Chasing Rainbows…

…and Finding Brook Trout

Hoping to follow up on my recent rainbow trout success with more of the same, I headed off to a different stretch of the same river. It seemed like a great plan. The plan was solid. It was the execution that went to shit.

Upon arrival, I found that I had packed my chest waders, but not my wading shoes. Damn! A limited time frame did not allow for a round trip to pick up my shoes. High water and treelined banks would have made flyfishing from dry land ineffective. Double damn!

What was Plan B? I had no plan B. I was hoping to check the ice status of a nearby lake, if time allowed. Maybe this was plan B. This lake has good fishing for mixed species and fair shoreline access. I could make this work. Well despite recent warm spells with temperatures that surged into the 60’s and 70’s, the lake was still fully covered with slushy ice. Balls!

Racking my brain for options, I decided to hit a roadside spot that I had never tried before. It had a reputation for holding numerous brook trout. Sounds good. The pool did not hold the numbers of fish that I had heard and hoped, but it did have one nice brookie that immediately grabbed my fly. As I swung it to hand, he shook the hook and dropped back into the water. That was the end of that spot. Half a damn or maybe one ball!

Off to the next spot. This was one I have fished a time or two. Open shoreline on a small river with smallmouth, mixed panfish species, and a remote shot at a trout. Well, I may as well have faced the other way and cast into the grassy field. I realized quickly these fish weren’t buying what I was selling. I was growing comfortable with failure now.

Running out of time and patience, I had one spot left. A small mountain stream closer to home with a reputation for native brook trout. Remember now, this was a wading trip without wading shoes. I did not have proper shoes for anything but driving. I was wearing Crocs – the worst shoe ever created for physical activity. This was going to be like bouldering in bedroom slippers. Oh well, no choice and no time.

Well, brook trout I sought and brook trout I found. Every pool held at least one, and often more. I didn’t count, but I caught enough to make my earlier failures laughable. One by one and a couple times two by two they came to net and hand. I was the proverbial kid in a candy store. What they lacked in size they more than made up for with their cooperative spirit. Success at last!

Here a brief recap video showing a few of the fish:

What’s the moral of the story? I don’t know. Don’t give up? Stay positive? Be flexible? Pack more carefully? Maybe it’s just go fishing and you’ll feel better.