Fly fishing come hell or high water...

     Living in Florida these past few years has taught me to appreciate what has now become my infrequent opportunities to jump into a trout stream, cast a fly, and enjoy that occasional tug on the end of the fly line.  After undergoing a total knee replacement last summer and enduring months of rehab, I was bound & determined to fish over Christmas break.  Mother Nature as is her want to do, didn't care to cooperate as Virginia's trout waters were running higher and faster than I've fished before.  Too bad -- I'm going fishing!

 

 I realized hitting Shenandoah National Park on the 29th with my friend Ryan would be challenging during my drive out as every river I crossed was swollen and running hard.  The Park was no different -- when you're having difficulty traversing and wading one of the freestone streams -- tough conditions would prevail.  My knee held out, which was a positive outcome.  The fish I believe were tucked away holding out for the roaring water to subside.  What limited water could be found usually produced a strike.


Although not a vintage day in the mountains, I was thrilled to be back doing what I love.

A couple days later I was back in the water on New Year's Eve.  Conditions were still higher than normal, but the water was fishable and fish were there - if you worked hard enough for them.  Dead drifting nymphs proved most successful with zebra midges, copper johns, pheasant tails and green weenies all fooling a few trout during the day.

The rainbows did not disappoint in their battling behavior.  I landed this one, but my last hookup of the day the trout cleared the water 3-4 feet from the bank, broke off, and literally rocketed & landed on shore! True story.  Two flops later and he was back in the water and gone.

I brought to hand several in the 14-16 inch range, but lost 2-3 really, really big bruisers.

I also used a 3-wt rod I had built with the assistance of Marty and his Quantico Project Healing Waters crew a few years ago.  I had not used the rod previously and really enjoyed its performance.  The rod definitely got put through the paces....






... as did my Orvis Battenkill reel !

Only two fish were fooled by wooley buggers. This was one of them.

Sometimes I guess the fish are a little camera shy,,, and want to get back to their homes.

Like these two, they just want to get back to their stream-side haunts.

I'm not sure when my next fly fishing trip  will be... maybe North Georgia in early June when I travel up there as an instructor for the the Navy JROTC Leadership Academy, or maybe New Hampshire's famed Connecticut River  during my all-too-short summer vacation.  Hopefully Matt or my brother Marc will be part of the adventure.  But until then, these pleasant memories of Virginia will have to sustain me until that next time.

Tight lines !