The lake on Friday evening was quiet. The light was muted and the water was still. But there was hustle and bustle on the road as hunters rattled and rolled in for the opening of deer season on Saturday.
The fish were quiet too, at first. Rises were few, and the fish seemed wary. An eagle hit the water across the lake, sending up a high sparkling spray. It flew over me, an Osprey scolding and darting at it, and there was a fish who hadn't been wary enough clutched in its talons.
I watched for opportunities, like the eagle, and dropped a little emerger near a sudden rise and caught this beautiful Brown. The eagle was perched in a tree eating his fish as I released mine.
My opportunities were sparse, the rises widely scattered and always, it seemed, in water I had passed through already. Midges were swirling in the air around me, and many were on the water. Where were the fish?
Then, at dusk, it was time, and the hustle and bustle began as fish started taking the midges. I paddled toward a noisy pod and found myself in the middle of hungry, eager trout. I had tied on a white-winged mayfly pattern, and they took it willingly as often as I could get it on the water before darkness descended.
As I paddled in, the lights of an occasional truck or camper still passed by on the road, and behind me I could hear an occasional rise. But I was ready to take a break from the hustle and bustle of the day.