Blue River

Sunday, I arrived above Green Mtn Reservor at 8:30 to a river flowing at 200cfs, with air temps and grey windy skies that would cause snow to fly later in the day. After crossing the swift river to a likely looking slower area along the far margins, I cast a black woolly bugger up and across from my 4 wt a few times. Letting the fly swing down and across over a small depression in the riverbed, just as it started to swing out the indicator paused and I slowly lifted the rod. On the end was a nice 20" cutthroat shaped like a football.

After I released him, I saw two large fish swim upstream in front of me. After looking for a while I spotted one of them tucked up under a tangle of overhanging branches along the bank. No way I could get a fly in there I thought, and considered not even trying. Then, after a few minutes of studying the situation I saw an opportunity to cast upstream, mend over a large exposed boulder and swing the fly under the branches. After a few tries I nailed the cast and waited as the indicator floated in line toward the fish and then stopped.

As soon as I set the hook I knew the chance of landing him were very small - 4 wt rod, 5x tippet and a swift river don't usually add up. This was one of those fish that don't move when you put the hook in the corner of its mouth but, after a few seconds slowly drift toward you and thrashed their head wildly out of the water. This nearly 30" rainbow, with bright red cheeks and sides, was ready to give me a wild ride. And then he stopped. And then he ran down stream. But he was still in the slower water so I thought, foolishly for a moment, that I had a chance. Then he went into the current and downstream behind a boulder, positioning himself, using all the exposed boulders like squares on a chess board. I knew what was about to begin. This was not a time to hold the rod up in the air with one hand and grip the cork lightly against the fat thumb cushion. This was going to be a tuck your elbow in and pull back on the rod fight about to unleash. I chased him a bit, stumbling over rocks. And then he pushed out into the stream behind the next boulder down. I angled him a bit, and he paused, and I made some progress pulling in line on him. Then the reel screamed, and screamed taking me nearly into my backing. Snap. Broke off and kept four feet of leader, my indicator and wooly bugger. I returned to the scene of the crime and sat on a boulder.

Later I landed a 18" brown on another WB and then returned back to where I hooked the huge rainbow. There, dangling in the current, was my indicator. He was back!!! I quickly tied on a golden stonefly. Thunder crashed over the mountains. Sleet started and I pulled my hood over my head. Game on, I thought.

I few casts later and he took it. Again, no response for a few seconds until I put some side pressure on him. He moved away, thrashed, and was gone again. The fly slipped out this time. I could still see him there and tried a third fly. This time he didn't bother.