Posted on June 30 2015
It was the last day of June and the last day of fishing before my trip
out west. The morning found gray skies and a light drizzle, mother
nature, however, wasn't satisfied and she opened up the spigot and it
rained, hard at times. How hard? Hard enough that a drive over the
Hale Eddy bridge at 2:00pm confirmed that my planned destination for
the day was nothing but a sea of mud.
Shifted to plan B and headed up the EB which was high but clear. At
the EB Sunoco Station, the upper EB was colored but I decided to drive
up and try to fish above one of the offending tribs. Found clear
water and my good friends the dark winged little olives. The fish had
found them before I arrived and were making up for not eating
yesterday.
I had rising trout in rising water from 3:00 until I quit at 8:00. The
bugs? Everything hatched, olives of all shapes and sizes, isos,
sulfurs, pink ladies, orange cahills and every other may fly you could
think of. After taking off my waders, I stood on the bank for ten
minutes and watched rising trout in a pool just upstream from where I
fished still gulping down may fly duns.
You just gotta love an olive kind of day
out west. The morning found gray skies and a light drizzle, mother
nature, however, wasn't satisfied and she opened up the spigot and it
rained, hard at times. How hard? Hard enough that a drive over the
Hale Eddy bridge at 2:00pm confirmed that my planned destination for
the day was nothing but a sea of mud.
Shifted to plan B and headed up the EB which was high but clear. At
the EB Sunoco Station, the upper EB was colored but I decided to drive
up and try to fish above one of the offending tribs. Found clear
water and my good friends the dark winged little olives. The fish had
found them before I arrived and were making up for not eating
yesterday.
I had rising trout in rising water from 3:00 until I quit at 8:00. The
bugs? Everything hatched, olives of all shapes and sizes, isos,
sulfurs, pink ladies, orange cahills and every other may fly you could
think of. After taking off my waders, I stood on the bank for ten
minutes and watched rising trout in a pool just upstream from where I
fished still gulping down may fly duns.
You just gotta love an olive kind of day
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