A day or so ago I had the desire to fish a small stream I had fished many times over the years. But some how I had lost touch with this pristine stream and had not fished it in perhaps 5 or so years. It's freestone stream that's kept quite cool shaded by hemlock and hardwoods. It flows freely with no dams, only the log jams from storms seem to slow it some what.

As I walked down to the stream, on this cloudy day I could hear birds chirping and a Blue Jay scolding something or maybe it was me he did not approve of.
The sounds of rushing water are wonderful. Some how I never bring a recorder to capture it. One day perhaps. I dropped a thermometer into the water and it showed 60 degrees. A temp good for trout. I tied on a Pickett Pin wet fly and began searching for my first fish. It wasn't long before I felt that strike. I would love to tell you the fish was a nice brook trout but it never came to hand. While loosing a few is common I did manage a few jewels to grace the lens of my camera, for that I'm thankful.

This day went down into the journal as one to remember. An old stream, dry and wet flies, a 6ft 2wt that got a workout and several wild brookies to behold.




A pristine wild place.



Lots of places to hide.



They are part of it too.



A wild brook trout, and a "Bomber"



We must protect this
In order to have this.





Brk Trt