I've been doing a bit of motivational reading of late, with the motivators being several fly fishing blogs written by fly fisherman who actually know how to fly fish. Not being one of them, (the knowing what you're doing part), I did however decide to forego a boating morning to get down the ultra-lite fly rod from it's summer resting place and have a go at some brook trout in a local spot.
After about a 25 minute hike in I came to the head of the brook in a dark area dappled by some sunlight underneath a canopy of evergreens. The small pool looked inviting and my first cast resulted in a slight hit on the fly. Another cast , another hit but nothing more after that. Clearly whatever was there was not going to be fooled again.
Working my way down stream I had several more hits with one brought to hand. Finally reaching the end of the run I came across a small wooden bridge just before the brook dumped into a small pond.
Underneath this bridge would surely be the perfect hiding spot for some wary brook trout. but after a good bit of, what seemed to me, to be perfectly reasonable invitations for my elusive prey to spring forth from it's lair, nothing...
But so it goes sometimes.
Perhaps another time, in the cool of the autumn, I would have what I certainly needed most, better luck.
Oh yes, the only fish I brought to hand?
Not exactly what I was hoping for.....