I was standing at the head of a pool called "The Confluence Pool". I had just released a smallmouth and begun making the long roll cast to the eddy on the far side when I heard people coming down the east branch of the river system. A young man and his girlfriend came into view. The man was carrying a bag and a beautiful little fly rod that was still rigged. They made a wide arc so as not to spook the head of the pool. Coming down the same bank the man asked "Getting anything?". I responded and asked him. Typical fisherman chat. He complimented me. "You're casting better than most of the people I see on this river". I thanked him and thought about that for a moment. I looked at what I was doing and realized that maybe he was right. I was throwing a fifteen foot roll cast with a 6ft 6in rod across two currants to a spot under a tree.
I heard a clatter and looked downstream. The man had picked up one of the river rocks and got a grip on it, drew his arm back, and let it fly. Across the whole tail of the pool that rock skipped, gliding off of the flat calm surface with precision and accuracy. Once, twice. three, four, five, 6, 7, 8 9 10 11 12 13 times. Then is just slid on the surface as though it were ice and clacked onto the bank. My friend, you are the best rock skipper I have ever seen on this or any river.
|(Photos from today)|