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Old 10-17-2010, 07:23 PM
rbaileydav rbaileydav is offline
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Join Date: Mar 2009
Location: Marietta GA
Posts: 130
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Not a bad day indeed, a grand slam and from a stream that looks like this ……





The shadows were getting a little longer as I came upon a hole that I have caught large fish out of numerous times over the years. You know those places … the kind that play in the back of your mind as you are fishing up river until you began to anticipate arriving at them. The kind that years later you can just close your eyes and see the hole so perfectly that even in your imagination you know just where to cast and can see the trout rising from the depths to charge the fly. As I reached the hole I knew that it was going to be the last of the day and I wanted one last fish to end the day on. The hole looked just like I remembered it and I was practically tingling as I got into position for a cast. My first cast was a thing of beauty and landed just where I wanted it too…. but got nothing. My second cast was even longer and prettier than the first and still got nothing. I felt my stomach start to fall. The third cast was also a nice one, I know it is rare for me to get three pretty casts in a row but nevertheless it landed right where I wanted and yet again no fish. I was feeling a panic begin to set in … no fish in the honey hole How could it be. Well the fourth cast caught a gust of wind or else it was just more like my normal cast and landed about 3 feet from where I wanted … and before I could even cuss my lack of fishing expertise … … bam the stimulator dove as something ripped the little bead head soft hackle deep into the current. Fortunately the strike was strong enough to hook the fish and the fight was on. There was a log jam under the willows that the fish kept bull dogging for but the little blonde bamboo managed to turn him every time and soon enough I held a gorgeous large small-stream brown in my hands.



By the time I had released him back into my honey hole I was in a haze of contentment. I had a beautiful campsite and had caught all of the fish I needed to catch for the day and was in one of the most beautiful places in the world. I clipped the fly off amazed at my own good fortune and had a slow peaceful stroll back down the mountainside toward camp stopping only occasionally to take a few photos. All was right with the world. These mountains and this type small stream fishing always seem to make me remember that truly I am blessed. They provide me with a clarity of spirit and soul that I just can’t find anywhere else.







(Part three still to come for those of you with enough patience to hang through my long winded narratives)
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