After spending the day working at home I got an email just after 4pm from my boss meaning pretty much everything I'd done would need to be redone, so what other choice did I have but to go fishing? We've had some rain lately so I figured the water would be a little cloudy so I figured my best choice would be throw streamers up the top of the middle branch of the Whitewater River. It was a very humid day with heavy cloud cover and the forecast was for severe storms with the chance of a tornado. I don't understand why I had the river to myself.
When I first got there I noticed heavy clouds of tiny tan midges coming off with just the odd mayfly mixed in. There was sporadic subsurface swirls but not enough to change my plan of throwing a small clouser. I wandered upstream probing the pools with gentle conviction as a few light showers pushed quickly through the valley. I had not so much as a look until I'd gotten as far up as the sixth or seventh hole. As the fly swung down to the tailout and past a large rock it was swatted at by a small brownie. There had been a few swirls in that location as well so I swung the fly through a few more times. All I got was refusals but the fish kept taking whatever it was eating. By this time a few more light mayflies were coming off so I switched to a small hare's ear. I had a couple more swats but didn't hook up so I moved up to the head of the next pool.
Now I was convinced the streamer approach wasn't the way to go. Fish were swirling and occasionally feeding on the surface here and in the riffles at the head of the pool. It was time to switch to a light cahill which immediately paid dividends. The hatch only kept getting better and the fish were very much keyed in on them. The fly had to be riding high and once it got waterlogged and down in the film the fish wouldn't strike. The action was fast and furious and each fish was extra fun as I had to play them carefully with the 7X tippet. Of course most strikes didn't come to hand but the true joy of fishing dries is watching as they instantly materialize from the depths and the fly you've been watching as it drifts down disappears below. What a blast. In the next hour and half or so I landed seven brownies and three rainbows, all from the same pool. The last fish in particular was particularly rewarding.
When the hatch was at full stream there were fish boiling and leaping all across the head of the pool, and you had your choice of risers to cast to, but as the hatch dwindled the rises became less frequent and you could focus on specific fish. Having the right fly it was just a question of getting the right drift with the right timing and you'd get a rise, and eventually hookup and land the fish. At the very head of the rapids was a couple of large boulders and some crazy current and, with the right drift, the fly would slip into a slick and dip about six inches or so beneath the surface in some broken water. Although you'd momentarily lose sight of the fly, the rainbow would be clearly visible as it darted up to slap the fly. He probably hit the fly a half dozen times and I felt the wait for a second or two probably once or twice but then he became wise to me and stopped coming up. I'd rested him over and over but he was apparently done with me.
When the hatch dwindled to almost nothing I went upstream and fished the next few pools for a half hour or so without bringing any more fish to hand. I was getting late so I decided to head back but I couldn't help stopping by that pool. I'd had a great afternoon but I felt it would just be somehow perfectly completed if I got that last rainbow that had eluded me. First drift through his hole and up he came. It wasn't a vicious strike as he just sipped it down but he was on. Carefully I let him have his head and he darted down into the body of the pool and I gingerly brought him to hand. It's a real shame my camera died last week because although he was only eleven or twelve inches long, he was broad and bore a deeply crimson stripe - truly a pretty fish. With that I felt fantastic, as though I'd achieved near perfection. There was nothing to be achieved by fishing or catching anything else, and indeed that would somehow taint the entire experinence, so I followed the riverside trail back to my car. What a great evening and not another angler around.
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