The substrate was the proverbial "pea-sized" (suitable for spawning) gravel where it wasn't muck, there was a small fish ladder on the earthen dam, and a handful of 10-inch trout (I won't even mention the scores of three-inchers) kissing the surface. Maybe that indicates it's a wild fish nursery, which means the parents have to come up sometime...
A cup of wine drew us back to camp after giving what we felt was an appropriate effort.
I don't know the truth about this place, and I wonder if anyone does. I'm starting to suspect that some old-timer has dumped a bucket of red herring into the fly-fishing gossipshere.
Every once in a while a fishery proves more than a rumor, and other times it's my own inability, poor choices, and quick temper that make it seem merely rumor. Timing is almost always a factor - daily or seasonally, and the fussy nature of trout can't be discounted.
Excuses, though. We'll continue on, until the next whisper blows through...
I don't know the truth about this place, and I wonder if anyone does. I'm starting to suspect that some old-timer has dumped a bucket of red herring into the fly-fishing gossipshere.
Every once in a while a fishery proves more than a rumor, and other times it's my own inability, poor choices, and quick temper that make it seem merely rumor. Timing is almost always a factor - daily or seasonally, and the fussy nature of trout can't be discounted.
Excuses, though. We'll continue on, until the next whisper blows through...
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