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'Merica

Started by benben, July 04, 2014, 15:48:56 PM

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benben reincarnated

Early start to fishing today, early finish.  Catching came and went in spurts when there happened to be some semblance of a hatch...otherwise, a slow day.
Coolest July 4th I've ever seen.

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Had one transient rainbow show up

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The Dude

I was born by the river in a little tent,<br />And just like the river I've been running ever since,<br />It's been a long, long time coming,<br />But I know change is gonna come.

consumnfire1229

48 degrees?  I was scared to try my luck today after the hellacious amount of rain we got yesterday...Nice work!

"Thou shalt know thy waters and be wise about those things upon which thy prey doth feed."  4th Commandment of The Eleven Commandments from the Curtis Creek Manifesto

Jfey

Excellent way to celebrate.

Yup, going fishing

Dougfish

Nice day, Ben. Decent water levels!

It's been cool the last two mornings here, but wow.


benben reincarnated


Quote from: Dougfish on July 05, 2014, 06:47:00 AM

Nice day, Ben. Decent water levels!
It's been cool the last two mornings here, but wow.

This stream gets afternoon thunderstorms almost daily.  Whereas my house, I haven't had a decent rain in over a month.

It was 51 at my house the morning.  I imagine the national forest was in the mid 40s at a minimum.


Transylwader

Shit sakes, those water levels look dire. It was terrible last weekend, despite the rain. I see you fish with Brett Favre quite a bit. I am hanging up East side bluelining for the next 6 weeks.

Headed to the marsh and then the surf for DONKEYS /'/

MURICA!


bmadd


Aka

Quote from: Transylwader on July 05, 2014, 09:09:25 AM

Shit sakes, those water levels look dire. It was terrible last weekend, despite the rain. I see you fish with Brett Favre quite a bit. I am hanging up East side bluelining for the next 6 weeks.
Headed to the marsh and then the surf for DONKEYS /'/
MURICA!

It's true, I'm Brett Favre's cock shot texting stunt double.

I brought my point and shoot camera along this time. I feel I've been harassed enough by the dude and others about iPhone pictures and was trying to up my game a bit. Alas, I don't have a way to upload them to the iPad so they'll have to wait.

As it was I woke up early and tried to move quietly and quickly so not to wake the girls. I had, as I usually do, put my gear in the car, prepared my stream lunch and set my clothes out in the living room the night before. I do this so I wont be banging around the house at 5am waking everyone up. Breakfast was made, smoked bacon from the Fresh Market, a fresh egg from the hen house fried up in butter and a piece of toasted rosemary and olive oil bread. All washed down with a travel mug filled with Peet's French roast.

I was in the car and on the road by 5:25am. I would be early to the rendezvous point but didn't mind, the tranquil serenity of the crisp morning air put me in a not often reached state of mind. I had been driving for 30 minutes when the sun began to give first light. It was at this point I meet with the highway that the elevation gain is made on. Here I began to notice an impressive amount of insects on the wing, either in search of  a mate or in-route to deposit eggs. So peaceful the morning, it gave me pause to reflect on this continuation of a most crucial life cycle to the fly angling fisherman. Then, as if compelled by the rawness of what I was paying witness to, with bow pointed towards the flow of time, I leaned into the inevitability of all things and accepted my place in it.

I pulled off the road where the morning dew was left to its fate upon blades of grass unattended by man or machine. Breakfast and coffee were riding low. Paying homage to the primitive morning I made haste to the woods. Participation in the circle of life complete I returned to the car to rig up. Ben arrived as I was getting the kit together and we were soon on the trail.

I was thankful to be in pursuit of native brook trout and not stocked fish which I despise. Angling for these remnants of ice age travelers with a fly rather than a lure (or worse yet a worm) is not a choice but rather a resolve to treat the speckled beauties with the respect they deserve. As has been said, "the fishing was excellent but the catching was piss poor". I secretly built stone shrines made of river rocks stacked upon themselves in gravity defying formations hoping for a blessing from the brook trout gods. It wasn't until more than an hour into our expiation that I landed my first catch.

With a cast stretching out behind me I stopped my arm. Before the line could make itself straight I brought the rod forward at  high speed. I knew where I want my fly to land. As the line passed over me, now looping out in front, I stop my arm again and watched as the loop passed along the line until it is no more and the fly alights upon the waters surface. A pregnant pause ensues and then from the bottom of the pool driven by its need to feed or be food the fish strikes hard at my hopper, not the dropper.

We spent the rest of the day fishing up the stream and hiked out mid afternoon. A fantastic way to pass the 2014th birthday of this great nation.

AKAaron


benben reincarnated


Quote from: AK Aaron on July 05, 2014, 15:05:29 PM

Quote from: Transylwader on July 05, 2014, 09:09:25 AM

Shit sakes, those water levels look dire. It was terrible last weekend, despite the rain. I see you fish with Brett Favre quite a bit. I am hanging up East side bluelining for the next 6 weeks.
Headed to the marsh and then the surf for DONKEYS /'/
MURICA!

It's true, I'm Brett Favre's cock shot texting stunt double.

I brought my point and shoot camera along this time. I feel I've been harassed enough by the dude and others about iPhone pictures and was trying to up my game a bit. Alas, I don't have a way to upload them to the iPad so they'll have to wait.

As it was I woke up early and tried to move quietly and quickly so not to wake the girls. I had, as I usually do, put my gear in the car, prepared my stream lunch and set my clothes out in the living room the night before. I do this so I wont be banging around the house at 5am waking everyone up. Breakfast was made, smoked bacon from the Fresh Market, a fresh egg from the hen house fried up in butter and a piece of toasted rosemary and olive oil bread. All washed down with a travel mug filled with Peet's French roast.

I was in the car and on the road by 5:25am. I would be early to the rendezvous point but didn't mind, the tranquil serenity of the crisp morning air put me in a not often reached state of mind. I had been driving for 30 minutes when the sun began to give first light. It was at this point I meet with the highway that the elevation gain is made on. Here I began to notice an impressive amount of insects on the wing, either in search of  a mate or in-route to deposit eggs. So peaceful the morning, it gave me pause to reflect on this continuation of a most crucial life cycle to the fly angling fisherman. Then, as if compelled by the rawness of what I was paying witness to, with bow pointed towards the flow of time, I leaned into the inevitability of all things and accepted my place in it.

I pulled off the road where the morning dew was left to its fate upon blades of grass unattended by man or machine. Breakfast and coffee were riding low. Paying homage to the primitive morning I made haste to the woods. Participation in the circle of life complete I returned to the car to rig up. Ben arrived as I was getting the kit together and we were soon on the trail.

I was thankful to be in pursuit of native brook trout and not stocked fish which I despise. Angling for these remnants of ice age travelers with a fly rather than a lure (or worse yet a worm) is not a choice but rather a resolve to treat the speckled beauties with the respect they deserve. As has been said, "the fishing was excellent but the catching was piss poor". I secretly built stone shrines made of river rocks stacked upon themselves in gravity defying formations hoping for a blessing from the brook trout gods. It wasn't until more than an hour into our expiation that I landed my first catch.

With a cast stretching out behind me I stopped my arm. Before the line could make itself straight I brought the rod forward at  high speed. I knew where I want my fly to land. As the line passed over me, now looping out in front, I stop my arm again and watched as the loop passed along the line until it is no more and the fly alights upon the waters surface. A pregnant pause ensues and then from the bottom of the pool driven by its need to feed or be food the fish strikes hard at my hopper, not the dropper.

We spent the rest of the day fishing up the stream and hiked out mid afternoon. A fantastic way to pass the 2014th birthday of this great nation.

AKAaron

X 2

Dougfish

"Breakfast and coffee were riding low. Paying homage to the primitive morning I made haste to the woods. Participation in the circle of life complete I returned to the car to rig up."

And:

"Here I began to notice an impressive amount of insects on the wing, either in search of  a mate or in-route to deposit eggs. So peaceful the morning, it gave me pause to reflect on this continuation of a most crucial life cycle to the fly angling fisherman. Then, as if compelled by the rawness of what I was paying witness to, with bow pointed towards the flow of time, I leaned into the inevitability of all things and accepted my place in it."

Brett is a philosophical genius.  'c;


itieuglyflies

Never was taking a shit made to sound so romantic...


Michael Toris

A-A-ron, I enjoyed that quite a bit. Funny stuff mayne


raz

very nice all 'round


Big J

Haha, Aaron, that beats any pictures from the trip. Did you break down and get a tg-2?



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