Tonaquint River

Headed up to a nearby stream hoping to get into some nice fish. I have seen some hogs in the lower stretch of the river, and I wanted to see if I could finally trick one. This section is almost entirely on private land, and runs behind a lot of cabin/houses that are usually empty. Much to my dismay, most of the cabins had the summer residents in them. I didn't feel like getting into any fights with angry landowners, I didn't feel like breaking the law by trespassing, and I didn't feel like swimming (some parts are too deep to really wade...). After landing a few smallies and receiving more than one stank eye, I headed back to my car and drove to the upper section. I had tied up some elk hair caddis (my fourth fly tied, they aren't too great), but some same caddis in the air so I put on a brown one. I fished a decent stretch of water and caught a ton of small fish. I have fished this river a bunch and have only caught browns so I was happy to land this guy.

I was coming up to a nice riffle and saw a fish struggling in the rocks at the tail of it. I didn't see the fish swim out of the rocks it was in, so I put down my rod and stuck my hands in. After a few bobbles I nabbed this little guy, bare-hand style.

I fished up to the reservoir above the stream and decided to fish it, since I never had before. It was pretty crowded. It made me happy to have discovered fly fishing a few months ago. Every 20 seconds or so I would hear a "ZIIIIING.... PLUNKKK" as a bobber would land. Every so ofter I would overhear the wise father saying to his young children, "Patience kids, fishing is a patience sport. Just watch that bobber and if it sinks you yank the pole." Ziiiiiing, Plunk. Ziiiiiing, Plunk.