Trout Lake Report: Not This Time

You're out on the north end again. You're observing the day to day changes in the life of the lake, as you have been doing since the beginning.

The day is hot and calm. You fish a quasi-hopper all the way around past the inlet. You find one fish working in the shade. You show it the hopper. It doesn't bite. You begin a seductive strip, and five feet from the tube it breaks on the fly. It's beautiful: it comes from left to right and nails the hopper; when it feels the hook it reverses and jumps from right to left. It hangs there in the air glittering in the sunlight...and when it comes down with a great splash it has thrown the hook. Kudos, trout.

You cut across to the other side. The shallows are filling up with weeds.

So is open water. These plants may be ten feet long. In past years, as weeds rise and water lowers, weed beds are created that in turn form "pocket water" in which one may find large fish, especially of the Brown variety, sporting about. You look forward to that possibility.

No large fish on this day. The east shoreline holds only small fish with large aspirations.

At the end of the shoreline you decide on a change.

You've seen a few cinnamon ants again. You just happen to have a couple of newly tied ant flies. It's the same recipe as used on the Henry's Fork--which these trout seemed to reject on a recent trip--but these are smaller and neater.

You cut back across toward the inlet, working the ant.

You get an enthusiastic take out of nowhere. This kid liked the new fly.

You go on a ways and see a faint rise. Then another. A chain riser. It's moving away from you. You lay the fly out on a line bisecting the rises and hope it will come back. It does. It just kisses the fly and you hook him. The best fish of the day, and another vote for the new ant.

You want to do that again. A breeze has kicked up, though, and you can't see any rises in the riffles. 

You head over to the inlet.

The breeze is swirling. You don't see any rises here, either. You switch to a caddis--easier to see--and entice some little fish to eat it.

After awhile, the action slows. You start back to the open water off the take out, trailing the caddis behind.

The sunset is lighting up.

You kick slowly across, enjoying the show.

You wait until dark, hoping that the breeze might leave and the fish might light up.

Not this time.