Thursday, May 13, 2010

The Jungle.

The morning rain came to an abrupt stop as I stepped out of the truck. The sun peered through the clouds providing springtime warmth that pierced through my cotton hoody urging me to take it off. I obliged and slowly rigged up before heading off into the jungle. Aptly named for its close quarters combat and molesting mosquitos. I had new plans to work farther upstream, an area almost untouchable. Thick brush lines the narrow, deep stream bed. Tall grass presents itself like a likely place to place your foot only to suddenly give way into a four foot deep undercut bank. Thick mattes of vegetation fill the deep off colored water making an ideal habitat for wild brown trout. I had high hopes as I worked for an opening, cringing every time my new waders came into contact with the thick thorns protecting the water. In several hundred yards I only found one reasonable access point. At the others I found myself crawling out of thigh deep mud Bear Grylls style. Once I settled in to a spot I could cast at, the wind came out of left field. Slow and steady at first before gaining momentum that later approaches fifty mph gusts. The window of presentation suddenly shrank into nothing as the wind plays games with my long leader and dry dropper rig. I missed two decent fish in the deep channels before making my way downstream.

The Jungle.

Snake Orgy.

A Possible Mother's Day Flower Vase.

Along the way, I was looking up trying not to wonder under an old tree or dead branch. Springtime leaves were being torn from their fresh buds and old branches were snapping off and falling into the water all around. I plowed on before reaching the confluence with a larger freestoner with nothing to show for my effort except some snakes having an orgy and a deer skull with a plant growing out of it. The jungle is beautiful but for some reason, does not support a healthy population of wild browns. Pollution perhaps. I make my way up the larger stream intent on working some water for the first time in ages.

I settle into a long stretch of water that I know holds some decent wild browns. The normally placid water is getting whipped by the wind but I flat out don't feel like changing my rig. I stubbornly wade up past my waist and work a deep stretch along the bank and a fallen tree. The seven foot rod struggles controlling the long cast in the wind. The butch caddis and UV flashback hares ear settle into a groove and work their way into the zone before the caddis dips hard. My first fish of the day is a doozy. I know immediately it is a large fish, possibly the hoss from a stocking day way upstream. It takes a four foot explosion out of the water right at me to change that opinion in an instant. It is a thick wild brown from my dreams. Large perfect fins, deep golden brown, large spots, and a hook jaw. He is gorgeous. My superfine strains as I work him into the shallows downstream. As I bend over to gently cradle my catch the barbless hook shakes free and he darts between my legs. I stop him in his tracks and admire the largest wild brown from my home waters. Ever. I reach for my camera to capture the moment and he shakes free and darts back to his lair. My heart sinks. I am left with a nice gash on the base of my thumb. A product of those lovely teeth wild browns have.

All I Have From An Encounter With a Large Wild Brown.

I Caught His Wife Though.

She Was Gorgeous.

& His Daughter.

I'll Be Back To Settle The Score.


Anonymous said...

you need to quit foolin' around with other dude's women.... just as long as you don't get caught.

Adam said...

A pile of Nerodia! Excellent...

Bigerrfish said...

Right on man!!! you made a fish bleed once didnt ya? well, what do ya expect, fair is fair