ends that. The two best fish I see all day, now toast. No more on the flats, but I find a pod of risers at the top of the middle island where the river makes a 90 degree left turn, necks down to 30 feet wide, then a quick hard right. It deepens on turn two, and its full of rising fish in a range of sizes. I hook a good one on the second cast and he takes my captive dun deep into the weeds and keeps it. At this point, today is what is called a market correction.

I spend the afternoon casting to the occasional larger fish in water I haven't previously fished. Water I've walked past so many times. I get some smalls, miss some mediums, and blow a couple more nice ones. The eats in the fast narrow current of the upper back channel are slashing and splashy, more like I'd see for a skittering caddis. I get a good one where the channel water begins to slow again closer to it's end. The mid-day clouds give way to more sunshine, and the bigger fish all but disappear, despite the water still full of big and little mayflies. Towards the end, I sit on the bank and watch fish start and stop, and the timing is directly related to the clouds blocking or not blocking the sun. Rises all but vanish in the brighter light. So do I, a little early, but still fulfilled.