Why they call it fishing (and not catching) TR
After 3 weeks of seeing a lot of beautiful rock formations (but not a whole lot of water) on the Colorado Plateau, I figured it was time to pinpoint the pinhole leak in my right wader foot, and maybe find a few fish looking up. Reports of blanket hatches, a veritable bug Cornucopia, got me thinking my timing was good so I headed for a section of river I've passed numerous times but never stopped to fish.
Not quite the crack of dawn, but early enough
a few scattered showers (that became much less scattered rather quickly) but hey, the fish are already wet and mayflies love crummy weather, right?
rainbows here are hot, had a couple decent (but not overly large) fish pop me off; they grow weird bugs here - I have yet to see a purple mayfly, but that's what they wanted
thunder and lightning decided to join in the fun; since death by electrocution is not on my to-do list, I headed away from the deluge and found another nice piece of water.
Again reports circulating of massive hatches of every know aquatic insect; I saw a few golden stones and the odd caddis. Got a few fish (one on a foam stone, the rest on a purple Convertible), didn't slip and wreck my knee (which I did a few miles upstream back in '92), so I considered the day a success.
Headed back out the next day, a little closer to home base. Water was in great shape
me, figuring these lesser fished-for fish would be pushovers (hah!), went right to the purple Convertible; got a brown fish right away
then nothing else
switched to the foam golden even though this didn't look too much like stonefly water (there had been quite a few skwalas in May); picked up a fish here and there
drove down to where the water was a little faster, wider and deeper
lots of golden stone shucks on the rocks but none in the air (Miss Sally was out in force, though); this place seems to go off a bit earlier than other water so maybe I missed them
last hole I fished had a nice 'bow pop up and take a long, hard look at a tan Carnage stone but no dice; lost the fly to a willow trout on the next cast which I took as a sign to call an end to the day (that plus the 25 miles of gravel road in various state of disrepair I had to maneuver in the Dodge)