It's a pretty afternoon, much warmer than recent days. On the drive up, the creeks are still running high through last year's burn zone.
The north end access is accessible. You kick out.
You have another muddler tied up for the day. On it goes.
The story of the day is the wind. It's pushing hard out of the south.
You find a victim of the wind struggling in the waves. A Cecropia moth, a little washed out but still beautiful. You scoop it up, let it dry a bit, kick in as close to shore as you can get and toss it into the willows. It finds a purchase, hangs on tight and flutters in the wind. Perhaps it will complete it's life cycle.
You're heading for "the inlet." This year it seems the entire west shoreline is an inlet.
Just before you get there a little fish hits the muddler. It jumps all the way into the net.
At the inlet you suddenly see a couple of splashy rises. Maybe this will be a special place again this season.
You plop the muddler down near the action and get another small fish on the strip.
You kick across and head back down toward the access. You work the shoreline carefully but the fish activity is nil.
The wind is backing off, so you begin the circuit again.
Along the north shore another youngster tackles the muddler.
You work the west side carefully while memories of big fish pulled out of this water drift through your mind.
Back at the inlet you get a whack of a hit. It feels like a good fish, but it's a decent fish that has foul hooked itself. Ouch.
Suddenly it's evening and a few fish are rising sporadically here and there. You begin to kick back across open water toward the access hoping to intercept some risers along the way. Just for the heck of it, you tie on a new green humpy.
You see small pods of fish chain rising. They must be taking midges. The humpy is too big. They keep moving away from you.
But you chase them anyway, drop the humpy in the right place at the right time, and a fat little fish takes it hungrily. A small victory, but of such are good fishing days made.
That's it. It's close to dark when you climb out of the float tube.The wind is picking up again.
This lake is famous for its night winds. You take one last look at the lake and hope the great moths will be able to rise on the winds into the darkness and to their destiny, each one a small victory.