Early September is a fun time to be on the water. The heat of the summer has died down, but it’s still warm enough to wet wade and fish dries.
I’m at one of my favourite stretches of water and the fishing is great, as good as it gets, really. The fish are hitting dries and they’re doing it with gusto. I’m not landing every fish that hits, but I don’t need to. The action is furious enough that I’m having a great time.
I’m idly casting downstream, watching my fly as it drifts along the current. Somewhere behind me, the fireweeds are sending their seeds out into the world. I’m watching as white puffs ride in the currents of air all around me. The sun is shining just enough that everything takes on an ethereal quality. It’s one of those moments where, if I let my eyes drift out of focus, the world becomes a slightly more magical place. The seeds look more like fairies in a fantasy movie than anything from this world.
As I said, casting in my almost dream-like state, a trout rises and swallows my fly. I quickly lift the tip of my 3 wt. The line rips into the air, taking a spray of water with it. The sun catches the water and, for one brief second a rainbow hangs in the air.
The fish shakes its head just enough to dislodge the hook. I don’t care, not even a little bit. Nature has done its thing and I’m content.
I pack up and head home. It doesn’t get much better than that on the water.
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