We've got a spring creek over here in eastern Washington, Rocky Ford Creek. It has been invading my thoughts more and more recently. It's two hours away, but it's my best shot at some bona fide fishing here in the January doldrums.
Rocky Ford Creek, at this time of year, is the kind of place that makes chironimid fishermen pee their pants in anticipation. Me, I'm thinking about swinging bead heads. It's trout we're fishing for, big trout, and it seems to me they just might be interested in a chunky morsel flitting through their lie. The very first trout I caught there--a big one--took, guess what, a muddler.
I was thinking about Rocky Ford Creek tonight and found my feet wandering over to the vise. I tied up a couple of size 10's--they might pass for chironimids, but big chironimids--and a couple of size 8's.
So now that I have some new flies, I've got to go. Right?