After only getting one trip to the river during the month of April, I was long overdue to get my line wet and hook some fish. So, after cramming a weekend's worth of responsibilities into Saturday, I was free to head up to the river Sunday.
The weather forecast was calling for cooler temps, and rainy conditions - but this wasn't going to stop me - I needed a fix, and I needed it badly. It's the perfect way to unplug and steer clear of all of the spoon-fed ideals of the material world, and is just the thing to keep me from winding up naked, in a bell tower, with a high-powered rifle.
Loss of sanity aside, Sunday turned out to be quite the perfect day (for the most part), with mild temps, partly cloudy skies and plenty of fish in the river. What more could you ask for? Flows in Cheeseman Canyon were up quite a bit - the water was off-color, cold and deep, making sight-fishing a bit more challenging, especially when the clouds rolled in. Time to break out the long-cast.
Right out of the gates, I hooked a nice sized fish - which subsequently broke my line and stole my fly. I know better - I should change out my line before I start a new day of fishing, but I don't. I end up using the same line from the last outing, which more than likely has enough nicks and scratches to make a Sadist smile in approval.
So I rigged up again at the edge of the water, and went at it, hooking myself a nice rainbow that was brilliantly colored. The run that I pulled him out of had several fish stacked up in it, and I went back to that well one more time in the hopes of pulling another out - but it was slow going. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to hook myself a nice brown. Yeah, that feels good.
Moving up a few paces, I began fishing another seam of deep, fast water - there were fish parked low and they were active, moving all over like a bunch of preschoolers on a sugar high. Running my line through this run, I managed to foul-hook one, which left a bad taste in my mouth. I hate doing that. Foul-hooking fish, that is....not preschoolers.
For the next few hours, the fishing was slow for me - I could not buy a hit. Fortunately, about this time, a guy came down river and we started talking about the canyon, fish, flies etc. and it helped pass the time. Pulling his line in the riffles on the other side of the river, he hooked into a nice fish which was easily 20+ inches. Even if I'm not catching anything, it's just as exciting to watch others hook some pigs, especially someone as nice as this guy was. Just wish I would have got his name and the URL of his blog.
After a bit, the fishing picked up again, and I wound up hooking five more before the day was out. One snapped my line, but the others weren't so lucky.
Out of the four that I netted, one rainbow in particular put up one helluva fight - taking out quite a bit of my line and refusing to give in. He was average, but he sure fought like he was a behemoth, pulling me first down the river, then back up, and finally settling low in a run on the opposite side of the river where I had to work to get him out. And by work, I mean I had to get out into the river and coax this guy out. In high, fast water, that's a chore. Plus, I had left my net on shore next to my gear - yeah, I'm a TOOL.
Around 2:30 in the afternoon, the weather started to turn for the worse and, having netted 6 fish (7 if you count the foul-hook), I decided to call it a day. A very good day and one that was well worth the wait.