|My Dad with his first ever solo fly rod caught brown trout.|
Before my parents made their trek back to their home in the Adirondacks, my Dad and I had one last chance to fish together.
|Pink scuds are often a good choice|
With cold weather persisting and no sign of spring approaching any time soon, we made our way to a local creek that holds some beautiful wild trout that we were hoping would be hungry enough and foolish enough to eat a few of our finely dressed hooks.
Standing in forty seven degree water seemed warm considering our last trip that required us to wade and fish in near freezing water of a local tributary in search of Lake Run trout – a trip that produced no fish.
|My Dad playing a wild brown|
For the next hour or so we took turns fishing a pool that held a good fifty or so trout. The clear water made them easy to see, but agonizingly frustrating at times to try and take a fly. After several fly changes, adjustments to indicator and weight we managed to put some fish on the rod. And I am happy to say that my Dad caught his first ever solo caught trout on the fly. Even the cold wind that started to blow through every layer of clothing couldn’t convince us to leave early – There were fish to be caught, and we were doing it together!
|#16-#18 red worm patterns also catch their fare share of fish|
We ended the day with a few more fish to hand for each of us. And by then, the cold had really started to set in and the walk back to the van was welcome as it gave us some warmth.
I’m very glad that we stuck it out on this day. For some reason I seem to pick the worst times to get out on the stream when my brother and dad come in for fishing trips. They always hear me say “you should have been here last week” or “yesterday there were fish everywhere” and I can never seem to replicate those experiences when they come out with me. We made it happen though, and I’m glad we could finally put a good trip in the bag.
|Another golden brown that fell victim to a well placed fly|
Thanks for coming out with me Dad!