"Acrobatic brown trout sipped PMD's in the morning, slammed hoppers in the overcast light of midday and fell victim to a well placed parachute adams in the afternoon."
“He owns about 11 miles of private stream, and as far as I know, he only fishes it once or twice a year. We actually manage the fishery for him. Just head down the road, past the gas station and there you’ll see the pole. Just pull in and make yourself at home. We’ll be back that way in a few hours.”
It seamed too good to be true. Was it a set-up? Was I about to get peppered with rock salt by a crusty rancher, or even worse, about to play the role of Bobby Trippe in the locals rendition of Deliverance? Honestly, I didn’t know what to think. I had just met these fella’s a few moments ago, they didn’t know me from Adam, they’re giving me permission to fish a private ranch that supposedly had big brown trout, and they aren’t even going to be there?
Had I decided not to go and just kept on driving, I would have spent each evening around the campfire wondering what could have been.
What I found when the truck crested the hill overlooking that silver water was a meandering stream that took on the attitude of a spring creek. And like a spring creek, the fish wanted the fly presented just so, and when it was presented just so, the fishing was unreal! Acrobatic brown trout sipped PMD’s in the morning, slammed hoppers in the overcast light of midday and fell victim to a well placed Parachute Adams in the afternoon.
This was a place of legends. The average size brown trout was pushing 22″ and were as strong as any trout I have hooked. Even after I had brought them to net the game wasn’t over. On several occasions they would leap out of the bag, and one fish in particular actually ripped through my net and found his way to freedom. It was an experience I wont soon forget, and I am extremely thankful that a couple of good hearted-self proclaimed rednecks shared it with me! Stay tuned for day 2…