DSC0264121 Dec 2014

Prime fly water

Somewhere along the line, these sparkling emerald waters crowned with ancient slabs of dull sandstone became my home water.  Originally the arrangement seemed to form due to convenience,
I could make it there for a quick session after work in summer.

In the beginning the numbers and size of the fish were nothing remarkable, but I enjoyed knowing the water, every pool, bend and snag.  As the summers came and went I learnt to read the mood of the river.  The flow, weather and insect behaviour all providing clues as to what could be expected before a fly was even cast.  I mastered where to find the fish and where not to waste time.  Which fly to cast and what time of day.  I knew the likelihood of any cast getting a take before it was even made.  When the conditions were right, I could hit all the hot spots and rack up good numbers.  But still, the fishing was not as good and the fish not big as many other waters that I preferred to fish when gifted with a full day or weekend.

For all my experience, occasionally, I even still got skunked.

DSC0263821 Dec 2014-1

The home turf

Fishing that river became a routine; routine seemed to bring frustration.  Somedays I would be irked if I could not get a rise from a snag I knew always held fish.  Eventually, I knew the water so well I could have fished it in the dark of night.  And so, I did.  Thats when I realised I had been doing it all wrong.

That night, I crabbed my way through the darkness to a hole that usually produced a fish or two.  I could not see my line or fly as I cast, but heard it hit the water.  That first cast I caught the largest fish I had ever caught in that river.  Followed by two more without taking a step.

I thought I had this place figured.

DSC02625_221 Nov 2014

Humble beginnings


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