The First Trout of The Season

Every season starts with anticipation of the first Trout of the year.  

This process starts during the winter months with tying flies in preparation of what may come. 

I usually start with nymphs then some wooly buggers, streamers and then dry flies. I pull out maps and let my mind take me to the stream. As spring approaches, I began to check my gear. The realization of replacing my old leaky waders becomes apparent and the economy is stimulated by preseason supply runs. I mean you can’t just buy waders; you need a Rock Hoper sun shirt and some sharp looking polarized sunglasses. It’s all relative, the more you prepare the higher likelihood of success. I find this a great justification to help small business.   

  

The first day on the water of a new season is magical. It seems like the air always has a spring mildew mist with just a hint of winter hanging on. My expectation is always low for catching fish and high for the experience. The art of the cast is what draws the early spring season close to my heart. While the hope is always there to catch a fish it’s the art of fly fishing and more specifically the cast that has drawn me to love this sport. To see a fly line in motion with its perfect loop unrolling on the water’s surface is where heaven and earth meet.  

  

 As this season would have it the first and the second time on the water were learning experiences and getting the rust off the casting arm. This always leads to one questioning if they remember in fact how to catch a fish. Have I forgotten everything? Do I even know what flies to choose? The mind is a wondrous place, it can take us to faraway adventures, or it makes us second guess every decision we ever made.  

  

It was the end of April, the 25th to be exact. It was a Friday evening after work, and I had time to try a few spots. Spring rain had subsided and finally the streams were what I call perfect.  I hit the road and hit one of my favorite spots and much like the rest of the season, not a hit. I keep at it and hit my next spot, with the same results. I checked the time and, as luck would have it, I had just enough light left to hit one more spot for the day.  

  

This spot takes a little bit of work to get to. First you must hike down a receding stream bank followed by a rope climb down a steep bank. From here you have to climb down a series of waterfalls to get to the section of stream you want to fish. This was my first time on this stretch of river for the season. I start with some of the closer places as I work my way to where I know there has to be a fish.  

  

I get to where I want to fish, and the first cast reveals much like everything else this season, nothing. Not deterred I keep fishing. I’m not sure how many casts there were, but when my nymph hit the run, something hit. I raised my rod, and the line went zipping out. The excitement was on fire! It didn’t take me long to realize that I had a dandy of a brown trout on. The fight was intoxicating. There were several runs up and down stream. My S-Glass Beaver Meadow was bending like a bow and arrow. Then finally after a few attempts to get this beautiful monster to the net. SUCCESS!!  An absolute giant beautiful brown trout was landed. The trout gods had been kind to me this day; in my hands not only did I have the first trout of the season but a trout that will not be soon forgotten at 19 inches a true spectacle of nature.  

  

The Adirondack Trout Bum 

Alvin H Montana II