The first day was a peak experience, but much more draining on my middle-aged body than I'd counted on. Also, between 4:00 and 5:40 on the first day, we'd passed pocket after pocket of absolutely gorgeous water. It seemed a shame not to fish it...
So we abandonned our original plan to fish Big Run, and came up with a simple alternative. The next morning we'd walk down the trail we'd walked up the day before...and continue downstream a couple of tenths of a mile, just to be sure we got ahead of anyone else. Then nymph each pocket as we worked downstream. Some time around mid day, switch to dries, and fish back. This way we didn't have to worry about where we were, or how far we'd have to walk to get out.
It seemed like a sensible plan, and unlike many seemingly sensible fishing plans, it worked like a dream.
The nymphing was hot... The first pocket I tried was fairly small, but riffled, and about knee deep. The first cast triggered a strike (but the fish got off - I confess I was a little slow setting the hook, I'm terribly superstitious about catching a fish on the first cast, it always seems to lead to a stinker day).
Two other fish followed...one zoomed across almost two feet of water to hit my nymph as it drifted through the center of the pocket.
Action pretty much kept up like that all morning. There were some beautiful deep pools, but they were dead...I never raised anything. But any water that was slightly riffled, about knee depth, would deliver strike after strike.
I call it snapshot fishing. I'll start by prospecting...testing a lot of different water (pools, runs, riffles, etc.) to see if I get any action. Any time I get a strike, I make a mental snapshot of where the fish was holding. SOMETIMES, you'll end up with several, very different snapshots. But usually, I find, there's pretty much one snapshot that works.
I then zero in, and fish only to new spots that match my mental snapshot(s). It means you pass up a lot of water...but it also means you get nearly constant action from the few spots you do fish.
My friend Simon isn't quite as obsessive about this as I am. He kept trying to catch fish in the big pools...and they were so unbelievably gorgeous, that I don't blame him. He tried nymphs, streamers, and whatever, and was pretty much skunked, getting frustrated watching me pull out fish after fish. Anyway, he got his revenge in the afternoon.
But that morning was a dream. Though by around 12:30 it started to slow down (a bit). Then a fish hit my indicator (it's one of those sticky press on foam things...orange). I took that as a sign that dry fly fishing was in order, and tied on an elk-hair caddis with tan wings and a dark body. This started taking fish on the second cast, and I pretty much stayed with this fly all afternoon.
I yelled to Simon that I had switched to dries. He tied on a fat Goddard caddis, which was his mainstay.
Now the big pockets held fish that would rise to our flies.
For some reason, the BIGGER fish seemed to like Simon's Goddard more than Elk Hair. We took turns fishing pools. Once, after I'd covered some water, Simon cast into the same pool and raised an 11" brookie. Another time, I decided to pass up a smaller pocket, and Simon pulled out a 10". Until the very end of the day, I don't think I caught anything larger than 7", but Simon had a bunch around 9".
It was amazing how much easier it was to bushwhack over the streambed when you weren't worried about getting out. No doubt there was a practice effect as well, but instead of feeling exhausted, I felt stronger as the day went on. The scrambles over boulders which had seemed so intimidating the afternoon before, now seemed straight-forward.
Bottom line: we fished all day, right up to about 6 PM. We were continuing to catch fish after fish. And we didn't see another fisherman until we were back on the trail heading home. A wonderful day.
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