Posted on July 22 2015
Stopped at Buckingham launch site to see if there were any bugs. There
were enough big yellow ones and little green ones on the water to lure
me into a walk down the "trail" towards the river house pool. Big
mistake, anyone who hasn't walked that path in midsummer after high
water has flattened the grass doesn't know what they are missing. Felt
soled wading boots and mud are a deadly combination. Made it back to
the car in one piece, just before the afternoon T-boomer, without
seeing a single rise.
Next stop was on the WB at the scene of a 2/6 performance against
sulfur sippers earlier this week. Went 2/5 this time (sometimes if
you quit early you come out ahead). Tried another pool (now a fast
paced run) and found fish eating stenos (slower water, bigger hook,
better results).
On the way back to camp, I stopped on the EB where isos were being
greeted by hard rising rainbows. The place has been fished hard and
the fish have learned to eat the fast swimming nymphs and not, (under
any circumstances) the duns.
One boat, rowed by a long time river friend, guide Jerry Hadden,
passed me in the heavy fog and I may have seen another angler several
hundred yards downstream when the fog parted, but couldn't be sure.
were enough big yellow ones and little green ones on the water to lure
me into a walk down the "trail" towards the river house pool. Big
mistake, anyone who hasn't walked that path in midsummer after high
water has flattened the grass doesn't know what they are missing. Felt
soled wading boots and mud are a deadly combination. Made it back to
the car in one piece, just before the afternoon T-boomer, without
seeing a single rise.
Next stop was on the WB at the scene of a 2/6 performance against
sulfur sippers earlier this week. Went 2/5 this time (sometimes if
you quit early you come out ahead). Tried another pool (now a fast
paced run) and found fish eating stenos (slower water, bigger hook,
better results).
On the way back to camp, I stopped on the EB where isos were being
greeted by hard rising rainbows. The place has been fished hard and
the fish have learned to eat the fast swimming nymphs and not, (under
any circumstances) the duns.
One boat, rowed by a long time river friend, guide Jerry Hadden,
passed me in the heavy fog and I may have seen another angler several
hundred yards downstream when the fog parted, but couldn't be sure.
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