Saturday, June 20, 2009

Riffle Rendezvous

Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you. He will never let the righteous fall. Psalms 55:22

Like an old friend who waits for my return, my riffle is back and ready to fish. Last year during the floods, the river's landscape dramatically changed. My favorite rockpile and stream site sustained punishment from the pounding waters. I feared I might never fish my spot again. Yesterday with another low water day, I resolved to wade across the swift water and determine if it was again fishable. Even though the white rock which had been my marker was covered up, I found the rock collection in much deeper water, but wadable. I pulled my cinch knot tight on my White River Angel fly and threw across the swiftly moving water and allowed it to drift down stream. Within the first two casts, I landed a glistening Rainbow. The next several casts rewarded my net with five more fish. Each one was carefully released to await my next trip. Wishing to get closer to the far shoreline where I'd hooked and lost a nice Brown two years ago, I waded into deeper swifter water. I planted my wading boots hard into the gravel bed, but the current still rocked me with a constant pressure. After several casts along the edge of the mud and with no more fish, I began to feel uneasy at the continuous push of the water and realized I was close to losing my balance. Two giant Blue Herons fussed at me with raucous language. Deciding to heed their advice, I reeled in my fly, attached it to my rod and ever so cautiously turned around to seek a shallower spot. I stumbled over a large unseen rock, but regained my footing thanks to my wading staff and a small prayer. Finally I reached a more comfortable position but with no takes. I walked up the gravel bar and fished the end of it where there is heavier water and a deep cut; but netted no fish. By this time, the sun slid over the horizon and I decided to return to the riffle. I threw in a slightly different direction and again, waited for the fly to drift downstream. Two more fish plunged at the end of my line before I left. I'd accomplished what few rookies do: caught and released over my limit in an afternoon of fishing. I will rejoin my old pal riffle on another low water day. The rockpile and the fish will be waiting.

1 comment:

  1. Rita, that sounds like so much fun but I worry about you wading in the swift river. Are you fishing alone? Are you wearing a life vest? Not that it does much good if you're in that cold water too long. Please be careful.