In summary: New rod, swung flies (mostly sparse, small purple intruders), the hard stop on the swing only to pull up to pulsing mayhem deep into the wood and cartwheeling antics sounding like a pig fallen into the river. Sassy, spunky, salty chromium beauties. One of those days that happens once in a great while…
11.8′ and 800cfs on the gage.
Shaken Rain 