A Quiet Relaxing Weekend

My wife Jeannie and I visited Myron's for a long weekend of fishing and relaxation during October 1-3. We both had been extremely busy with work and in need of a break. Myron had kindly warned us in advance that the North Fork was low and that a recent fishing outing of his own had been less productive than is typical.

Upon arrival late Friday afternoon, we chatted briefly with Myron and Ann on the way in to the Chalet. Again, Myron spoke of the low water and suggested that I "be humble" in my expectations--I assured him that I always am, at least when it comes to fishing.

We got on the water at approximately 1700 hours, focusing our efforts on Hilburn's riffle along Myron's property. Things were slow initially but around 1730, surface activity began to pick up as a substantial hatch of caddis and what looked to be large burrowing mayflies (Hexagenia, but it was getting dark and I could have missed on my identification) was evident. I hooked three fish but landed just one feisty rainbow within a half hour--on a number 10 royal coachman.

Jeannie saw a few fish attempt at her offering but had none on--I should mention that she is a novice at fly fishing but a very determined gal--I keep telling her that she's very close to hooking her first fish.

Saturday was a beautiful cool fall day in southern Missouri. We ditched our original plans to float the river in order that we could drive and hike around during much of Saturday. Usually I fish, fish, fish, but decide to go along with her wish to scout around. I had evening fishing on my mind for Saturday, given what we'd experienced the night prior.

We got on the water again at 1700 hours and things were slow. Another visitor to the river was fishing near by and we talked a bit about the conditions. I mentioned my experience from the night before. Nonetheless, the gentleman left the water around 1800 hours as Jeannie and I fished on. At about 1830, a major mixed hatch was evident. At that point, surface activity became very heavy. Rainbows, previously showing no sign of their presence, were flipping full-body out of the water--the activity was so intense that it resembled a trout hatchery at feeding time. I took a number of fish over the next half hour--and guess who caught her first one amidst that flurry of activity. We finally quit when we couldn't see where our casted flies were landing. A great time was had in that short but action packed feeding bout.

During our trip home on Sunday, we heard on NPR that the National Park Service now plans to devote substantial time and dollars in an effort to not only preserve nature's sights, but also nature's sounds, within the parks. Apparently, the latter in particular is waning with all the human activity associated with visits and park maintenance. It struck me that there are precious few places that I go now, where the sounds of man's myriad activities are not ever present. I realized that Myron's place is one of these rare locations.