Fly lines

If you fish long enough, sooner or later you will have one of those magic moments. You'll find a place where the feed, the fish and the fisherman all fall into synchronization. For a moment you will know that everything is absolutely perfect.

These events are usually fleeting - it may last only an instant. In that instant you know everything is right. Your next cast is thrown with absolute certainty. It simply has to reach the water to catch a fat, healthy native rainbow of which any angler could be proud.

In recent weeks I've been fortunate enough to witness this unusual event not once but twice. The first time was during the salmonfly hatch on the Deschutes.

We camped at Whiskey Dick. The following morning was a perfect fishing day, sunny and warm. The bugs started flying early. On our first stop we fished along some rip rap banks. We were catching trout steadily right from the start.

As we drifted to the next spot we rounded a bend in the river. Here the sunshine had been on the rocks longer; the heat of the day was building even better. The salmonflies where swarming all around the trees and out over the water.

The first shade pocket I looked into I saw two or three healthy rises. That was obviously a hot spot but the second shade pocket was the hands-down winner. I saw the first trout rise as I was walking up. There was a steady supply of bugs the fish where getting everything that came through.

A salmonfly flew in above the hole. He dropped down to within inches of the water. As he dropped down, four large trout rouse up hungrily to meet him. The bug hovered for a brief moment then flew up toward the trees. The four trout dropped backed into the hole.

I couldn't move fast enough to find a client to throw a fly.

The second magical moment was on the Metolius during the green drake hatch. A friend and I had gone to one of my favorite spots on the river. We fished several runs early and didn't see much happening.

About 3:30 p.m., drakes started hatching. The trout started rising, at first sporadically, then steadily. We were catching fish steadily now and laughing it up pretty good. It was a really nice day.

We moved to a spot where there are some swirling eddies tucked under the trees, next to a deep hole. It' a tough spot to fish, but for someone willing to do the bushwacking it can be a very productive little location.

My friend and I had crawled in under the brush. We were sitting next to the water doing a little leader repair when the magic vision appeared. A little flat spot in the swirling surface currents passed just for an instant and we saw three beautiful big rainbows lined up just above a rock ledge. They were silhouetted against the sunshine in the deeper blue/green water. They were so close and so clear we saw the spots on their back and the red side stripe plainly. All where all in the 18-inch or 18-plus class.

My friend looked at me and could hardly speak. "Did you see that?" he stammered.

"Cast a fly," I offered, motioning toward the water.

In each case, the vision will be etched in my brain for years to come. The moment before the cast was so intense the actually catch seemed almost anti-climactic. These magic moments are the payoff for all the hours and hours of casting when the fishing is not so good.