Rainy Day Plans

This looks to be a good rainy day. Yesterday’s downpours hammered some of our rivers, while others showed little change. I happened to go out yesterday evening to fill up with gas when a terrific storm cell arrived in Hancock. Driving home I had to keep it at a crawl just to be able to see, but today looks like light rain, the kind that could create a truly nice fishing day.

I have my old friend, my ’77 vintage Thomas & Thomas Hendrickson, sitting against the armoire door ready and waiting. This is a particularly sweet taper, and this rod has their impregnated finish that protects the bamboo better than varnish. This old T&T is a perfect rainy-day wand, though it has been a rod I have turned to often, rain or shine.

I rebuilt the leader on an original Orvis CFO IV reel yesterday, so my tackle is ready to go. My rain jacket is right there in the car, and a long sleeve tee shirt will be just about right beneath it.

I will take some time this morning, its just past six, and tie a few olives to have them handy. I know I have hundreds of them in I don’t know how many fly boxes, but flies you tie the morning before fishing are always good luck!

There, half a dozen fresh from the vise: tiny size 20 T.P. Duns and size 18 100-Year Duns stored in a fly cup to stuff in my vest! Last evenings storms didn’t touch the West Branch, though this morning’s steady rain is adding a bit of additional flow. The expectation is the river will be imminently fishable, and trout, mayflies and old anglers will rejoice at the moisture and the welcome cool, cloudy conditions.

After last week’s threatening heat, a couple of cooler, rainy days will be more than welcome. It would be quite nice to have a couple of them every week or two. How nice the rivers would be!

There is still a little time this morning, a couple of hours to relax and daydream before gearing up and choosing the reach of river I will visit. I can lean back and consider twenty-five years of summers along the West Branch. I can picture when a bright day clouded up, and a misty drizzle appeared. It was my last day of the trip and I could have headed south, but I drove down river to a favorite bend in the river where I found myself alone. Olives were drifting and bobbing upon the currents, and soft rings replaced a number of them.

Size twenties were the dish du jour, at least early in the hatch, and I was catching some beauties. At one point though, my flies lost their favor. I stood and watched phalanxes of the naturals still coming. But hey, I thought, are they just a bit bigger now? Plucked one from the surface and sure enough the later flies were size eighteens! A fly swap put me back in heaven!