WRITING ON THE FLY
By GEORGE LISET
If you doubt the popularity of New Hampshire in the fall, just try and drive around the Notch, North Conway or around Lake Winnipesaukee on the weekends. My friend Terry tried to go to the Dolly Copp campground to fly fish for a couple of days. The operative word was “Tried”! Terry wanted to spend more time fishing than driving so he had a change of plans and headed over to a small stream that is not well known.
When I moved to New Hampshire I promised myself that I would not take being here for granted, or as I like to joke, for granite. The fall season in New Hampshire is a reminder to me that there is too much beauty to ever get tired of. Every fall is like a different picture on another canvas, much like Van Gogh’s Haystacks, the sun is like a color wheel for the leaves.
Fly fishers can appreciate their surroundings because that is half the reason they fish, the other half is the beauty that can be found swimming in the rivers and streams or floating on a secluded pond. A fall brook trout in all their colors is as equally spectacular as the scenery. I have a few local spots that are secluded enough that I won’t see another angler and where the scenery is such that one would think they were in northern New Hampshire or Maine. The water is cold and the brookies are feisty.
The late writer John Gierach would say that the best fishing was just past the spot where the trail ends. More often than not he has been right. On this day I walked up the river bed fishing pocket water. The river was low which made it easier to traverse, but the kettle stones on the walk was a challenge even with a wading staff. I had my new Orvis Superfine 3 weight rod with a size twenty Blue Wing Olive on a seven x tippet, a fly the brookies can’t resist.
At the first pool my fly landed with a thud and I scared any fish that might have been there to head for cover, so I headed up to the next pool where I got my touch back and landed the fly perfectly at the end of the pool. but then missed the strike. I cast again a little further up the pool and caught a beautiful brook trout in fall colors. Instead of immediately releasing the fish I held it in the water and took some pictures. Then I just watched the fish treading water in my net.
Today it wasn’t about the number of fish, it was about the beauty that can be found under your nose. The old adage “Wake up and smell the roses”, or trout in this case.
I released the fish then sat down against a tree with the sun on my face and the trees in full splendor against the deep blue sky. A sight, a picture or words couldn’t do justice to. Then I called it a day.