An 'Ah Ha!' Moment
We are in strange times, I am sure you all know. Fortunately, fishing is well within the confines of social distancing. Especially when you are waste deep in a cold stream. Not many folks are up for doing that in general, let alone right now. But that is beside the point.
I had a moment yesterday while standing waste deep in Clear Creek winging my fly out in front of me. A sense of calm and clarity where everything made sense. I was only able to fish for about two hours. The first half of my outing was just me not catching a thing. I was throwing a heavier black streamer. Nothing would go for it.
Then it happened. I first noticed some bass jumping out of the water downstream from me. That threw me off. The water was still cold. It isn't even top-water time. I decided to observe for a while, trying to understand what was happening. And it dawned on me. As a caddis, or something of the sort, landed on my rod to rest for a moment, I realized the bass were jumping to grab these flies off the near surface of the water as they emerged out in the hatch.
I looked around me and saw that these flies were everywhere. Many of them were hovering just above the water. I took a moment to inspect the ones closest to me. They were brownish with a little grey. I immediately started looking through my fly boxes to find something, anything, that might resemble these guys.
The closest thing I could find was a brown/tan woolly bugger. I tied it on and added some floatant to try and keep it at or near the surface of the stream. I cast a dead drift in the current to let it slide into the slack water near the bottom of the pool. A smallie hit! I missed it though. I went again. This time I hooked up! I pulled it in and put him back in the water. I cast another time. Another hit!
Every cast and every take was like it was happening in slow motion. Realizing that these smallmouth bass were only taking what "matched the hatch" was a revelation. It was one of the most gratifying experiences I have had; having that "Ah Ha!" moment.
The fish are getting their fill. If you can, get out there and catch 'em.
- WRS
Then it happened. I first noticed some bass jumping out of the water downstream from me. That threw me off. The water was still cold. It isn't even top-water time. I decided to observe for a while, trying to understand what was happening. And it dawned on me. As a caddis, or something of the sort, landed on my rod to rest for a moment, I realized the bass were jumping to grab these flies off the near surface of the water as they emerged out in the hatch.
I looked around me and saw that these flies were everywhere. Many of them were hovering just above the water. I took a moment to inspect the ones closest to me. They were brownish with a little grey. I immediately started looking through my fly boxes to find something, anything, that might resemble these guys.
The closest thing I could find was a brown/tan woolly bugger. I tied it on and added some floatant to try and keep it at or near the surface of the stream. I cast a dead drift in the current to let it slide into the slack water near the bottom of the pool. A smallie hit! I missed it though. I went again. This time I hooked up! I pulled it in and put him back in the water. I cast another time. Another hit!
Every cast and every take was like it was happening in slow motion. Realizing that these smallmouth bass were only taking what "matched the hatch" was a revelation. It was one of the most gratifying experiences I have had; having that "Ah Ha!" moment.
The fish are getting their fill. If you can, get out there and catch 'em.
- WRS
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