After striking out at the north end, you launch in the channel and head back to the drake grounds. You hope the hatch is still happening there.
It's late afternoon of another hot day. Feels good. And even though you're getting to the lake at 5:00, you still have five hours of daylight ahead of you. You love these long days.
You follow the pattern and begin with a muddler.
Where the first shadows of the evening have touched the shoreline you find a hungry rainbow.
You arrive at the reed lines and set up with a drake dry. You're happy to see a few drakes riding the breeze.
You see a rise over by the willows and set the fly down where he can see it, and he takes it. Good to be fishing the drake hatch again.
The breeze drops and all is calm.
The drakes are sparse, but if you find a riser, and if you place the fly at the right place at the right time, you'll get lucky. Nothing big, but still jacked up with drake fever.
You have to face facts, though. The hatch is slowing down. Things get quiet sooner than you'd like. You switch to the muddler again and begin to work your way back. You take your time.
You see something working the willows hard. You haven't proven it empirically, but you have a theory based on preliminary observation that aggressive fish will leap out of the water to literally "beat the bushes" for mayflies resting on the leaves and branches.
You drop the muddler in close with a splat and an excited brown is all over it. These fish are still fighting hard and require care to get into the net.
At dusk you get one more fish, a rainbow working late.
You know how it is. You've been enjoying working late, too.
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