The heat wave has settled in. It's over 100 degrees when you head for the lake.
You're back at the channel. You fling a damsel dry for awhile, but the fish are keeping to themselves.
Still, you find it relaxing to look for them here and there, and you're enjoying the beauty of the summer lake, and the transformation of the light from afternoon to evening.
When the west shoreline is in shadow you switch to a pretty stimulator. Sometimes you're in the mood for a stimulator.
You start down the willow line exploring for fish. Things stay slow. The only "rise" you see is caused by a beaver who blundered too close and panic-slapped the surface.
As usual, though, you're enjoying the activity of fishing. The beauty around you keeps changing.
You feel things crawling on your neck: damsel nymphs. You think about fishing a damsel nymph fly, but you don't have any with you. And you really don't want to, anyway. You like what you're doing.
You kick across to the eastern shoreline.
A damselfly lands on your hand. You wonder how the midge got there at the same time, but when the midge moves and the damselfly grabs it, you decide that the damselfly brought it along. It appears to be eating the hapless midge, but you brush it off before it finishes.
You're still enjoying the fishing, but you would be happy to have a little catching, too.
You finally see a fish working the willows with jumps and splashes. You get the fly inside some overhanging willows, and the fish takes it like a breaching whale. It's jacked up, and doesn't give in without a fight.
That felt good.
You hang out in the channel while dusk falls. Bats are thick, nighthawks are calling, and ducks whoosh overhead.
A fish is jumping in the willows by the take out, and you see damselflies still hovering over the surface. So you tie on a damsel dry by the last of the light and cast blind into the shoreline for awhile.
No luck. You reel in and hook the fly in the keeper on the rod. Now you'll have a damsel ready to go the next time you come back.
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