Water Reportage
Touché Blue Line, Touché
Species: TroutDate: Late SummerLocation: Western Washington Blue Line
I love to hatch the plan one hour before departure time. We’re going trout fishing, tiny trout creeking!
I only make two wrong turns on the way—the maze of logging roads and new clear-cuts turns us around.
Two vehicles at the parking spot and a pair of sandals (footwear seems kind of important in a place like this) on the trail are the only trace of other humans. This isn’t a destination fishery; these fish top out at like 8 inches.
Leapfrogging water with a buddy is fun. I default the nicer pools and watch micro-trout after micro-trout eat someone else’s fly. Micro-Trout TV kicks ass. I fish one foam fly, and at the end of the day the teeth marks prove it.
Over an average of two thermometers—one fancy digital and one antiquated mercury—the water is a cool 61 degrees. We find two adequately deep swimming holes, and after doing our best to catch the fish first, you bet we take the plunge second.
On the way downstream gravity and a slippery rock attack me. An unintended plunge onto boulders. I manage to neither break the fly rod in my left hand nor the camera in my right.
An ice pack on the knee this evening and the following day is a conflicting reminder. Partly a nice one of a sunny warm day fishing a small familiar stream full of eager trout in a wilderness environment. But I hurt now. More so, it serves as a welcome prompt to slow down. Which I do the rest of the way to the truck, with a slight limp. I could have easily been left with shattered equipment and further bodily harm. A reminder to take the long way home. Touché blue line, touché. A trade I’ll make any day, just not tomorrow or the next.