SOMETIMES

Caylor Custom Coffin Fly

Have you taken the time to sit, stare and reflect on what has happened throughout your personal evolution? Yeah, you’re too busy to go to a quiet place and get lost. Really? You owe it to yourself. I know some who are content with the same old thing and never attempt anything new. I’m thankful that I have never been trapped in that place. Think about something that you used to enjoy doing but can no longer find the time for. Hey, you heard it here first: You’re never going to be rich so you’ll be better off happy.

I recently re-discovered something that I really enjoy doing. I have been able to squeeze in a little bit of fly fishing over the past fifteen or so years and I was somewhat content with the time spent doing so. The bad thing was that I was never able to go at prime time in the places that I really wanted to be. I made do and fished streamers and nymphs. I always managed to catch some fish and all was well; or so it seemed. That was until a few weeks ago.

I was just piddling around one evening with the dogs on a small stream close to home. We all know that our wonderful 4 dollar gas doesn't allow us to get too far away, anymore. The dogs were trailing mink which has become their favorite way to get tangled up and I was starring in the water. There was one subtle rise on the far side of the stream. I couldn't see any insect activity other than a few crane flies. The beagles were thoroughly entertained so I waded out in a shallow riffle and scooped up a hatful of water. Spent Sulphurs were in my hat. They were invisible to me while looking at the water; but there were apparently thousands to be sipped up by the trout.  There had been a mayfly hatch on the stream earlier, the females had returned to the stream, laid there eggs and died. Many now floated in the surface film.

I returned to the stream bank and watched downstream. I could count fifteen actively feeding trout within 75 yards of my location. The wheels started turning. I knew that I couldn't fish that section with the dogs around. It was too shallow and too tight that was sure to equal spooky fish. It was getting late so I just watched and came back alone the next evening. I was not disappointed, even though my small water casting skills needed some honing. I managed to catch nine rising trout in about a 200 yard section of stream. The trout, while none were over a foot long were all caught using spent Sulphurs on the surface.

I really enjoy stalking and fishing for surface feeding trout. You have to be careful not to spook them and then make the perfect cast. Dry fly and terrestrial fishing for low water trout after the fish trucks quit running is the ultimate one on one outdoor experience. I’m hooked once again. Why did I quit doing it? Sometimes I just wonder.

This article first appeared in the July 2014 print edition of Two-Lane Livin

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