means certain. Never did find out, but continuing the drift another ten feet downstream me leader stopped again. I set up again, this time a bigger fish, 19-20", that ran and jumped and generally made a spectacle of itself in the confined space.
Dave caught a couple of small fish, ten inches or so.
"That's unusual here," he said..
"They've been showing up like that this year," offered the fisherman across the creek.
Ten minutes later, casting to a swirl across and downstream to a mini-cove, I set up again, this one 17 inches.
"Do you mind if I ask you what fly you're using," inquired the man across the creek?"
"Something called The Worm."
"The WHAT?"
"The San Juan Worm,............about an inch of red yarn on a hook."
"Can I buy any around here."
"There's a sporting goods store in Soap Lake, but I don't know whether they've got that many flies", Dave offered from upstream.
Then we hit a cold spell, working upstream. Dusk started to settle, the tempo of rises increased slightly, From about one very five minutes to one every three minutes. The air promised frost in the morning. Nothing seemed interested in the worm. Dave picked me up coming downstream and we walked back to the plank bridge together.
The sight of the wide, shallow pond below the plank was breathtaking. A gorgeous sunset against the rimrock silhouette of the gorge, and multiple rises, actually multiple bow waves of fish visibly cruising through the shallows.
"I'm going to work a streamer across the flats down below on this side. I've done well there in the past," Dave offered.
"O.K., I'm going to stay right here on this point below the plank." I really didn't relish
crossing that ten inch wide, gumbo plated plank in the dark. There were more than enough bow waves and rises where I as to justify my rationalization. When they're that big, it doesn't take that many.
Casting into truly still water now, I worked The Worm around rises and waves and had one pull, questionable whether bottom or a fish. Then I noticed a rise behind me, just below the plank. In the dark, I couldn't see the size of the fish, but I flipped the fly up and ran it through the run that created the inlet to the pond. The third time when I felt the fly was past the rise point, I pulled it out to re-cast, but it didn't
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