It was back to work this week after 9 days at the beach. 45 hours of work, about 20 meetings, and 1500 emails later, I was in need of some relaxation again. I haven't actually fished for actual wild trout since the end of April and I felt I was due for some trico action.
I sat up Friday night and tied half a dozen trico spinners, 3 females and 3 males. I was on the water by 6:45am. I forgot how beautiful a limestone stream is in the morning.

There is something zen-like and soul cleansing with early morning trico fishing. The fog starts to lift off the water, the birds start swooping down inches from the water picking up the spinners before they drop, and then you see the first dimple from a rising fish. I missed trout fishing. It's a far cry from throwing straight 10 lb leader with big flies to bruiser smallmouth in my backyard.
To say the fish were smart would be an understatement. They've been doing this dance a thousand times this summer; easily snubbing your fly for the 200 naturals around it. This stretch of water gets hammered with anglers. They've been stung way too many times, and know the difference. They are so accustomed to people fishing while they gorge that they aren't even afraid anymore and will sip flies 5 feet in front of you but almost always will just stop even examining your fly after 5 casts.
I had to work really hard, but I did come up with a couple of rainbows in an hour.


I was going to pack it in, and then a saw a flash of orange downstream from me. Turns out a nice fat Palomino decided to come to the party. I've been trout fishing a long time, and I've never seen one rise. Not only was he rising, but he was rising every few seconds and was at one point, less than a foot in front of me. Even though these are mutant stocked fish that are bred for nothing more than being a stuffed trophy over the fireplace in a house that watches way too much Nascar, I still thought it could be cool to take one on a size 24 trico.
I worked him for about half an hour, and finally got him to take a spinner. The fight was boring. He had been caught quite a few times before and knew the drill. I picked him up, snapped a pic, and send him on his way.

With that, I called it a day. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday morning.