|How it's supposed to work: fishing at night.|
What you can’t count on is where. You can be sure they’ll hatch, mate, and die first on the North Branch and then, about a week later, on the South. However, this insect activity can be patchy. One of us may be standing in a spot where the bugs and fish are going crazy while another is standing 50 yards away in water that’s as lifeless as a cemetery.
|Just Piddling, Waiting for the Big Bug Event|
My night so far had been spent in a dead zone, and now as I waded my way downstream I realized that I had waited too long. I had stayed in the dead section, expecting it to turn on at any moment, only to find out that it wouldn’t turn on at all. Once again I’d spent several hours listening and hoping, then wondering, then despairing… but never actually fishing. Once I decided to move elsewhere, the show was over. The bugs had probably arrived, the fish had eaten them, and I had missed it because I was in the wrong place at the right time, which isn’t quite good enough.
|Hex mayflies and Purple Iris|
I said “Hello?” I didn’t have to shout because the night was deep, the river was quiet, and the sound of my voice would drift unhindered down the river.