You open August at the north end again. You rig up with an indicator right away. The day feels nymphy.
But you fish across to the inlet without getting a single bump.
Here in the cold channel, though, a deep nymph brings a decent fish.
While you're releasing it, you see a splashy rise right in the neck of the inlet. It moves a lot of water.
This looks like a big job for a big fly. You tie on the quasi-hopper, grease it good, and cast it down the throat of the inlet. It splashes down, bobs up, and a fish hammers it. You horse it out into open water. It resists with all its strength. You hope it's a Brown, but you're happy with 18 inches of jacked up Rainbow. It's in beautiful condition for mid-summer.
You range on down the shoreline to another favorite spot. You've caught some giant Browns in here in the past, and recent trips have roused a small Rainbow or two.
You cast the hopper right up against the willows and driftwood, give it a twitch, and another Rainbow hammers it. It's not as big as the last one, but it's bigger than what you've found here recently.
You're ready for more, but all you can find now are wannabe's. They're everywhere.
You kick out into the weeds to fish pocket water. A preoccupied beaver swims within five feet of you before he sees the tube. You don't know he's there until he explodes right behind you. Now you're awake.
You fish dries and nymphs around the weeds, with no success.
You kick back to the take out trailing a muddler behind you.
One more Rainbow comes to your fly. It's as though you hooked a piece of the evening sky.
At dark the lake is still. You wait to see if fish will rise.
But the fish are still, too.