After the fishing trip with my grandson on Friday, one of the fellas from my FF club invited me to go to the Eastern Sierras with a group of guys for a one day turnaround. It ended up being 4 of us. We met up at 4 AM and made the three and a half hour drive to Bishop in under three. (I wasn't driving) Had breakfast at Jack's and headed to the Owen's River below the power plant above Pleasant Valley Reservoir.
I started the day off with a pheasant tail nymph and was rewarded with 4 little brown trouts. Another guy landed 2 and then we moved on down the canyon a half mile or so. Everyone found a place to fish but me. I looked at trail after trail going down to the water and wasn't happy with any of them. I finally found a spot I liked and tied on a Water Cricket I got in a swap last fall. I beleive it was tyed by REE. I waded out a little less than knee deep and started casting. I landed one little brown and a few minutes later had another on.
My new friend Jeff walked up and sat on the bank to watch and talk. Meanwhile my upper legs started to get cold, a large stick came floating by, and the water starting changing from clear to brown. Now I'm not the sharpest hook in the fly box, but it didn't take long to figure out either my legs were shrinking or the water was rising. By the time I got out it had risen close to 2 feet. Jeff and I made it back to the road and it wasn't long before the other two guys came along sniveling about the conditions of the H2O and the adverse affect it was having on the fishing.
Needless to say we picked up and left. We drove down to the C&R wild trout area below the reservoir and started over. The flow was up and the water was kinda murkey but we spent several hours walking the river and fishing various holes, riffles and pockets. It sprinkled a little rain and the wind started blowing like crazy. Very few fish were caught in that time by the four of us. I didn't catch any but did have a few heart jolting tugs. We decided to call it a day at about 3 PM.
The coolest thing about today, I realised on the drive home, was that although I did get snagged on reeds, grass and bushes and landed a half dozen trouts, not one knot slipped, not one fly was lost, not one line broke.
I don't know if I'm getting better, or if the Fly Fishing gods took pity on me because of the rising water incident, but it was the first time in my memory that that has happened. WOO HOO.