After what seemed like an eternity (in reality a little more than 60 days), I was finally able to cast my flies into the waters one of my favourite Lower Mainland rivers, which had just recently reopened for business this past Sunday. The anticipation had been growing and I was chomping at the bit as I grabbed my waders, 2 weight fly rod and a small assortment of nymphs, and raced for the river.
The river appeared to be basically the same as it was on my previous visits, but this time an intense hatch of mayflies had brought new life and a flurry of activity to the scene. It also provided a bit of comic relief as the swallows and a variety of other birds flew about and sat perched on the tree branches, waiting to snatch each and every mayfly as soon as they hatched and took flight. I paused from my fishing to admire the accuracy and efficiency of these aerial predators and how much of an impact that they must have on the insect population in this stretch of the river.
I eventually came to my senses, refocused and returned to the task at hand. After hooking and releasing well over a dozen small and medium-sized fish, I reached a promising looking piece of water that appeared to possess all of the characteristics and qualities that are needed to attract and hold decent-sized trout: depth; flow rate; oxygen levels; broken surface; structure; and a steady stream of insects that were hatching and being swept from a riffle that was located just above the pool.
I cast one of my favourite nymphs (a heavily-weighted Czech nymph) into the tailout and gradually worked my way upriver and toward the "sweet spot" of the pool. When I finally reached my ultimate destination, I cast slightly further upstream and above the lie in order to allow sufficient time for my fly to sink into “the zone” before it made its initial pass through the most prime piece of real estate on the river.
On its first drift through the water, my leader paused on the water’s surface for a micro-second as my coiled sighter tightened ever so slightly, which telegraphed and clearly indicated that something had taken my fly. Instinctively, and without hesitation, I set the hook with an abrupt downstream snap of my fly rod. The 2-weight bent and formed a wide arch and awoke from its long winter slumber, as it pulsated with life and the reel began to sing.
I knew in an instant that this was a decent fish and would most likely take a fair bit of effort to land - given its size and strength, as well as the lightness of my tippet (7X). The height and power of the water – due to run-off and the recent, relentless rainfall – certainly didn’t help to make things easier for me.
After several spectacular leaps into the air and mad dashes upstream and then back downstream, the trout began to tire, so I gently turned its head and eased it into the slack water below my location in the river, where I was able to slip it into the confines of my soft-mesh, landing-net.
I reached down and slipped the barbless hook free of the trout’s jaws, and took a few photos to forever capture the moment before releasing it back into the icy, cold current. I couldn’t help but smile and think to myself “what a great way to start another trout season and that sometimes it IS about the fishing…”
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Topic: A Day on the River... (Read 3007 times)