Encouraged by last night's limited success, we set off for our final trip down to the Fish River for the season in hopes of landing a "wall worthy" salmon or trout. Heather and I were joined on our escapade by her parents. My father in law, Gary, was armed with his fly pole in hand and a secret arsenal of his favorite flies tucked in the pocket of his worn fishing vest. During our short walk to the water's edge, Gary recounted tales of his past journeys to some of these same fishing spots when he was my age. Meanwhile, my mother in law, Doris, was scouring the landscape for any signs of wildlife. She was rewarded, or should I say startled, by a large frog that decided to scamper across our path. We soon discovered that the river that we had all to ourselves last night had become a popular destination for several other area anglers on this overcast evening. A couple of the parties were leaving as we neared the riverbank and one of the locals stopped to chat about his success, or rather, lack thereof. Slightly discouraged, we trudged on, but the sheer pleasure of being outdoors quickly lifted our spirits. Upon arriving at a favored casting spot, we wasted no time getting our lines wet. After a mere three casts, Heather had a solid strike. She quickly re-cast a fourth time and was rewarded with a beautiful 12 inch male trout clad with his fall spawning colors. Doris snapped a few pictures and we released the fish to patrol the dark depths once again. Heather's excitement drew the attention of a nearby presumably fruitless fisherman who watched with what appeared to be envy. The score- Heather 2, Chris 0. A short while later, one of Gary's secret weapons disappeared from the surface in a swirling flash. He guided the battling fish to shore only to be discouraged by the fact that it was a chub, but delighted to have felt his fly pole come alive with the unmistakeable tug of a fish. The last catch of the evening went to Heather who was casting from a perch high above the water which allowed her to witness a chub stalk and consume her trusty lure. She was elated by this event. Score- Heather 2, Chris 0 (chub don't count). Darkness quickly settled upon us and we decided to call it a night. Check out the photos from our evening below.
|Chris landing yet another of Heather's fish|
|Close up of the beautiful colors!|
|The proud fisher-woman|
|The little fighting chub|
|Heather's trophy chub (that she won't touch)|