Spring has Sprung

Things are looking up to include this spec

Every Spring my soul anticipates the start of trout season.  There's a sense of longing that's only quenched with a spring brookie in hand.  In mountain streams catch and release waters the start isn't marked on a calendar, it's
when the water pushes 41-42 degrees, usually in the first week of March. With forsythia blooming and red-budded branch trips ready to burst their winter shackles I decided to hit my home waters of the Rapidan.

The water above the second bridge is amazing

As I jeeped around a familiar bend in Criglersville I glimpsed a full pool on the Rose, but I knew my destination waters would be a fishably lower a thousand feet up the Shenandoah Ridgeline.   I love the process of getting to the river and sipped coffee as James and I crept up the deeply-rutted Rapidan Fire Road noting new trees chain sawed across the road and rock slides.  Normal cars don't make this trip.  People would be normal(er) if they did.  Descending the switchbacks we found three trucks at Junction Pool, a gang of grey-haired children gearing up.   

My destination waters were above the second bridge.  Scott taught me that the steep terrain there keeps less hearty anglers from questioning its narrow walls and the river sees less pressure.  The holes are to die for.  Fly-fishing in this stretch is alot about rock scrambling and unlocking the beautiful mysteries of the next pool.

We geared up with 2 and 3 wts and high hopes.   The cold water soothed deep knee bends and we found small black stoneflies creeping on rocks and brook trout stirring from their winter lethargy.   As the sun peeked down over the high ridge line surface strikes increased, but the majority of the takes were on size 18/20 BH droppers suspended under dries. 



This wasn't a day for long casts, but more for micro swings and placement into quiet water giving the dropper an opportunity to fall to depth rather than being trailed through the froth and current.   "Watch you drag", "rod tip up",  "line off the water" and "that's a fish" were our refrains.  

View from below the 'log-pool' ref below, the trout hit about 4' in front of me

We lunched on PB&Js and pretzels in a setting I wouldn't have traded and leapfrog-fished all the way up to the Rapidan Cabins.   I thought I'd caught my last trout and wasn't planning on taking another cast when James scooted ahead determined to catch one more.  I chased him and found a newly created log-pool stretching the
width of the river creating a 3 foot waterfall along its length.   I LOVE standing below a waterfall and fishing chest-level into the pool.  With cold silvery water finding a hole in my waders (I was deep) I lower my sight line
just a few inches above the pool and watched my dry in profile.   When the small trout lifted 2" out of the water to snatch my dry I gave a whelp of joy and hustled him in, only to find another larger trout on my dropper!  A
double on my last cast.   With that great memory we called it a day and made our way back to the muddy jeep.