Trout Lake Report: The Secret of Life

Another good trip to add to all the others this lake has so freely given.

It was another day of glorious Fall prospects in every direction. I launched at the channel again. I wanted to make one more visit to the fabled Drake Bank.

On went muddler No. 4, and I started working my way down the long shoreline.

There were no signs of fish, and I didn't move anything. Plenty of time to enjoy the beauty all around me while I got into the rhythm of casting.

Then I arrived at this nondescript stretch of shoreline. No rises, no wakes, no sign of life. I made the next cast in my rhythm tight to the bank--nothing--stripped in, made the next cast five feet ahead of the last one...and this time a head came up and engulfed the fly. Just like that. I said out loud, "You just have to find a brown." That, I have decided, is the secret of life.

And it was indeed a lovely brown, as I knew it would be.

I released it, and cast right back to the bank again. The fly landed with a splat and a big head came up and engulfed it. I couldn't believe my eyes. A second brown.

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If there were two, there might be three. I cast back and got a swirl. I started stripping like crazy and got a take. A third brown.

It couldn't happen again, could it? Yes, it could.

Four browns from the same short stretch of bank. That has never happened to me before. What other surprises does this lake have up its sleeve?

I was hesitant to leave that stretch of shoreline, but I saw a fish working back a ways in water I had already fished. I kicked back and gave it a shot. This was a hot fish, moving back and forth and taking whatever it could find. It took a few casts, but I finally put the fly in its path, and it took without hesitation. I thought it might be another brown, but it was a nice fat rainbow.

Time to keep moving. I hurried down the shoreline.

And here I was in Drake waters. Ah, the memories.

There were some rainbows coming up. They were spooky, but I enticed a couple of them to take the muddler. This is big fly water, after all; I wonder if they were remembering those big Drakes, too.

Dusk began to settle in, so I started back toward the take out. I was drifting the fly behind me when I saw a rise up against the bank, so I stopped and cast to the rise. I let the fly sit and drift in the breeze...and got a take. Another brown.

I kept going. It's a long kick along this shoreline, and by the time I got back it would be time to go. I had gotten to the lake a little earlier than usual. I enjoyed more time to fish, but the extra time in the water had turned my feet numb. I was ready to crank up the heater in the truck. The cold is coming.

Just before I kicked into the shallows where I would beach the float tube, I made one more cast along the edge of the weeds. The fly was pretty beat up--I had to false cast it awhile to get it to float. But once I had it floating, up came another head--not so big this time--and took the fly. A brown period on a brown afternoon.

Two days to go.