Click on photos for full size image.I hiked back down the hill to the river again. Beautiful day, 64 degrees when I left home.
I haven't worn my own trail to the river bank yet, but I find that deer trails such as this one get me there eventually.
I worked the bridge run well. I worked it twice, in fact, with different flies.
I also waded in on this side of the bridge, something I used to do. Some might say it's superstition that made me want to duplicate actions that produced fish in the past. I'd say it's just playing the odds. It's probably both.
Whatever. It didn't work.
So I headed upstream to the glide. You can see how low the river is right now. I've caught trout in the past right over those rocks now high and dry.
I also worked the glide real well, and got some Whitefish bumps, and some Smallmouth bumps. The whiteys nibble; the smallies attack. I got the notice of the smallies with a stonefly nymph that I was fishing on a sink tip, as deep as I could get it.
That was encouraging, actually. It kept me on my toes. Which were cold. It is still March, and when the sun goes behind the ridge it gets chilly.
So what about the bites I got? Well, I heard an insect droning around my ear. I figured it was another of the BWO's flying around.
Then it bit me.
Couldn't be, but it was.