You finally get to the lake again. The day is warm and windy, a pageant of light and shadow.
You run the shorelines again with a muddler, and you find some fish tucked in among the willows.
In a river, if you aren't hanging up on the bottom sometimes you aren't deep enough. At a lake, if you aren't hanging up on the shoreline sometimes you aren't close enough.
You see a fish working and tie on a brand new stimulator just for a change of pace.
It takes several casts and a lot of coaxing, but you finally get the take you've been looking for. This Brown is a jumper. He jumps twice before you get the net under him.
You get some photos in the net, then pick him up and switch him around for a closeup shot with the fly, and he jumps a third time, right out of your hand into the water. You grab the leader by reflex, he gives one head shake, and he's gone--with the fly. So you crop a photo for a bogus closeup.
They fire up another prescribed burn. You make another circuit.
You're in John's Cove and a nice Brown porpoises just a few feet to your left. Unfortunately, your fly is way out in front of you. You go after him, but he won't come to the muddler. You get a small Rainbow to bite, though.
And later another small Rainbow. You're reminded that even with catch and release this is a dangerous business.
You kick up a different shoreline. You get a good hookup--some weight to it--but it comes undone for some reason.
So you have to be content with another small rainbow...
And a small Brown.
The day winds down. You fish it out, but catch no more fish.
But you've been fishing for hours, you've had a good workout--your stripping hand has a kink in it, and you're ready to call it a day.
You climb into the truck, crank it up, and then see by the dashboard clock that it's already 9:26. And tomorrow there will be even more time to fish....