Saturday, July 6, 2019
We had one day to fish the Farmington River. After cruising the road along the river, we found a spot where there weren’t other fishermen. There is an island with a couple of small runs and the main branch. I fished the first small run for 30 minutes, changing flies a couple of times, but no luck. It’s a beautiful run though. Crossing an island, I fished the second small run that looked like a good-sized trout stream with a great run and pool. No luck.
I walked around the end of the island and saw Kelly sitting on a rock changing flies. A fast rapid separated us, so I couldn’t hear what he was saying. He pointed behind him and yelled, “Ducks”. What? I fished the fast water for a few minutes, then walked up the side and crossed at the top of the rapid to see what he was talking about. He was now back up and casting to a shady side of the river. A hen mallard was busily feeding on moss covering rocks under water. Five of her young ones were huddled on a rock right behind where Kelly was sitting. I took pictures as I slowly approached. The mother didn’t care, and the young ones didn’t seem to either. I walked right up to the rock. They were so cute all huddled up together on a warm, sun-drenched rock in the middle of the river.
The water was cool, maybe 55 degrees. We chose to fish without waders. It’s July, and it was going to be hot today. Maybe these little ducks didn’t have all their down yet.
We had this nice section to ourselves. Nice houses lined the other side of the river. There was shade from trees along the bank. The current ran down that side, and it was about waist-high. I know because I had to go retrieve a fly stuck on a branch.
Changing flies a number of times, we fished our way up to another rapid. It was pretty, with beautiful water. On a hot summer day, it’s a nice way to spend the morning. You would think some stupid, little trout would take a fly, but there was never an approach to a fly. We did see a couple rise and then disappear.
By mid-day we were tired and hungry, so we went back to camp. We walked across the campground road to see if we could get to the river. Two guys were getting settled at a cabin, one of which had waders on. We asked how they did, and it was similar to our morning. They are from Connecticut and knew the river well, saying the time to fish is from 6:00 to 8:30, and there is always a hatch. “What do you use?” we asked. “Whatever is hatching.” he said. “Caddis, BWO’s, sulphurs, ISO’s”.
We went over to explore the river. There is a huge pool, appropriately called The Campground Pool. A path as big as a road goes up and down the river. With renewed enthusiasm, we returned to camp and resorted flies, put boxes in our vests and adjusted our leaders. The weather report called for a thunderstorm at 4:00, but clear at 6:00, which would be perfect. It was hot and muggy without a breath of air moving, a perfect recipe for a storm. Sitting under the awning, I leaned my head back against the trailer and took a nap.
A black cloud approached with thunder in the distance. We scrambled around, putting fishing gear in the truck and the rest under the awning. Then with lightening and thunder, it started pouring rain. The wind and cooling temperatures were welcome. This could be the perfect conditions for good fishing later, but it didn’t happen. The rain continued until dark.
After a dinner of pork chops, potatoes and a salad, we cleaned up and I went to bed. I was asleep in three minutes. Kelly went over to talk with the fishermen across the street.
