Eventually, my line tightened after a cast and a few seconds later a small, beautifully colored brook trout was in the landing net. By then my angling partner, Minnesotan Scott Mackenthun, already had caught a couple of brown trout, slightly larger than my diminutive brookies. Scott was using a “circus peanut,” an articulated streamer.
The quiet river was uncrowded, with a lot of cover to work. Trout Unlimited recently received approval for a program that allowed hinge cutting certain trees, felling them into the water to create habitat. Fly fishing for trout along these sometimes-narrow rivers isn’t all that unlike fishing for crappie, bluegill or bass. Fish like to lurk in cover, often in tough to access areas. As the old saying goes, “If you’re not getting hung up, then you’re not fishing close enough.”
Mackenthun probably hung his flies in the riverside trees and brush more often than I did. He also caught about a dozen fish to my two. Riley was nonplussed about the hang-ups, sometimes encouraging us to simply break off snagged flies.
Mackenthun started the morning in the front of the boat, giving him first crack at all those choice targets. We switched positions mid-morning, and he still caught several fish to my one.
There is something incredibly relaxing about this style of fishing. It requires concentration and technique, constant connection to the water and the way it is behaving. Other than the sound of the oars dipping in the water and the gentle whoosh of fly line cutting through the air, the quietude is inspiring. (It does help, though, when the silence is interrupted by the splashing of a trout coming to the net.)
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