Silver Fork, Strike Two

I headed to Silver Fork with the intent that "3" needed to give a better performance than the last time we were there or "3" was going to spend the rest of it's short life in the corner of the office.

Now you don't think all those flies in the bushes was me, do you? After all, I'm an ace fly fisherman and could never cause that kind of disruption. 

Just to make sure (and intimidate "3") I took along Tenkara. With Tenkara in my back pocket, I put an orange Stimulator on "3" along with a new 7'6" 5x leader. I know 5x seems big, but "3" tends to lose flies if I use a 6x or something lighter. 

I bypassed where I went the last time in favor of the two spots further down the road. The first place I stopped "3" did a good job of casting the Stimulator out 20 to 25 feet. See, intimidation works.

After multiple casts and not so much as a drive by, I switched to a yellow Paralyzer. "3" was still in fine form though the 1/4 mile of the creek we worked. On the upstream side, it then got too brushy to get through. On the downstream side, the boulders were insurmountable. 

Nothing here

Nothing here either

Nope, nothing up here.

So I moved to the spot were I had the run-in with the ground bees last year or maybe it was the year before. I forget.

In the pool below, I drifted the Paralyzer, but to no avail. 

Nothing on a Paralyzer

While I was leaning on a rock, tying on a nymph to try something deep, I noticed this rock formation. It amazes me how Mother Nature can balance a rock the size of a VW Beetle on a pointed rock the size of a basketball. Believe me, all that big rock was touching was the little one underneath, and leaning against the one on the left.

Balance Rock

The nymph didn't do anything so I put the Paralyzer back on (or one out of the many I have in the fly box) and walked upstream to try another pool.

Another Pool

Once again, "3" performed flawlessly, but the fish (if there were any in the creek) stayed hidden.

So "3" redeemed itself and will fish another day. I, on the other hand, after two 1/4 mile excursions over rocks, some the size of my truck, have come to the conclusion that I'm just getting too old for all that rock hopping shit. After the second spot, I could barely get back up the hill to the truck. Seems since I turned 68, I've lost more of my "get up and go".

I think I'm going to have to find some less body damaging places to fly fish.

Maybe I'll go back up to Upper Blue Lake later this week or next week. Catch a day when it won't be so windy.