I’m ready to call my fly fishing season just about over. 

Pictured above is one of my favorite fishing holes.  I went fishing this afternoon, because I’ve enjoyed having lots of fish to eat, and fishing is a good thing to do on a beautiful afternoon when your legs are still cooked. 

I went for the greatest hits tour, the above hole and another, which is even more consistent.  Second cast into the first hole, explosion of water, two hands on the rod, and soon a 13 inch cutt was brought to hand.  I spent a further hour in the same spot, trying a bunch of different flys (mostly ones I’ve tied), and while I had strikes on nearly every cast for one reason or another I only got one other fish on a hook.  A tiny little guy that really looked like a cutt/brookie hybrid, with underjaw slash, dark sides, and big halo’d spots.  He fought like a brookie too, so I put him back quick, without a photo. 

Moving on, the hole above produced one cutt, an 8 incher that slurped in the fly at the far end of the drift while I wasn’t looking, then fought for his very life.  No other fish gave any hint of their presence, even though the bugs were a hatchin.  A tried different angles and presentations, then different flies.  When a wooly bugger got caught under a log I broke the tippet and called it a day.

And a nice day it was.  Mountain bikers and dog walkers were out in force all the way home, and all four eddies where Rattlesnake Creek enters into the Clark Fork had a fisherman ensconced.  This year, we get a full-on Indian Summer, at least for this week.