It's like an old friend...

Do not protect yourself by a fence, but rather by your friends.
                                                                      -Czech proverb

The decision is never where to start, that's easy. It's when. Thirteen-thousand plus cfs. Tailwater level 709 feet above mean sea level. Just wait it out. Temps will rise, our need for electricity will decrease as the day wains on, and then-"Table Rock power plant reports the number of units generating to be---ZERO." Might be nine am, may be one pm. Then the real waiting comes in. 

703.3'

Time. Time to check knots, again. Time for another glance through the midge box, maybe the black zebra instead? Nope. Second guesses are for suckers. Time to watch the water drain out like the last of the pancake syrup, slowly, deliberately. Time. Look at the rocks. 704? Still falling, but why does it take so long?!

Tailwater elevation 703.3'-Wade in. The water is at that awkward, exclusive-to-tail-waters level where its falling but not moving. I'm sure there is a scientific term for this, but I call it frustrating. 

Tailwater elevation 702.1'- More current now. Fish are settling into their haunts. Low water haunts. The water is moving more, creating greasy currents around the rocks. Low enough now to see midges on the surface. I notice the shucks first. Not sure why, but I always do. 

The Miracle Midge-Always in my box

Tailwater elevation 701.7- Current now, finally. Over the light gravel, the water looks like air. Wade slowly, fish everywhere. Rising fish. Normally, that's a good thing. But the fish here feed on midges the size of pepper flakes, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Still, with the right conditions and a little luck, you can get a fish or two on emergers, fished in the film. 

Tailwater elevation 700.8- Perfect. Good flow, good light, right fly. Time to get to work. Short, purposeful casts. Up and across. Reach mend. Drift. Throw a big mend at the end of the drift, and get another 15 feet. Time. The number of fish caught is proportional to the time your fly spends in the water. If they are feeding, fly selection is a personal choice. If they are fussy, it may get more specific than that. 

Like any old friend, I accept this water for what it is. A great place to fish. Nothing fancy, no pretensions. Time. It's taught me that there's nothing like coming home to an old friend...

The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it.
-R.W. Emerson

Crane Creek-back to the beginnings.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost

Not that the fishing isn't great, but the walk in is always the best part. 20 minutes of birds, squirrels, and anticipation. Cross the creek twice, have a cup of coffee while the fish settle down, collect your composure, then very quietly sneak to the edge...

Mental check list engaged; 
no sudden movements-check
back cast area clear(ish)-check
(did I close the garage door?)
focus on the target-check
line clear-check
enough out to load with out a false cast-check
(how big is that trout?)
focus on the target-check

It happens fast, but in a high-speed-camera-motion-stop kind of fast-let the line drift down stream, load the rod, push forward, change directions mid-cast, stop the rod tip short, pile on the slack, mend, then wait...rinse, and repeat. Unless..

That's the desired result. This is a small creek. So, you adjust your expectations accordingly. Your pace should be slow, you know it. But there's that pool by the bluff..It'll be there. Three, four, five more casts, one more diamond from the mine, move to the next pool. Slowly. Your mind can out fish your body here. But that's a mistake. Forgot to check your back-cast. 

Focus on the target-check...

Most men pursue pleasure with such breathless haste that they hurry past it.
-Kierkegaard