The day started like so many other days chasing trout. Up by 5am, coffee, gas-up, grab some little Debbies from the .99$ rack, and hit the road for the the hour trip to the foothills. Only today I set out for a stretch of water that had been my nemesis for years. Nearly inaccessible, brutally hard to fish, and completely unknown, It had been my white whale and today I was set out to kill it.
The first interesting form of life was a toad that crossed my path about twenty minutes into the hike, but I wasn't here for toads even if he was interesting to observe. I was on a mission for the brookies that had eluded me for years.
Then when you get them close and they open that gaping black mouth lined with rows of teeth you wonder if this fish isn't part Parana. Even the small 8-10 inchers had the rows of teeth that make you think twice about trying to remove the fly with your fingers. You look in there and instantly grab the hemostats for the delicate procedure instead of risking a slightly painful finger injury.
Without a doubt, these fish are the best looking fish one will ever catch on a fly rod!
In the end, this trip was by far one of the most challenging trips I have taken as an angler as well as the most rewarding. If you have actually read this post all the way through you might have gathered that I enjoyed it more than words can express and I ask your forgiveness for all the flowery language related to the fish. In truth I lack the words to truly convey the beauty of the day and all I was lucky enough to experience. I guess all you really need to know was that I couldn't stop smiling on the entire four mile trek back to the car or the hour plus drive back home. Even now, four days later, I am smiling - that's how good it was.