Some nights spent pursuing the herring run are very slow, even if those herring are in fact present. There are swirls and splashed of alewives in the ink black water, but no boils or explosions from big stripers eating them. Repetitive casts with a big herring fly don't draw any grabs. The hours wear on and the feeling that any cast could be the one dissolves away. Such nights are actually the norm. Either there are no fish or just some small fish, and neither is really what I'm looking for. Other nights, it starts to feel that way until I make one small adjustment. That certainly isn't the norm, usually there is some sign that doing something different will draw different results, but sometimes there's just a feeling, nothing more.
One night early in the herring run, I was getting bored. There were fish in, but they were silent. The sense that something was possible was just stuck in my mind despite every bit of external sign. I couldn't shake it. Eventually, I made a pretty simple move. I didn't change my fly, my leader, or anything like that. I just moved, and not very far. The first cast produced a jarring take. I rammed the hook home and the fish tore off. It clearly wasn't huge, but nice anyway and made a good account of itself. I landed it, removed my slammer from its mouth, and then watched it swim off. It was 30 inches on the dot.
The next cast was stopped by yet another bass. This one fought dramatically less well, and yet it was basically a clone of the first. The same size, the same build, everything... just way less juice.
And then it was over. I made a few more position adjustments but that was all the river had to offer. Frankly that wasn't bad at all. I'll take a 30 inch class striped bass any time. In this extremely deprived fishery, they've become a pretty reasonable bar for success for land-based fly anglers. This spring would produce quite a few more of them for me.
Until next time,
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