Silver Doctor.clarksclassicflyrodforum
- Name: Lornce
- Age: 60
- Gender: Male
- Location: Calgary AB CA
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| 174 | 11/02/09 09:53:06 | 11/05/09 06:20:42 | 06/13/08 |
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Bow River Fall
Sunday was here and as predicted the weather changed. Change is often good , many species of mayfly only hatch in
conditions like this. It was 6:30am when I loaded the truck. Made sure the rain gear was packed and my thermos of tea. Heading up the back alley the rain
started in earnest. Driving through the farmland is always pleasant. It brings me back to my farming routs a generation removed. There's something awfully
calming about rain soaked meadows. I often get lost in thought on my drives to the river. Usually thinking of people places and times gone by.
The parking lot was fairly empty. A few trucks lonely and waiting for drifters to arrive. Spent a pleasant few minuets chatting with one of the shuttle drivers I know. The rain had lifted a bit with just a drizzle.
Packed the gear, strung the Deer Creek and started my trek. I like to put some distance between myself and access areas. About 2 k's later and puffing a bit I stopped to stare at the river. Fall rivers change. They're not the bright sparkle of summer but they start settling in to a routine that will spell the more stark winter feel. The smell of fall was in the air, almost overpowering and I was lost in walking, color and smell.
It started to rain in earnest when I got to the section of river I wanted to tackle. Sat down for a bit and warmed the body up with a cup of hot tea. It cooled nicely with water dripping from my hat brim. Always gives me a change to watch the water. The heavy rain subsided to a light drizzle again. The Blue Quills where coming off the water hot and heavy drifting like little sailboats in the current.
Lots of juvenile trout where rising along the edges. The water had a lot of action. Not wanting to miss this opportunity I fished my old telescoping dry fly rod out of my vest pack. Its an old fiberglass rod and reel out of the fifties passed down to me, but still throws a good dry. Had a solid hour of fun with fish from 8 to 17" nailing a blue quill thorax tie of my own. 5 rainbows later the action slowed with only the odd riser.
Hiked downriver a bit and then stowed my dry fly rod. Switched back to the Spey and swung double wets with no interest. The hatch had changed to what looked like brilliant little blue wing olives. There was the odd rise but it was no longer the splashy greedy surface wallops. It was now the swirls of emerger action. Tied on blue wing emerger and march brown emerger. The brown was the ticket. I ended up with three more fish, larger, and in the 18" range. Then a wonderful brown decided what I had, defiantly belonged on the other side of the river. His first run took me downstream about 50 yards. That much line usually spells disaster but I slowly coaxed him in. enough to see bright spots and a gorgeous brown flash. His next run parted company with me. Sat for a while on the bank water dripping off my gear. I was starting to chill and the walk back was still facing me. With the coming dusk and work tomorrow it was time to leave the river behind for another time.
The parking lot was fairly empty. A few trucks lonely and waiting for drifters to arrive. Spent a pleasant few minuets chatting with one of the shuttle drivers I know. The rain had lifted a bit with just a drizzle.
Packed the gear, strung the Deer Creek and started my trek. I like to put some distance between myself and access areas. About 2 k's later and puffing a bit I stopped to stare at the river. Fall rivers change. They're not the bright sparkle of summer but they start settling in to a routine that will spell the more stark winter feel. The smell of fall was in the air, almost overpowering and I was lost in walking, color and smell.
It started to rain in earnest when I got to the section of river I wanted to tackle. Sat down for a bit and warmed the body up with a cup of hot tea. It cooled nicely with water dripping from my hat brim. Always gives me a change to watch the water. The heavy rain subsided to a light drizzle again. The Blue Quills where coming off the water hot and heavy drifting like little sailboats in the current.
Lots of juvenile trout where rising along the edges. The water had a lot of action. Not wanting to miss this opportunity I fished my old telescoping dry fly rod out of my vest pack. Its an old fiberglass rod and reel out of the fifties passed down to me, but still throws a good dry. Had a solid hour of fun with fish from 8 to 17" nailing a blue quill thorax tie of my own. 5 rainbows later the action slowed with only the odd riser.
Hiked downriver a bit and then stowed my dry fly rod. Switched back to the Spey and swung double wets with no interest. The hatch had changed to what looked like brilliant little blue wing olives. There was the odd rise but it was no longer the splashy greedy surface wallops. It was now the swirls of emerger action. Tied on blue wing emerger and march brown emerger. The brown was the ticket. I ended up with three more fish, larger, and in the 18" range. Then a wonderful brown decided what I had, defiantly belonged on the other side of the river. His first run took me downstream about 50 yards. That much line usually spells disaster but I slowly coaxed him in. enough to see bright spots and a gorgeous brown flash. His next run parted company with me. Sat for a while on the bank water dripping off my gear. I was starting to chill and the walk back was still facing me. With the coming dusk and work tomorrow it was time to leave the river behind for another time.
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