First Fish, Last Fish
Our second day of the salmon trip dawned clear, and the pile jackets felt good against the cold of the early morning. The day was to warm considerable; so much so, in fact ,that by mid-afternoon it was short-sleeve weather. As is always the case with salmon, the first hour after dawn was the best. The fish were moving and took the fly well, but an hour later, and their lips were sealed. Off and on over the course of the day a fish would default on its vow of no flies, and by the end of the day we were five and eight—eight fair hooked, five landed.
We’d gone to search a new area for this trip. It was a place that we’d fished before, but we’d not been there this season. Only a glance was enough to tell us that our prospects were bleak indeed, and so we only stayed a few minutes, and then it was off to another favorite stretch that we’d not yet fished. On the way, we walked along the only stretch of legitimate rapids in the stream, and I spotted three big kings in a pocket encompassed by a some boulders. A fish in there would be a handful; I had to try.
The line shot downstream and jerked tight. The big fish had the fly firmly, and turned to shoot off downstream. In the fast water there was nothing to do but let it run while I got into a better position. Like all big fish, it fought with its weight as much as with it muscle, and it used the current well. But the spring of the 9-weight held it against what seemed all odds, and several minutes later the big fish slide into the gravelly shallows. It was the last fish of the day; 6 of 9 exactly at 6 o’clock.
Fish 1 of day 2 just after sun up.
Last fish of day 2 that took a white Collared Leech with an orange head.