Its 6:00 am. Bags are half way packed, gear is spread out on the floor, in the corner sits a fly in the vise that is only moderately started, Red Bull half way down and I can't find my 3wt reel…$&#$%!!!! Ohhh, there it is sitting right in front of me, staring at me during my entire whirling dervish act. Looking around the front room I thought, how in five minutes could I create such a disaster? After cleaning up my freak-out and re- packing all my things I turned on the computer and sat down to finish some needed Midges. I observed a few words on the screen and thought…. Shit…. What to do now… Right at that second my phone rang, it was MFRW (Chris B), and he had seen the same letters and read the same sentence. That's all it took, change of plans. Don't need that 3wt anymore today or the flies that I had to finish…. This always happens. Perhaps I should wise up and do some reverse sociology and start tying flies that I don't want to use because I never end up using the flies that I think I might "need" anyway. It's an ongoing joke that life likes to play on me… ha ...ha…ha.
About the same time the phone rang Nick and Matt were pulling in the driveway. I explained the new intelligence that had just come in over the wire. After two-point-nine seconds of dialogue we changed course and headed in the opposite direction in search of open water.
Arriving after sun-up the water looked inviting. The weather was already heating up for winter standards, the wind was calm and nobody was around. Perfect. A quick breakdown of the day's arsenal was talked about. The decision was made to go with a fast sinking tip. We all had variable lengths in leader and penciled in our starting colors. Nick had black, Matt took green and I had on white. Walking down from the car was the first "point", Nick had the gravel, Matt had the "block" and I took the… nothing really, just a piece of shoreline. Matt was on right away, and then again. Before we had the chance to figure out what was going on he was releasing another Cutthroat. Shit…. I mean, good job Matt ; ) Nick and I scrambled to our boxes of flies. I didn't really have anything green, dam it; I should have been tying Stillwater stuff. I found something that might work. By this time Matt had at least a half dozen fish and who knows how many more hits, and saying something like "Oh, oh, ooh, yep
As we made our way around Matt spotted a game warden. He scrambled to find his license just incase we were asked. For the next hour or so the warden was seen checking everyone's license. Finally, I thought this might be the first time in my life that I have been checked. Well, unfortunately we were the only group that wasn't approached…ironically we were the only fly guys… go figure?
Last spot before we headed back produced my only Tiger. He hit it less than 5 feet from the shore but took off like a bat out of hell. I was stoked, mission accomplished. Need more Stillwater,???