"One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi... there he is" My mind spoke quietly as I timed the gap between each rise-form. Though the surface was boiling with risers, I would target only one at a time, hoping for success.
A small black parachute was drawn tightly to the hair thin piece of tippet, and a minuscule drop of floatant accompanied the soon to be meal. As the fish rose again and again every four seconds, I sat, kneeled in the river, doing my best to get the fly in front of the fish on the fourth second. Presentation after presentation, the fly escapes the fish's grip by a mere second. As if the trout is snickering at me, his mouth appears once again, and a flick of the tail is given as he descends back into the water column. One last attempt must be made I think to myself, and without hesitation, the fly is dropped inches upstream of the fish. "One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi... " I watch intensely as the miniature fly drifts toward the awaiting mouth. What had been the longest four seconds of my life suddenly came to a swift end as the head of a fish broke the surface, gently sipping in the tiny dry fly. Twists, turns, and small, half-hearted runs followed immediately after the hook set, and a short time later the small brown trout was brought to hand. "Nice Fish" hollered another angler as I carefully returned the fine specimen to its watery living room.
Quieting my emotions temporarily, I set my sights on the next riser, positioned immediately upstream of the previous victim. I counted again between each rise-from, this time glad to be given a fifteen second gap. I knew that with a considerably larger gap of time, I could hook the fish easier, and so the first cast was dropped onto the water. Cast after cast I was beginning to question my theory, when finally a nose showed itself through the glistening surface. Jumping twice, the fish quickly lost energy, and came tiredly to hand for pictures and a swift release.
 |
| Last fish of the day had been chewed on a bit... |
The process repeated again one last time, and as the sun began to drop behind the mountains, I decided to call it a day, knowing that my parents would soon start wondering what had happened to me. I threw all the gear in the back, and drove off into the sunset, blaring the country music.
