I went to RI Friday night with Steve Culton. He forgot the port, but the cigars were good and the fishing was sensational. We didn't catch much - maybe half a dozen stripers between us - but the work week had been hard and to stand in a salt pond in the midst of thousands of menhaden, literally bathing in fish, with the wind blowing and the senses alive, well, it's a wonderful way to end the week, and quite necessary. It hardly seems to matter that the fall run seems to be "disappointing" this year, or at least that we haven't been lucky enough to guess the right night.
Ready for RI&PP. I have a new head lamp. It shines blue as well as red.
I always look forward to visiting my parents in law, who have a wild brook trout stream at the bottom of their garden. They happen to be nice folks too.
I followed the brook as far as I could and ended up in mountain goat territory, catching one trout in each pool along the way; from 9" beauties to some of the smallest I've ever seen - fish of little over 2" that would look a better prospect with a yoke sack attached. I sat on a parapet downstream of the culvert (above) and pinged a hopper up into the opening. I think the fish must see out the heat of summer in this deeper hole, as I took 6 of them from this one spot alone.
The stream is in western CT, barely an hour from NYC. I think this is an incredible fact.
I think it may have been the best day of the year.
Here is a picture of one of the fish. It isn't very good because I couldn't capture all the colors and vibrancy of today.
You really had to be there.
-- JA
Nice place to play Jon.
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