How did I get here? I guess leaving the truck loaded with everything ready to go helped make it possible to somehow find myself at the lake again. That, and these willing little trout are addictive.
I fished exclusively on top, because the fish were still there. I used some tiny flies; then, when they got hopelessly slimed, tied on this big bushy Adams. The first time a fish hit it I set and he let go and the fly ended up high in the willows behind me. I was able to break off the branch and retrieve it.
Good thing. I fished it the rest of the time I was there, and anytime it moved those fish were on it.
I enjoyed a break again. The woods aren't dark or deep, but they're lovely. I find the solitude at this far side of the lake up against the foot of the mountain to be lovely, too.
I noticed a midge swarm overhead. I'm glad these little fish are risers, but credit goes to the midges who give them something to rise to.
The midges kept hatching, the fish kept rising, and I kept catching and releasing them, in a zen-like state of harmonious perpetual motion.
Of course, I couldn't stay there forever. I am also a physical being, tethered to the prosaic, and I was drawn back to earth by hunger and cold feet, and the desire for the comforts of home and family.
But I went home with a satisfied soul, for I know that the sun will rise tomorrow--and so will the trout.