Sweet

It's a lovely evening at Clear Creek.

I take pleasure in the soothing act of flipping the fly into the current and watching it make its enticing swing into likely locations. It swings right up against this rock, and a fish suddenly appears behind it. It hangs there and watches the fly. Just as the fly is ready to break for open water, the fish pounces.

What a beauty.

On downstream, past a sculpture created by the current, a small fish comes out of nowhere.

I'm working the rocks now. The fly swings over to this rock, bumps the side and slips around to the front. It brings a fish around with it, and the take is quick.

Another beauty.

I arrive at the island. As I hoped and suspected, recent rains have brought the stream up. The island is a proper island again, completely surrounded by water.

I explore the right channel.

Then I cut across the island. I'm eager to get the fly into the riffle and run.

The riffle is singing away, and just at the end of it a fish is waiting.

Down in the run I get overeager and snag a root at the base of the dirt bank across from me. Luckily, I can wade over and retrieve the fly. While I'm on that side of the run, and before I can disturb the water anymore with a return wade, I make a few more swings. Just at the end of the run another fish takes the fly.

It was nothing big and fancy, but it was all that I ask for: a sweet time on a sweet little stream.