Sunday, September 19, 2010

Father Son Time.

Every now and then my father gets a day off of work, and every now and then, on one of those days, he gets to go fly fishing. On this particular day, we head off around noon after my father gets home from night shift. He hasn't had much sleep but he still wants to go. We head to a local limestoner, whose water levels and temperatures are still operating at good enough levels to fish for trout. We spend about three hours probing the shallow runs and pockets of water for any signs of life. On our first pass, we get blanked. Working our way back upstream, the sun has crept behind the trees and shade envelops the very holes we just fished through. Trout start coming to hand.


Big Poppa Pump Fishing in Style.

Bad Camo.


Wild Browns.

Big Poppa Pump has now reached a point in his fly fishing rankings to fish alone and perform well. I never really had him out practicing in the yard or reading books about fly fishing. I figure the best way to learn is how I learned. On the stream, actually fishing. With this formal lack of instruction, his progression has been slow but each time out, he picks up something new. I am confident now that I can work my way upstream or downstream and he will have the ability to catch fish all by his lonesome. He now knows where to cast and how to mend to reach the optimal presentation. My theory was put to the test as he hooked into a stout rainbow. The largest non-lake run fish he has ever caught and he did it all by himself.

Beauty of a Bow Asking to Be Caught.

Big Poppa Pump Gets Him.


Personal Best for the Old Man.


Another Great Bow Getting Off the Hook.


Good Camo.

PT Scores Again.