Where are the tout !!!!!

[Otter]

Very nice Willow.

But your memory fails you, Dougsden gave u the wig, i only reported the gift.

[Otter]

When you have a bad itch that will not go away you must do something about it


Unfinished Business


William had some unfinished business. He had been distracted by some very strange visitors and his thoughts had been in turmoil for days. Turners cross had been his sanctuary, shared only with Bill and they thought they knew it intimately. Dubbn had changed all that with his more intimate knowledge. When William had the night of the great trout, entered the zone, he felt that he had for that short time become a great angler but after witnessing Dougsden at work he felt a mere beginner. He had fought the demons that each night questioned his abilities, questioning his aspirations, questioning whether he deserved to fish Turners Cross. There is only one way, if you fall off the horse get straight back on the saddle.

Having made his decision, he turned to Gabby who had listened to his angst, though not understanding, she quietly listened and nodded, “I’m going back to Turners Cross and I’m going this evening”, he announced.
Most unlike William to be so purposeful, usually he sought permission to leave behind his family duties.
“Have fun, and don’t forget to come back and please bring my William back with you”; laughed Gabby.

Parking his car, he looked around the clearing. It seemed so quiet, Hanks RV was gone, no singing from Willowhead. The remnants of the camp fire were still there, some remains of the Crayfish poking up through the ash, a butt from one of Ray’s cigars. It unsettled him somewhat, what fun they had had, sharing in one of life’s great adventures. He smiled, picturing Hank doing his war dance, upside down, the wader pouring out of the waders. “I wonder will Hank ever catch a big trout, I hope he does, I hope he does.”
With effort he gathered his wits and headed for the inside riffle, and reaching the rock seat he started to feel at ease as the sound of the river took over his senses. He commenced his ritual of sitting and observing whilst setting up his rod and soon he felt renewed and vigorous, ready to go hunting. Only the merest hint of a breeze, the air was full of BWO spinners, moving upwards towards the riffly water, ready to lay their eggs.

Perfect he thought as he crossed and made his way to the pool of the Gods. All angst well forgotten he contemplated a night of blue wing heaven at the Pool of the Gods. Sitting well back, he reached into his inside pocket for his sunglasses and as he pulled them out, a cigar that Ray had given him fell to the ground. “Why not he exclaimed”; searched for his lighter and lit the cigar. He enjoyed an occasional cigar and now was as good a time as any to have one. He took pleasure in the sweet aroma, thinking Ray’s brand choice was a good one.

The sun was still quite high in the sky and though many trout were rising he felt in no hurry, there would be plenty of time and greed was no longer his primary motivator. The mass of spent Sherry Spinners on the water near the woods that Dubbn had taken them to was fresh on his mind. He hoped for such a fall this evening and contemplated the arrival of big trout to the pool. Flicking the butt of the cigar onto the river he watched it pause momentarily, slowly the current took it away. Twisting, turning, bobbing it progressed downstream, grabbed by the various currents, it was at the mercy of the stream until finally it faded out of sight.

Many an angler has been caught unawares when the sherrys fall in numbers. Fishing happily away on a riffle catching many trout of average size they soon start to wonder why few of the better trout are present. Often these falls of spinners coincide with a lot of caddis activity, surely the bigger trout should be in situe.
When the penny drops that the bigger trout are downstream at the tails of pools , in slacker water mopping up the easy pickings then it all makes sense. The wiser trout prefers an easy meal and there is no more easy pickings than spent spinners. William tied a CDC spinner pattern on the point and a small Partridge and rusty tightly wrapped seals fur Soft Hackle on a dropper.

Starting on the riffle William moved very slowly upstream, casting to each rise. A few trout responded, some were obviously latched onto caddis, some on olive emergers. William was not bothered in the least, he was there to fish his spent patterns and if any trout did not like what was on offer then that was that. William regularly glanced downstream, spotting some small trout slashing at the neck of the pool. As the sun settled towards the horizon more and more trout started to feed and swarms of female blue wings increased over the water , their ritual of dipping on the surface laying their eggs. William took his cue, wound up and headed for the bottom of the pool. Following in the knee steps of a master hunter, William got down on his knees on the gravel at the waters edge near the tail of the pool. A good fall of spinners is an unpredictable event and that makes it all the more interesting to a connoisseur angler. William watched the water, relaxing and focusing he found his mind emptying of all thoughts other than watching the water. He did not consider success or failure, quietly listening to the stream, waiting for the signs of sipping trout should they occur. More fish were rising towards the neck of the pool, slashing , likely to be small trout.

Slowly it started, a rise directly across, about 15 yards away, then another closer to the tail, soon he could identify at least eight trout, sipping regularly. He could see some spent spinners on the water, in their familiar cruciform shape, not in huge numbers but enough to interest the older trout. The old William would have started to cast but he was in the zone now and so he continued to observe, absorbing every rise form till a full mental picture was firmly in place. His senses learned to ignore the sounds of the slashing rises of the smaller trout, honing in only on the stronger sips. He waited until the rises were consistently regular, allowing the trout to feed confidently.

Unhitching his fly he drew out about ten yards of fly line, that would more than suffice for the moment. Her removed the dropper and stroked the CDC wings on the dry so that it would lie flat and flush with the surface of the water. William reached for his net and lay it at his side slightly in the water.

Choosing a trout some six or so yards downstream, close to his side, he cast downstream, lifted his rod tip high as the line unfurled and then drew the rod tip back and the fly alighted six feet above the trout. His false spinner drifted without drag to-wards the unsuspecting trout who was deceived by the ingenuity of its design and the skill of its presenter. A gentle sip followed by a gentle lift of the rod, the trout was hooked. William coaxed it gently towards him and over the waiting net. This did not always work and most trout would panic when the hook was set, but always worth trying so that the pool is not disturbed. William held the trout for a moment , a fine one of about thirteen inches, he released it with its head pointing downstream and as luck would have it, it swam off strongly downstream.

Though he had made little disturbance and the trout still rose confidently throughout the pool he paused, dried the fly in his amadou patch. His next target was directly out from him, just off the edge of the main flow. He knew that this was a prime feeding lie and likely to be a good trout. The cast was easy and the fly simply disappeared with only a small disturbance at the surface, a strong fight ensued but the trout relented and a fine trout, a few inches longer than the previous lay at the bottom of the net. This was a trout of exceptional beauty and William carefully held it in the current, the last rays of sunlight reflecting of its broad back. It swam away strongly, returned to its bolt hole, a little wiser for its capture.

Two nice trout , William was satisfied and felt no compulsion to catch another. Walking towards his car, he smiled, he was once again master of Turners Cross and the intimacy of being there left him refreshed and content.

[tie2fish]

The mastery once again rests where it should. Nice touch, Otter.

[William Anderson]

Bringing the story full circle is a nice touch. Well played.

w

[hankaye]

Otter, Howdy;

BRAVO!

Very nice encore, fitting and very well told. Compleats the cycle.

Thank you,

hank

[Otter]

Fiction rolls off the keyboard, factual being a much slower process. All's well at TC again, the way it should be, who knows , maybe Otter should pay a visit, it would seem a nice place to wet a line with friends.

[tie2fish]

An international "trout hunter" exchange program sounds like a good idea. In any event, Otter, you'll be most welcome should you visit these parts.

[willowhead]

Very fitting.....btw, i meant that "you" gave me by way of being the author. And your always welcome here as well.

[Otter]

Just fished 5 nights in a row, mrs o and the cubs have left the nest for a week or so. It has been an annual event for the past few years and my old bones are stiff and sore from clambering in and out of the river. Each night I get home around 11:30 pm, crash on the couch watch the box set of Lord Of The Rings. Finished The Two Towers last night and the Return Of the King will be watched the last of my two nights of complete freedom. This once a year trip to middle earth keeps me in touch with the world of magic.

The fishing has been difficult with adverse windy conditions curtaiing the evening rise but plenty of trout have been fooled. All thats missing is a fall of spinners, maybe tonight, maybe tonight.

[willowhead]

It's going to happen.................