Trout Lake Report: The State of the Drakes

It's another cool day. That doesn't stop the wildflowers. Bright yellow ones have added their splash of color to the mix. they're called Blanket Flowers, but your name for them is Brown Trout Bellies.

Your plan is to go back down the Drake Bank to see how the hatch is doing. The campground has thinned out so you launch at an open access on the north end of the channel. That will shorten up your travel distance a bit.

Along with the cool temperatures come wind and roaming showers. You're ready for anything.

The sun breaks out now and then. What a tease.

You snag your BD Muddler in the fallen pine, a victim of last season's fire, and a new landmark along the shoreline.

You work your way along, past Reedy Bay, down to the end. You see some Drakes, but nothing is moving.

A little hot coffee and a snack help keep the chill at bay.

You go on around the bend and fish along the west side. At the swallow holes you catch the first fish.

Down here there are Drakes in the air and some fish rising. As raindrops begin to fall you cast the muddler into the shoreline, strip it out--and get a hard pull. You set the hook on a very nice Brown. You play it carefully--it wants to run and go deep into the weeds. You're pretty sure you've got it ready to net. You bring it in, you're reaching out with the net, and the fish looks you in the eye and goes ballistic. Sometimes a fish does that, and if you hold firm for a second or two it will quit, and you can scoop it up. This fish would not quit. And so the inevitable happened: he broke off and took the fly with him.

You tie on a Drake dry and go on down the west shoreline past the landslide.

It's raining harder now.

Another fisherman has rowed down and joined you on the west shoreline. You kick out and around him on your way back to the Drake Bank.

A nice Rainbow takes the fly as it drifts behind you.

You go around the bend and start working back up toward Reedy Bay. Rain squalls come and go, and the wind gets colder.

The Nighthawks are back, again amazing you with their aerial displays.

The fishing is slow, and you see only a few Drakes. You get some hits, but precious few hookups.

Only one more fish comes to the net. Still, the conditions are far from ideal. This was not the best evening for making an assessment of the hatch.

More data will be required in the quest to determine the state of the Drakes.

That's OK with you.

Trout Lake Report: A Brown To Warm Your Heart

The day is rainy and cool. I get away as soon as I can but I only have a couple of hours to fish.

The north lake campground is deserted so I launch from there. I tie on muddler No. 3. The rain quits for now.

I turn my back on the south lake this time...

...and head north.

The lake is very quiet. I haven't seen a rise yet. I'm casting into the pocket water in the remaining weed beds. I'm stripping when, out of nowhere, a hit. The fish jumps--I can see it's a nice brown--then jumps again, and again, and again. When it comes down the fourth time it's off the fly and gone. Wow. All I can do is shake my head.

I'm disappointed but encouraged. I keep heading north, fishing the pocket water.

I go a long way without moving a single fish.

I turn and begin to make my way back south. I'm thinking the channel might be a good place to explore.

I keep on casting and stripping.

Then, on the strip, a hit. There's no way to tell for sure, but my first thought--and my fondest wish--is that I've come back and hooked that leaping brown again. This time it doesn't jump, and I get it into the net. Whether I've seen it before or not, it's a brown to warm your heart on a chilly day.

I go to the channel and poke around. I raise two rainbows, but they don't commit. I see an eagle rise out of the shadow of the ridge, and a second follows. It's the resident pair. They fly down into a tall tree and call back and forth, their cries echoing off the rock face.

I'd forgotten how fast it gets dark when it's overcast. I head back to the truck, pack up in the dark and start for home through a light rain.

Three days left.

Trout Lake Report: The Healing Has Begun

It rains all night after the beat down by the big fish, and it rains off and on the next day. You come in under the clouds in late afternoon.

The world is glittering and fragrant.

You launch at an abandoned campsite closer to the drakes.

You tied up a fresh drake muddler in an attempt at a fresh start.

Down the shoreline to the drake grounds.

You plumb the shallows with the muddler.

A rainbow comes out.

The clouds make borders around the ridges.

You fish the reed lines with a drake dry. You bear the sad memories.

 The drakes are spotty, but there's a fish in there.

The rain comes back.

You find another small rainbow, but the drakes stay low and slow.

You stick it out and stick one more fish.

The rain stops, and you do, too. Slow evening. You think you'd rather hook a big one and lose it than not hook one at all.

The healing has begun.