We arrived at the gate to the Baldwins access and piled out of the Jeep. Getting "suited up" in our waders boots and other assorted gear is part chore and part mystic ritual but it is done full of energy and eagerness to hit the water. My brothers and I hiked silently, in file, down the narrow pathway to the South Branch. If we could of, we would have physically embraced the river like one embraces a friend one has not seen for an extended period of time.
The weather could'nt have been better! In fact one would find it hard to believe it was only springtime. It was partly cloudy, the air temp was 66 degrees ... Nice for just after lunchtime, and the river water temp was already 52 degrees. We stood at the rivers edge quietly and surveyed the waters for Hendricksens on the surface and the telltale signs of rings left by rising trout. The game was ready to commence. Mort went down stream, John entered at the rivers edge and I hiked the Mason Tract pathway to an access point up stream. Looking over the water I saw several rising trout, unhooked my fly from its keep, let out some line and let out my first cast, a sloppy one, trying to get back the feel of the rod when my first strike occurred without warning. The trout was scrappy and a quick flash showed it to be a brookie but he was only on briefly and he spit the fly, and LDR (long distance release) It's not often one gets into fish the first cast, it's an exciting event and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. There was brief disappointment, but there was a smile on my face and a famialier lightness in my heart.
I quickly surveyed my surroundings and identified several rising trout and additional areas that could hold trout. My third cast landed near a submerged log and an area where a Trout had risen and my cast was spot on. The trout came up, grabbed my offering, the hook was set and the fight was on! I brought the trout to my wetted hand. It was a nice 10" Brook Trout. While a 10" trout may not seem very large, for this small stream this was a nice fish, nicely colored with an orangish belly, white tipped fins and red spots with the circumference outlined by blue. I gently removed the hook, admired my catch ever so briefly, and released it back to it's home in the river. This was going to be a good day! Through the course of the day I caught several other trout, all browns and brookies. The afternoon Henny hatch slowed down and my last fish caught, within sight of my brother John, was a very lively 12-13 inch brown that, in spite of it's size, fought like one of it's much larger counterparts. It was a nice catch and I believe my brother enjoyed watching me catch it and much as I enjoyed landing it! This was a nice way to cap off my first day of fishing!
Tired, yet satisfied, we drove back to camp to share tales, some would say lies, around the campfire while we dined. We memorialized our departed friend Rusty "the Gator" in our conversations. The evening was topped off with fine cigars and brown water (bourbon) as we relaxed around the warmth and glow of the fire, piling logs on periodically to keep the flames alive til at last we let it die down to a bed of red hot embers. We finally trudged off to bed at a late hour to rest up in preparation for day 2 of fishing and the arrival of the rest of the gang in camp.
Categories: Fly-Fishing
