I had to pull my buff over my nose to breath, because the hatch was so intense. In the thick of it all, I thought about Mark and wondered if he was having as good of a time as Jim and I were. The suspended midge is not something the average fly fisher has stuffed in their box, so I made my way downstream to find him.
“How are you doing?” I asked Mark, as he walked over to greet me.
“Man... these fish are rising everywhere, and they want nothing to do with my flies.” Mark said, holding up his flies. A size 10 Goddard caddis and a size 14 elk-hair caddis was what Mark was throwing, but it was far from what the fish were taking.
“Let me see this...” I said, clipping off his flies, and tying on a suspended midge. As luck would have it, in the amount of time it took me to walk down to Mark and tie on his fly, the fish had switched what they were keying in on.
“Wow, this fly is amazing!” Mark said sarcastically, after being refused over and over again.
“It was working just a second ago!” I protested. But he was right, it wasn’t working.
“Look, there's a PMD!” Mark yelled.
“It’s a march brown.” I said back, “Tie on a mahogany emerger of some kind.”
“I’ll try this Quigley's cripple in a mahogany.” Mark said, and flicked it out to the first rising fish. WHAM! His fly got nailed, and he quickly brought in his fish for a picture.
A few more fish were caught by us both before Jim came down to find us, and we all walked back to the truck together.
“Now that was fishing!” Jim said happily, as we all sat in the truck to warm up. We definitely deserved a good day on the water, especially after that morning. The next day we were to head home, but not before one last stop on the way back.