01/12/2025
One More Cast
My old truck squeaks as my tire slips off the pavement onto the gravel road that leads to the river access area. The crunching sound of the gravel underneath my tires soon gives way to the view of the river.. Only one other vehicle is here and I quickly recognize it as a fishing guide friend of mine. I know that he hasn’t even been here yet as he has a retired couple that lives on the river who shuttle his vehicle here from several miles upstream. He will show up later in his drift boat by way of the river. I am excited that I will have my choice of the best fishing spots at least for a while. I am by myself today. The few people that know me really well also know that this is what I prefer. I shut off the engine and take a long drink of my now lukewarm coffee as my eyes scan the water looking for rising fish. My gaze stops when I see a place in the river where I caught a nice rainbow the last time I was here. I shift my eyes upstream to another run and remember the second time I came here with a friend. I had a rising fish that I cast a fly to about ten times and he would not eat. I changed fly’s and cast another ten times and he still wouldn’t eat. I opened my fly box and picked out a #18 pale morning dun dry fly. I guess I’ll give this a try. The first cast he ate and quickly headed upstream. He took line and fought valiantly for a few minutes before he was brought to the net. I admired him and slowly let him swim away in the glimmering water.
My mind quickly comes back to the present as I notice a really nice rise ring just made by a fish taking a bug from the surface of the water. This is what I am here for. I make my way around to the tailgate and start gathering my gear. It seems like putting on the waders and boots is more difficult than last year. The last thing I do is assemble my fly rod. It is a split cane rod that I made myself. I made it many years ago before a trip out West to fish in Montana. It is an 8’ two piece rod that is flamed and has gold silk wraps. It has been bent by many fine fish over its lifetime. I am hoping for a few more bends today.
I quietly close the tailgate and take a long look at the river before heading upstream through a field to get into some wadeable water. The trip back down to the water’s edge is never pleasant. Briars and low hanging limbs slap me in the face as I am careful to make sure the fly rod and I arrive still in one piece.. The last few feet to the water are usually slick and I have fallen here more than once. Somehow I manage to make it to the water without a mishap. I pause and wonder when I will no longer be able to do this. The thought haunts me, so I quickly dismiss it and step into the water. I can feel the coolness of the water slipping through the waders and I step out a little deeper. I then realize it’s not just the coolness of the water, but the water itself has invaded my waders. I thought I had repaired a hole in them over the winter, but another successful attempt has gone awry. I say out loud to myself in a rather harsh voice. “Go buy you some new waders.” I promise myself that I will but also remember making that same promise last year.
I have already tied on a Caddis fly imitation before leaving the truck. I have not seen any more rises, so I decide to tie on a midge dropper about eighteen inches below my dry fly. I am thankful for the magnifiers attached to the brim of my hat. Without them I would spend way too long trying to tie the fly onto the small tippet. I am successful and start stripping out a little line preparing to make a few false casts. The cane rod is responsive and it feels so good to be casting again. After a few false casts I let my line settle to the water. I missed the seam I was aiming at and my line quickly began to drag so I threw in a quick upstream mend to get a little longer drift. I will repeat this many times over the course of the next hour before hooking and then losing a nice rainbow. The #20 zebra midge is so small and can be really tough to land the fish.
I scan the water and just watch for a while. There is such a calm peace that I experience when I am here alone. It is rare to even hear any man made sound while on this stretch of water. The occasional Crow and Osprey are usually the only sounds I hear other than the trickling of the water as it swirls slowly around my waders. My body has already adjusted to the water temp from the leaking waders. Maybe I can get another season out of these waders after all. I notice a rising fish a little farther out in the river, then another, and I see a few Caddis flys rising from the surface. I methodically move to position myself for landing a cast just upstream from where the fish last rose. I cast and watch as the fly lands a few feet upstream from the last rise. He eats another Caddis off the water just before my fly reaches him. I let my fly get several yards below him and quietly pick my line off the water and cast again. I land my fly about a foot farther out from where I want it, but the trout somehow finds it anyway and sips the fly under ever so gently. I set the hook and the fight is on. The fish here are usually good fighters and don’t come to the net easily. After nearly netting it, the feisty rainbow took one more good run before finally giving up and surrendering to the net. I snapped a couple of pics on my camera and clumsily released the fish back into the water. With a slap of his tail, he swam away quickly as if to say not today Mr fisherman, not today.
I caught nine more fish on the dry fly and two on the dropper before they quit biting, almost as if someone had turned the switch to the off position. I am already thinking about the fishing report I will send to some friends. It will actually be two reports. One will be to my younger friends who are still able to fish this river. It will contain a play by play of the fish taking the fly and all the excitement that follows. The other report will be a little more subdued for my older friends who no longer have the health and balance to fish this river. I want it to elicit good memories and not sadness for I know I too will be there soon. I move to the water’s edge and think I should call it a day. I pause and take a long look back over the river and decide just one more cast.
Mike McKinsey
1-12-2025
