The day is a little more like July, and hopper time.
You're drawn back to the north end.
On the last trip you never used a muddler. Today you won't use anything but. The purple didn't work the last time you fished it. Time to give it another chance.
It's breeeezy again.
But fish are active. The purple quickly earns its keep.
You fish around past the inlet and kick across.
You drifted the purple behind you on the way over, so you give it a chance to dry out and switch to a fresh muddler.
You work down the east shoreline.
You still don't find fish where you expect them to be. You find one, though, where you didn't expect it to be.
You won't give up on this stretch. You're confident it will come alive in due time.
You fish around to the inlet again.
There are fish around, and you hook a few, but they shake off. Getting one to the net is a small victory.
Most of the fish are of the smaller variety. You hope the big Browns will get back from their summer vacation pretty soon.
You're enjoying yourself, though, playing with the smaller fish.
You get another fish in the net and realize you've caught more fish today than on the last few trips combined. That's good.
Still, it's like pulling teeth.
At dusk you start to kick slowly back to the take out across open water. You keep the muddler on and wake it lazily behind you. You get another fish.
You take your sweet time as the sky darkens and the moon brightens.
The rod jerks and something makes a long run. You think maybe you've found another marauding Brown. It turns out to be a foul hooked Rainbow.
You're happy to have it, but it makes you think that the overall experience of catching this fish was just like July has been: just a little off.