Trout Lake Report: One More Day

You want another look at the inlet. It's a fine August afternoon.

The lake is that rich organic soup of high summer.

The level is down some more. Reeds stand tall.

The inlet is shallow and weedy. You find a few fingerlings still hanging out there. They're all over the golden muddler.

You fish down the shoreline working the weed beds and find a few more baby trout, but your eyes are on the deep water in the shadow of the mountain.

You look back at the inlet shoreline. This will be the last time you fish there for awhile.

You move out of sunlight into shadow.

A better fish comes up for the muddler.

You move over the water plying the muddler. There are fish rising here and there. You get some hits and misses. You get some brief hookups.

Then you get a hookup that holds until you bring the fish to the net.

You keep going, working your way toward the far bank.

Here, where you fished for drakes in May and June, you switch to a nymph under an indicator. You go deep, hoping for a lunker.

You get a feisty little trout hoping to grow up to be a lunker.

You have a long kick back, so you tie on the golden muddler and head out, drifting it behind you.

You get some bumps, and another brief hookup, and then all is calm.

One more day at the lake comes to an end.

Trout Lake Report: Just a Roundabout

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.

Trout Lake Report: There's Always August

The last day of July is gusty and blustery. You wait until it calms a little before heading to the lake.

It's still windy when you get there, but the north end is sheltered. You fish a muddler along the leaf-littered shoreline.

You aim for the inlet. The weather has cooled again--this is the most changeable July you can remember--but you still think the colder water of the inlet is the best bet for mid-summer fishing. You think the osprey agrees with you.

There are fish around the inlet, and they want the muddler, but they're troutlings. You have to hand it to them, though. This one hit the fly so hard he flipped head over pectoral into the air.

The wind is blowing somewhere else at the moment, so you change tactics and hang a nymph under an indicator out along the weed beds.

That brings a slightly bigger fish.

And then a better one yet.

Action slows. You enjoy fishing through your nymph selection to see what might work.

A breeze has come back and is swirling from every direction. You kick back over toward the take out looking for sheltered water. 

You don't find it, and the breeze grows into an insistent wind, the famous night wind of this lake. You fish awhile, just in case, but the catching is over.

Still, it was a good way to close out July.

And there's always August.