This evening I decided to hike up one of the small tribs that feed the main river. I told myself I was going for the solitude, the scenery and the beautiful fish. Mostly I was hoping for slower, shallower and thus warmer water. Fishing from a boat has made me soft.
A quarter mile upstream from the bridge there is a small set of falls with sheer rock faces along either side. This is as far up as I had ever been. The only way around them is to go up before the walls and bypass the falls by crossing private land. Today I was going to ignore the numerous "private property" and "no trespassing" signs.
Like all fisherman, I wanted to see what was further upstream.
I stopped in a large berry patch and ate my fill before a feeling of guilt set in. Not only was I trespassing but I was probably devouring the landowners hopes for wild strawberry jam this fall. One of these I could justify, the other I couldn't.
I stepped back into the river and began fishing. The stream was smaller, the casts shorter, the current slower, the mends easier.
There seems to be nothing deliberate or measured with these Rainbows. Their minds made up, they slash at the fly, coming out from under ledges and behind rocks. All speed and faith.
Warm sun on my face, cool water at my feet, a glass rod in my hand and Rainbows in the water.
As the sun faded I left.[/report]