A Perfect Day

Every now and then a day comes along that is perfect to be out on the water with good company. This past weekend produced one of those days. For an entire Sunday, we had a mile of water completely to ourselves. The skies were cloudless, the suns rays pierced through the trees, and a slight breeze kept us from sweating from the long hikes throughout the day.

These conditions illuminated the canyon, where large boulders interrupted the flow of water downstream. Overhead, a canopy of trees provided long shadows on top of the water while the silence was only interuppted by the sound of rushing water. The water was cold and clear, the product of a bottom release on the dam upstream. The only sign of imperfection was flowing downstream en masse after being uprooted by higher flows: didymo. Nicknamed rock snot, the nuisance lived up to its nickname by sticking to our flies and knots.

Our admiration for the surroundings was periodically interrupted by something else: wild brown trout. Completely pristine and out of place compared to the large metropolises a half hour away, they are small slabs of gold, brown, and red. Perfect in their own little way. My brother once described them as appearing, "like a vein of gold mined from the black granite boulder I was huddled over". I couldn't help but think about that line, as we made our way up the canyon, mining for brown trout gold, under a cloudless blue sky.