A much needed break was in store. Instead of driving and fishing around the clock in between work weeks, I found myself sleeping in, sandwiched between two labradors happy to see master. It took two leisurely days of rest and playing with the dogs before I picked up the fly rod again. When I did, I made a phone call, and later found myself on a small stream with the goal of slaying some stocker rainbows.
On the menu are every pig rainbow's favorite morning meal: steak and eggs. For us, its seven foot fly rods in the 2-4 wt. range with enough bend in them to execute slingshot casts between and underneath all sorts of overhangs. It is 100% pure sight fishing with egg patterns and san juan worm atrocities. Tradition is overthrown and the legends turn in their graves as hog after hog comes to hand. There are smiles on our faces and zero shame in our stomachs. The memories of a fishless weekend swinging flies endlessly for a big pull are flushed out of my system. They are replaced with small stream gluttony and football shaped overfed bows.