One need look no further than the past couple days fishing the Big Hole River. Day 1 dawned cloudy, pretty chilly and as I recall thinking "A welcome change from the recent string of too hot for comfort days." Expecting the chilly start would make for slow fishing I was surprised when Harry hooked up just a few oar strokes below the launch ramp. When Erik hooked and I netted a pretty brown trout a little ways down river I thought, "Surprise, surprise not only are we in for a good day it's ramping up way more quickly than I at first imagined but...
Then it died and I mean really died. From there to the take out many miles and an entire day later the fishing sucked, big time.
Yesterday, again barely out the gate Jim hooks up. The hot bite continues this time to around noon when we stop for lunch just below Maiden Rock but... After lunch pretty much same deal, maybe not so dramatic this time around but still pretty slow.
The why in both cases is of course more than I know. Further reassuring the mysterious activity we call "fishing" is in no danger of being re-named "catching" at least not anytime soon.
Or as Huck Finn might have put it: Interesting but tough.
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