That feeling, when you wake up and the first thing you remember is the night before. Loosing that BIG trout. You stalked it, watched it and sneak upon it for two and a half hours and missed the catch. That feeling!
It all started in biblical signs. I don´t believe in the crap. But being face smashed with a wall of hatching caddis makes you think of stories about grasshoppers. The fish was rising until it looked like a heavy rain fall on the surface. Then it all exploded. Hatching caddis everywhere and the fish stopped rising. Fish was now feeding under the surface. Had a feast without me around the table. I sat in the wardrobe hanging jackets for free. An hour later it all started to happen. Tiny sippings close to shore. The fish started feeding from the thousands and thousands of caddis swimming for the shoreline. Some made it, some did not. I found a huge trout feeding. Every 30 second the nose pushed away water from the surface, and one more caddis fly did not make it. I had two, two pound graylings between me and the trout. Working on it for two and a half hours, it finally choosed my imitation, a Rackelhane. Me tensed after seeing it choose real caddis in favour of my fake artificial shit floating perfect passed the nose. Trout broke surface. My reaction´s like Bruce Lee. Me fucked it up. Trout got spooked and never appeared again. The river died. The bad and good about beeing a fly fisherman. That feeling.
I had the pleasure of hanging with John Terje Refsahl at his camp for a few days. He is a trouts worst nightmare. The Godfather of stalking trouts in Rena river and he holds a black belt in tying dry flies. A dry or die fellow. Pic-google him!