I got caught up in other things and didn't get to the lake until late afternoon. I decided to launch on the upper lake and make my way back to a cove I prize for its beauty, and which has also produced some nice fish in the past.
A change for a change.
It was a long paddle against a pretty stiff wind out of the south, and I trolled all the way without a touch. When I was in the cove the wind calmed. This is a cove of tall pines with a steep talus slide behind. It's shallow in the cup but has a steep dropoff along this bank.
The water was mirror-still.
Clouds banked and billowed and slid across the sky, all reflected in the calm surface.
The trout were like the clouds: elusive, insubstantial, appearing and disappearing, their rises shimmering for a moment and then gone. I cast a dry for awhile, and trolled the dropoff, but it was like trying to scoop a handful of cloud out of the water.
As dusk deepened I started trolling for the truck. I thought I'd be loading up earlier than I sometimes do. But a wind slowly picked up from the north, so again I was paddling against the wind.
And again, I caught nothing. How can you catch a cloud?
I was glad to be at the truck loading up when a squall blew through. Not a big storm, hardly any rain, but a chill wind, blue stabs of lightning, and mountain-shaking thunder.
Like the trout, it rose and was gone.