Shooting Stars.

Part One.

One of the longest stretches of teaching without a school day off was about to come to a close. With the month of October in the rear view mirror and Thanksgiving on the horizon, I sped home as soon as I could. It was a beautiful Friday afternoon. A few phone calls later the weekend became finalized. It was Oak Orchard and browns over the Salmon River and steelhead. The memory of my failure to land a brown two weeks prior could not escape my thoughts. Reaching home, I scarfed down a home cooked meal, played with the dogs, and tied up some killer egg patterns. I hit the lights off switch and took a nap with both dogs as blankets.

I Dreamt of Browns.

Hitting the road at midnight, the cloudless skies enlightened the stars on the horizon and a shooting star streaked in front of my view. I made a quick wish and laughed at out loud at my feeble attempt to rid myself of my tributary slump. Picking up Adam, we hit the turnpike North and listened to tunes both new and old. You had a broad range of music from the heavy metal of Disturbed to the intoxicating voice of Rihanna. You listen to anything on the road from 12 am to 5 am. We hit the parking lot at Oak Orchard at 5:30 and were streamside by 6. The light emerging in the sky, my first strike came quickly. Landing the average female brown, the slump was over and a fishy grin could be seen stretched across my face from ear to ear.

First Fish @ First Light.

Smitten.

Crazy Colorful With A Huge Kype.

Possible Fish of the Year.

Perfection.

Upon Closer Inspection.

The Exaggerated Extended Reach.

The hits kept coming at a rapid rate and moments later, I landed the largest brown trout of my life thus far. She tipped the scale at 10.2 pounds but I would have guessed 15. After that, the day just kept getting better and better. I was having one of those days. The day of days, that fly fishermen receive once or twice a year. Everything seemed to have fallen in place. The water temperature was perfect to go along with the water level and clarity. The fish were crushing tiny egg patterns after long extended drifts under an indicator. The switch rod made it seem too easy. The stars had aligned for me just right. I probably will not have a better day of fishing in quite some time.

Colorful Football Male.

Average Female.

Glory Shot.

Big, Fat, Hen.

Admiration.

Even More Admiration.

A Closer Look.

The Big Momma.

I Was Shaking.

About as Happy as You'll Ever See Me.