An Hour from DC

It wasn’t supposed to stay dry (we were expected thunderstorms with hail) but it did. It wasn’t supposed to be a lovely little stream, but it was. It wasn’t supposed to have any holdover trout, but, yes…it did. It wasn’t supposed to be a “great” day of fishing, but it was.

After nearly two weeks without fishing, I requested my brothers presence and we hit a small stream an hour from DC for a half-day of fishing. Now, mind you, its the middle of August, nearly 95 degrees, not the best time to go fly fishing for trout. We’d resigned ourselves to a day of warmwater happiness. The previous night had some weather and so the stream was cloudy. No problem, we’d throw big flashy streamers. And though the stream’s stocked trout was supposed to be all but gone, we’d got word an authority that there might be a holdover or two…wayyyy back. Still, we expected and found, lots of warmwater fish. Among the high banks, past the stickerbushes and below the canopy, between the two of us, we each caught well over a dozen redbreasted sunfish, bluegill, crappie, bass, perch and fall fish. The fall fish were the most fun, sizable enough to put a bend in a 5wt and aggressive defenders of their pools. But the big surprise came from the brown trout we took in the middle of a stained pool on the bottom, clearly wild and stream born.


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