Paying Dues

There are a few constants when it comes to a particularly tough season, first that there are some high points that are absolutely spectacular, and second, that we have to keep on paying our dues for those high points.

In my mind, I think about the fact that Mother Nature rather severely disrupted the lives of the trout, to say nothing of the lives of the insects and baitfish and, of course, the anglers. Well, there is high water most years some say, and that is true, but for 2025 she brought down two very sustained events during the prime of the season, the time when the majority of our mayflies are either hatching or preparing to hatch, and all of the other baby organisms in their food chain are swimming out to investigate their new world. That flushed a lot of food away, and a lot of next year’s food too if you think about it. That means our trout have to find as much protein as they can during the summer.

I figure that our trout are going to have to move a lot, to work harder to get their shares of a diminished food base, to consider new options. My thoughts jump back to the snake I watched get devoured in one hell of a rise recently. I have already seen how that adjustment has affected my own fishing, changing patterns learned through decades of days on the water.

There’s another factor to consider too: dropping rivers. After all that rain in May and June, we seem to have returned to another drought cycle. Little of the rains predicted during these past few weeks has fallen. Lord, might you send us a three-day bundle of cooler air and gentle rain?

It was hot again yesterday, and the early morning hours and lack of sleep had caught up with me, so I did my best to sleep in. That didn’t work out so well, but I did at least try to rest a little, catch up on a blacked out ballgame, and save my fishing for a couple of hours in the afternoon.

It was another dues paying day. One decent trout insulted me by eating something a few minutes after I had thoroughly fished his location. It was a sizeable rise, and I changed the fly and worked that stretch over again, then once more with a third pattern. No rise, no movement, no nothing. Perhaps he was simply passing through and found a quick roadside stop for a sandwich. I’ll never know, but I have caught a lot of trout over the years in just that kind of situation. Once a hunter has betrayed his presence, there is a good chance that I will take him.

I kind of think he jumped right back in the car and chewed on that sandwich slowly after he hit the road again, looking for the next stop to catch his eye.

I took a moment myself, standing there alone and winding my line and leader onto my reel after clipping off my fly. I looked down river and couldn’t help but marvel at just how beautiful the scene before me was…