You gear up with a fresh quasi-hopper for another turn around the north end.
The weather seems more stable this evening.
Things are pretty straightforward; you lay the hopper out along the shoreline and see if a fish will eat it. Eventually one does.
There are small fish playing around the inlet and in the reeds. You get their attention, but you don't get them--at least this time around.
You cross the border of sunlight and shadow into open water.
A good Rainbow plucks the hopper off the surface as it wakes by.
You head back to the inlet.
It's a fingerling fiesta there.
The sun sinks and the shadows rise.
A teen trout muscles the kids aside and claims the hopper for his own.
You drift the hopper behind you as you kick back to the take out. You're thinking you might work a little caddis or something over the weed beds there, if conditions are right.
But once you get there, the conditions aren't quite right, if by that you mean no fish are rising. And you haven't changed flies all evening. Doesn't seem right to change now and start over. Besides, the evening as it stands now feels just right. Seems like it's time to go home. Right?