Saturday, September 09, 2006
Seasons on the Deschutes
"Hope springs eternal" as we have endured the long dreary winter. The seemingly endless series of storms and the disdainful practice of using a heavy sinking line that comes no where near the vicinity of the fish. How many flies do I really need to tie after all while I wait for the coastal streams to drop and clear enough to make a fly fishing trip a little less insane? How many times can I wax my cane rods? Yes that first trip over the mountain, full of hope and dreams of rising trout. I know that when spring training for baseball starts that trout is not far behind.
The days are getting shorter and the dam counts are getting higher. After fruitless attempts to coerce lethargic summer runs to come to my fly in the 70 degree water of most rivers the first hint of fall can only mean it's time to head to Maupin. The October caddis will be doing their suicidal dive bombings into the water which will make my spey casted muddler irresistible to the steelhead don't you think?
So after a trip or two to the mouth of the river to watch the float tube daredevils cheat death at the Blackberry Hole it's time to head up river.