Evening turns to night...
The last of the day's light faded on the horizon as the sky slowly morphed through the color spectrum from blue to yellow and then orange to purple. On the river's surface, the trout's interest in the evening's sulphur hatch also began to wane. The rises that were once steady were now sporadic with activity moving from the head of the run to the tailout of the pool. The hope of a strong emergence that would bring the largest trout in the river to the surface never truly materialized. A few trout were fooled and many more were not. Such is the game at the end of a hatch cycle when the fish have seen a season worth of patterns and presentations from all manner of skill level. In the moment, I was content to sit, watch, listen, and breathe. Out of sight, out of body, out of mind. Darkness slowly took over the river as the air temperature dropped significantly from the intense heat of the afternoon. Fireflies dotted the tree line and resembled yellow beacons moving over the body of water. Looking up, stars began to dot the night sky and several bats zig zagged across the sky picking off all manner of bugs using echolocation. It was a perfect night that was just getting started...
I can't recall how long I sat motionless in the boat allowing myself to plug into the river. After awhile, all my senses adjusted to the darkness enabling me to register minuscule changes, sounds, and motion. When it was dark enough, I reached for my 6110-5 Loop Cross S1 switch rod that was rigged with a 360 grain Orvis Mission Scandi head. Attached to the line was four feet of 20lb. test with a loop knot to a sizable fly resembling a rodent. I wouldn't be casting two handed, but bombing overhead casts to the banks and swinging my fly broadside across seams, bubble lines, and glassy pools. On the first cast, I saw and heard a splash near my fly before an eager smallmouth bass ate a fly half its size. Some casts later, a 16 inch chub decided to partake and had me fooled until I peered into my net. After that, there was nothing except the sounds of the river and my line passing through the guides. Cast after cast, swing after swing, covering water trying to locate the target. Trying to keep on keeping on.
Doubt began to creep into my mind. Would this work here like it does on other rivers? The doubt turned to tiredness, sloppiness, and a lack of confidence. Thankfully I realized what was happening and briefly snapped out of it. I peered into the darkness and caught the wake of my fly coming across the river. I could make out the reflection of the tree line on the surface of the water and even the bubble line my fly was approaching. Despite the location and the depth of the water, I had a feeling overcome me. When you swing flies long enough, you surely know what I'm talking about. The hair can sometimes stand up on the back of your neck when you feel that pull on the line and when the speed of the fly feels just right...
Whoooooosh.
Weight.
Head shakes.
Well, hello beautiful...
There is something very cool about turning a headlamp on and revealing the trout you've just landed. I'm sure it's similar to that moment when you walk up to a big downed buck that you've just tracked through the brush after a successful hunt. In that moment, the size, shape, and characteristics are revealed. It's in those few precious seconds that hunters and anglers get those good feels that connect us to our natural instincts. Big brown trout do that for me. Once reaching a certain size, brown trout change and become meat eaters. Their shape, weight, and feeding habits evolve too. As humans, we have to take some time to adapt to our nighttime surroundings, especially outdoors. On the flip side, big brown trout were built for the night. They have evolved to hunt, ambush, and eat large meals. This includes small mammals and other critters off of the surface. By adapting, anglers can shake hands with some nocturnal browns they otherwise might not have a chance at.
Be careful though, browns aren't the only things that go bump in the night...
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