Pools of water offered good opportunities for catching fish, and I saw my dad just upstream from them.
“Dad. Did you fish these pools?” I asked.
“No.” He replied.
“Did you just walk through them?” I asked, rhetorically.
“Yeah, is that bad?” He asked.
“Well, there could have been fish in them.” I said, before I suggested we continue upstream where the water became glass smooth.
“Okay, Dad.” I said standing still and pointing to the water's edge. “The fish will be hiding near the tall grass, and we need to sneak up on them slowly.”
“OK.” He agreed, and together we walked up the creek. A small riffle on the smooth surface indicated a rising fish.
“Did you see that?” I said, stopping in my tracks.
“See what?” My dad asked. Just then the fish rose again, and this time he was on it. The first few casts were a bit too far from where the fish rose, but the third cast landed right near the grassy bank.
“Perfect!” I said, watching intently at his fly. My dad kept his line taught, and a fish took!
“There it is!” I yelled, and my dad set the hook!
His fish darted back to the nearest undercut bank and he gathered his line, hooking his fly to his fly rod.
“Ok, your turn.” He said, and we switched places in the river. I flicked out my CDC caddis, searching for a fish. Finally one took and I brought in the fish fast.
"How did you know there was a fish there?” My dad asked, after my fish swam off.
“I didn’t...” I said, “I was just casting to places that looked like there were undercut banks.” I pulled back some tall grass, revealing an undercut bank for my dad.
“Oh, wow.” He said, “That goes back pretty far.”
“Yeah, the fish hide there so birds won’t snatch them up.” I said, “That's why we are casting near the grass. If there is a fish nearby it will come out and eat my fly, just like the last fish did.” We took a few more steps upstream, and my dad was keeping his eyes on the undercut banks when something caught his eye.
“A crab thing!” He said, pointing into the water.
“Hey, it’s a crawdad!” I said happily, taking out my net and scooping it up for a better look.
“See, we just needed some color in our flies.” My dad said, after bringing in his fish.
“Sure, Dad.” I said, just as another fish rose.
“Okay, it’s your turn.” My dad said, reeling in his line.
“No, Dad. Go ahead and get that fish that just rose.” He pulled out some line and casted over where we saw the fish. The fly hit the water gently, and a sizable mouth came up and ate the fly.
“Set it!” I said excitedly, recognizing a bigger trout. My dad set the hook a little late, and missed the fish.
“You better get this one.” He suggested, but I refused, giving my dad another shot. He placed the fly out just the same as before, and the fish took again! The hook set was better this time, but still no fish.
“I want to see you try.” My dad suggested, and so I got into position. The fish had moved upstream a bit, so we got a little closer before I made my cast. My blue damsel hit the water, and the fish hit fast!
“You got him!” My dad yelled, as my rod danced with a fish.
“This is a nice sized fish for this river.” I said, netting it and snapping this picture.