“PROB HOOKED 50.”
The words felt strange as I texted a quick report to my friend Dave. But it was true; I’d spent the better part of the afternoon Euro-nymphing, and the fishing was indeed ridiculous. Within the first hour, I had already hooked more than a dozen; by hour two, I lost count. Wild browns—nice fish up to 18 inches—with the occasional thick, foot-long brookie mixed in. In the evening I switched to twitching attractors in some fast runs and landed another ten or so until I finally quit at dark.
By the time I hit send, the day had basically become a blur of hooksets, thrashing fish, and rapid-fire releases. A few hasty photos of larger trout cradled in my half-submerged hand served as documentation of the day, but little else. Any poetry of a perfect cast, soft take, or arcing leap was lost in the sheer numbers.
Before last season began, I found myself with an unshakable urge to make my fishing days more “epic.” Maybe it was those ads
