Nostalgia.

In the past, I learned how to fly fish on a local stream on my neighbors property. I had access to this secluded area because my brother, father, and I cut his grass and performed other odds and ends. This was rather time consuming because the property is rather large. In return for our hard work, we had the opportunity to fish in his two acre pond and in the area of stream that flowed through his land. Often, when my brother and father were toiling mowing the grass, I was plying my craft on the resident wild brown trout. The fishing was tough because it is a small stream with tight quarters and spooky fish. I learned a lot on that piece of water.

Small Stream Wonders.

Evidence.

Stocker Bow.

Release.

Stocker Brook Trout.

Wild Brown.

Spots Galore.

Remnants From The Night Before.

As the years passed, we stopped mowing our neighbors grass and taking care of his property. Other neighbors answered the call and I stopped frequenting the stream because I felt I no longer had access to the source. Five years passed and I had yet to fish that piece of water that resides a few hundred yards from where I sleep. I had a strong urge to find out what was happening in that stretch and to see if the wild browns were still there. So, recently I decided I was going to fish that water. I awoke before light crept over the trees, grabbed my two weight, and power fished a good  half mile of water. Everything was just as I remembered it, including the wild browns. My nymphs still got stuck on the same pieces of slate and my leaders still got tangled in the same branches of overhanging evergreens after a missed hook set. The experience was nostalgic in so many ways and it was a great reminder of how I got started in this sport.

Another Wild Brown.

Adipose.

A Wondering Fawn.

UV Hares Ear Scores.

Stocker Brookie To End The Morning Jaunt.