On this day, I found wind. That, in one word, is the story of the Spring.
So I blew down the road to another nearby lake with a little more shelter at its north end.
I found some small Rainbows rising on the edge of a shallow flat. With the help of the wind this time I was able to cast out to the dropoff with a beadhead nymph and catch a handful of these.
That was diversion, but I needed therapy. So as soon as I could I took a couple of trips to what I call "my" lake. It's where I spend most of my fishing time, and, well, we have a relationship. It was over a weekend, a time I usually avoid because of the crowding. But sometimes you gotta go when you gotta go.
The campgrounds were full, so full that my usual put ins for the canoe were unavailable. So I went down to the south end where the put in is more public, not connected with a campsite.
This is a great section, and I have spent many summer hours here with the float tube and a selection of Stimulators. I have had great moments here, but this is also where I have been beat down and humbled. On one day, two trout--couldn't have been the same one messing with me, could it?-- almost spooled me with freight train runs before breaking off.
It was good to get on this section earlier than I might have otherwise. And the wind calmed both times as evening fell. Amazing.
And the fish were there. All the rises compelled me to go up top for awhile with a Griffith's Gnat and even a little Bluewinged Olive--I'm sure I saw one or two in the blizzard of midges, but I caught fish on the trusty beadhead.