Sorry, Opax!

Those beautiful flies from Finland that Opax was kind enough to tie for me did not produce an American trout yesterday, but it was not for lack of trying. The flies look great in the water and I'm supremely confident that I will be taking a photo of one in a trout's mouth soon. Yesterday's fishing, however, was slow going.

It was not a day without highlights, however. My friend Matt and I hiked a good distance along this stream in Maryland and tried a lot of different flies and approaches. It was a couple hours before we even SAW a trout. At the farthest point in our excursion, Matt was crouching along the water's edge, trying to flip a fly between pretty intense brush (brush that caused us problems all day) and was startled by a fox-colored cat that snuck up on him.

Well we spent the next hour or so, walking and fishing, and that cat shadowed us the entire time. He was really cool, and periodically would go to the water's edge and seemingly point out fish for us. Of course, he was no better at finding fish than we were, but we enjoyed his company until we had to cross the stream and left him on the other side.

Having just about given up on the day, following the stream back to the cars, we noticed what looked like little fish feeding on the surface -- pretty unusual for December, at least in my limited experience. The trout we had seen all day were stuck to the bottom and not interested in moving much. So we tried some tiny dries and pretty soon I enticed this behemoth. The skunk averted with the cars in sight. We worked hard for fish yesterday, fighting briars and bushes and tangles and snags and finnecky fish, but at least we got this little beauty to show for it. And then there's our feline friend, who I hope to see again next time. Opax, I'll get that fish for you soon!

One Strike, I'm Out

I definitely feel like I learn something new every time I go fly fishing. Today's lesson: Be ready for that strike when it comes, because it might be your best and only shot at a fish that day.

Another unseasonably warm and pleasant day at the Gunpowder brought plenty of others with the same idea of spending the day on the water. Walking along the bank, about to call it a day, I scanned the water below and found a cluster of three or four very nice sized trout in a deep pool easily accessible from the other side of the river. So I backtracked, crossed over and started fishing the pool with the fly I already had on my line, a brown wooly bugger. Less than a minute later a very healthy trout took the bugger, flashed his side at me and came loose in a matter of seconds. I didn't give it any thought, assuming I'd be able to get him or one of his buddies to bite again. But it was not to happen. Wooly buggers of different colors, small nymphs, huge nymphs, dry flies, terrestrials. I took breaks and let them settle down. I smoked a cigar and just watched for a while. Nothing.

So, I don't know. Maybe my hook needs to be sharpened, those streamers bump off the bottom constantly but I've never owned or used a hook sharpener. At the beginning I lost flies so readily I assumed I'd never use one long enough to get dull. Then after that I just didn't give it any thought, until now. Not that a dull hook is the only reason a fish doesn't get hooked well enough to land, I'm sure I could have done a lot of things differently and even then, a lot of it depends on the fish, his luck and mine. But days like this make me vow to pay better attention whenever I have a fly on the water, and to pay attention to details a little better so if opportunity knocks just once, I have as good a chance as possible to answer.