The following is a draft of a post I had started but didn't finish last year. Found it on my laptop this evening.

Sunday, May 24 2009

4:45 am

Wake up to my alarm. Crawl out of my sleeping bag, then my out of my tent and stretch out the kinks. Put a pot of water onto the Coleman and head to the outhouse. It rained late yesterday and the grass is still wet.

5:00 am

Coffee is ready and as I start my first cup I can see that the sky is beginning to brighten up. It's overcast but not cold. I dig out my gear and put fresh tippet on my leader. The campground is full but it looks like no one else is up yet. I finish my first cup and gather my gear as I start my second cup. My vest was hanging on a branch during yesterdays downpour but it isn't as wet as I had expected.

5:30 am

Start a fire for my friends and step into my waders. The air is calm and quiet except for the sounds of the river. As I step into the water at the bridge I notice a thin pair of wispy clouds stuck in the canyon upriver.

I open my flybox and grin at the sight. On one side are a variety of flies, mostly nymphs and emergers. The other side holds a dozen familiar looking tan and orange flies. Sandy Mites. I had been pestering the guy at the flyshop in Ashton to carry them for years. He finally buckled and had about a hundred in stock when I stopped in yesterday. Tied on a #12 and waded to the middle.

My first cast was pretty sloppy, barely reaching the thin channel along the far bank. Before the current could take it my line went taut. Fish on! Played him quickly and netted him. Hayspur Rainbow Triploid. Fish and Game stocked the river 3 days ago with about 2,000 of them. This one is about 8 inches, a typical stocker. It's going to be a good day.

6:30 am

Finished the run from the bridge to the bend and stepped out at my campsite for another cup of coffee. Gary and Daniela are still sleeping but others at Warm River campground are beginning to stir. A Father/Son team is gearing up at the pavilion. I better get back on the river before they crowd me out.

7:30 am

I stepped in just above the bend, claiming a stretch that contains my 2 favorite holes. I call them "the eddy" and "the rock" and they are my best chance of hooking a native trout in the campground.

The eddy gave up 2 stockers so I switched to a salmonfly before wading down to the rock. The two fishermen above me were getting too close anyhow. I worked the rock for longer than I should have and moved on without a strike. Switched back to a Sandy Mite and finished the run to the end of the RV sites. Hiked back to camp.

8:30 am

Gary and Daniela are just getting up when I return to camp. Start more coffee and brag about all the fish I caught. Daniela asks to see them and I explain that I usually release them, as I had done this morning. She's disappointed because she had never eaten a trout before and was looking forward to it. Then Gary gives me the "yeah sure you caught a gaggle of trout" look.

I had no choice. As they started their first cup I grabbed my spinning rod, a jar of Pautzkes and stepped to the bank.

Truth be told, drifting an egg from the banks of Warm River should be illegal for anyone over the age of 12, especially on Memorial day weekend. Within 15 minutes I had six 8" stockers on the grass. 15 minutes after that they were sizzling in a frying pan. I showed Daniela how to properly fry and bone a trout and we all had a fresh breakfast.

10:00 am

Puttered around camp until lunch enjoying the day.