copied from - averagejoefisherman.blogspot.com/
When Thursday rolled around last week I was able to leave work early. By 4:00 my office, and the work I left in it, was a distant memory. With my gear loaded into the Silverado I was headed north to one of my favorite little creeks. For those of you who read “A Fishing Report – Average Joe Fisherman Style” you will be happy to know that I remembered all of gear this time. =)
My train of thought was that we were coming off a major holiday weekend and the streams would have been busier than FedEx at Chrismas. Between the holiday fisherman, kids playing and the aluminum hatch (canoes) all of the trout would be hiding better than witnesses in the FBI witness protection program. Yes I was certain that the fishing would be best on smaller creeks where the canoes at least could not go. In hindsight I was 50% correct.
The stream I decided to fish is one of those rare jewels that fisherman do not speak of. It is home to wild rainbows and brown trout and is extremely tiny in places. If you are lucky enough to catch a trout that pushes thirteen inches on this particular stream you should feel very fortunate. A deep bend or pool might be close to twenty four inches deep.
Once I arrived at my destination I decided to walk through the woods, get in downstream, and fish back to the bridge. At the bridge I would hop the road and keep fishing upstream till dark. After about a fifteen minute walk through the woods I couldn’t stand it anymore and had to start fishing. Finally I was standing in cold clear water that barely made it to my shins. Once I started fishing I found trout everywhere. In fact it was a common occurrence to see several trout competing for my presentation. The day had the makings to be one of “those” days… then I arrived at the bridge.
I am not exactly sure what happened upstream of the bridge over the holiday weekend, but there were no trout. None! I did not even spoke a fish, which for those of you who fish small streams know is pretty much impossible when walking in the water. After three hours of fishing and seeing not so much as a refusal I tapped out. Normally I would not give up on a piece of water but there were too many other rivers close at hand and I was frustrated. With thirty minutes left of light, I packed up and headed to a different stream. As I approached the stream there was pretty significant white fly hatch going on. I had just enough time to pick my shot. At the end of log a hefty sixteen inch brown trout took notice of my offering not once but twice. On this particular evening two attempts were not enough to bring the trout to hand. Being an Average Joe Fisherman I am going to chalk my lack of success up to river pressure from the holiday, not my fishing ability. Oh well, there is always next week.