Being born and raised in Arizona there is always one thing I can count on, 100+ degree summers. What happens in Arizona is the masses head north on the weekends to cool off. What does this mean to the small stream enthusiast? Lots and lots of campers, kids running/swimming through the streams, and spin fisherman with their powerbait, etc... With that being said I decided to head to a place off the beaten path.
I arrived at my parking spot at 5:15 AM, right as the sun was coming up over the mountains. It was about 58 degrees out which felt like absolute heaven and a good change of pace from the 102 I had been in all week. I began hiking down the rugged winding trail, about 2 miles total to the bottom. As excited as I was to finally reach the stream the thought of hiking back up that 2 mile trail after fishing all day made me cringe. I could hear the cicada and hoppers chirping all around and there wasn't a doubt in my mind what I was going to be casting.
This stream was made up of very thick bushes and shrubs. Long slow pools would dominate for about 1/4 of a mile and then it would become completely choked out. The whole day turned out to be the same routine over and over again, fish 1/4 mile, hike 1/4 of a mile. As I fought my way to the second deep pool I could see the top of the water exploding every 15 seconds. As aggressive as these trout were being they could be easily spooked. I crouched down behind a bush and laid a cast right next to a large boulder, and in a split second the fly was gone. I managed to take 3 trout from this pool, including probably the prettiest rainbow I have landed from a small stream in Arizona.
After a few more casts and no more action I decided to head deeper into the winding canyon. It's an amazing feeling being directly at the bottom of a narrow canyon in complete seclusion. It seemed every time I came through the brush another picture perfect section of the stream appeared. The next section seemed to be right on point with the last section. The fish were in a feeding frenzy on everything terrestrial. At times the chirping was so loud I could barely hear myself think. I couldn't think of a better blessing when casting a fly rod on a small stream.
This devil decided to jump right out of the water onto the shore at me. Imagine if all the fish just decided to dive bomb you when you hooked them? It would give fly fishing a new meaning...
Casting from inside a bush as usual.......
I couldn't have asked for a better day on the stream. I was able to explore a new place and land fish after fish. Nothing gets me more excited than exploring a new place with my rod in search of good water holding wild trout. After finally reaching the top of the canyon I could see my vehicle. My car never looked so good and I was able to close the book on a memorable fishing trip.
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