You're back at the lake the very next day hoping to ride the wave of success from the day before.
It's another windy day, and the sun is hot.
You start with a quasi-hopper, but then go with a bright caddis nymph under an indicator. You catch weeds and reeds at first.
But the inlet fingerlings give you some action.
You see some big birds circling. At first you think they're crows.
Then you decide they're nighthawks. You wonder if this is an indication of flocking before an early migration, but you can't confirm that in research. It reminds you to appreciate the swallows while they're here. They usually make their exit in August.
The south wind switches to a north wind. You go back to the hopper and look for bigger fish where you found them yesterday. They aren't there today.
You slash a muddler across the riffles for awhile as the sun dips behind the mountain.
Then the wind dies down.
You go back to the nymph/indicator rig. Again, it's the little guys who want to play. You gotta love 'em.
You work your way over to the take out side. The beavers are quickly changing the shoreline here. You work a muddler along a length of it, and the only things you get a rise out of are a couple of beavers.
You wait again for an evening/dusk/night rise, but it is not to be.
You had hoped that those two good fish the day before were a sign that things were turning a corner.
Guess it was just a roundabout.