River Moods

The clouds gathered as I walked down river, and I felt one of those special days was at hand. I had tied one of the morning’s flies, a dark winged olive poster, sure that the hatch would be early. Alas, a river’s moods do not follow those of the anglers who frequent it’s environs!

Despite the dark clouds, fewer rises were in my future than during Tuesday’s bright sunshine. Thankfully, the Red Gods offered some gusty winds to pass the waiting I still felt would be rewarded.

I had lingered for several hours, sitting on a downed tree when it blew hard, or standing in the current during the calm periods, even swinging a soft hackle down through a few riffles that experience swears may hold surprises, all with nothing to report.

Come mid-afternoon, a solitary rise began here and there, some with significant authority behind them, though casting to any within reach proved fruitless. Eventually, my solitude surrendered to a couple of fellow wanderers, the kind that proved happy to nudge into my little reach of water, no matter were I casting actively or resting it. Sadly, this is the norm in these days, even on as large a river as the Delaware with just three people in sight.

There was one rise that, while very occasional, seemed to be in about the same place. One of the interlopers had set up just downstream but proved as oblivious as he was to my presence. With another cozying from above, and the lower paying no attention, I finally waded out to take a shot at the only repetitive riser available.

It was a poke, you might say, and though expecting rain I had carried my old Paradigm graphite, it’s four weight line was blowing quite a lot in the gusts. Trusting patience, there were little opportunities between the gusts, so I used them judiciously, placing my Halo Isonychia above the hidden rock the current betrayed then playing out slack to follow it down.

The fish didn’t make a production to take it as it had whatever the river had been offering, but my strike was on instinct rather than a showy visual clue. It used the current immediately, had me thinking about the tippet and smiling to myself that he hadn’t been eating a size twenty or something like that.

It didn’t take long for me to conclude he was a rainbow, for he fought and pulled like he was a bull with a turbocharger. Delaware River rainbows are simply amazing! It seems that they get a great deal of exercise, roaming the entire river system to find suitable temperatures through the extremes of our seasons. The Mainstem, the East and West Branches, the Beaver Kill and the Willowemoc are proven a part of their vacation route, and all of that travelling produces a lot of hard muscle tissue. These fish are unmistakable on the line, as they simply will not quit!

Finally, sweeping him into the net, there was a sixteen-inch trout with a wider profile than the slim torpedoes we used to see here and vibrant colors. No fish that size should be able to pull that long for that hard, but that is what they do as a matter of course.

I was hoping for another, lurking way out there on that rock and it’s bubble trail, but interloper number two was easing out just to my right, eyeing a cast right where I had caught that fish. I had seen him casting earlier, and understood he couldn’t make the cast, so I said nothing, simply continued placing my Halo out there and feeding it line to cover the bubble trail a bit further down current. He winced and wandered down to bother interloper number one and cozied up too close to him, making short casts to nothing I could see, despite his proximity. I hope they enjoyed each other.

The moods of rivers have mystified anglers for literally centuries, there having been evidence that the Chinese tied feathers on a hook and fished their flies with bamboo rods well before the English from whom our traditions have come, four thousand years ago if I recall properly.

Anglers: we routinely puzzle at the conditions Nature offers, justify our lack of fishing activity as dictated by them, and wish for something different no matter we get: sun when it’s wet, rain if it’s dry; winds if it’s too calm and calm amid a zephyr of breeze. I was pleased enough with the day, despite the images of grandeur I held when it began, happy to get a good pull from my one rambunctious trout and a smile!