I know that I said I was not going to fish the West Carson anymore, but I had no idea when I opened my mouth that I was going to jinx the works. We had several small storms in quick succession and now my favorite river, the East Carson, is a muddy, off-color mess. I hope it comes down before I leave on my work trip.
I arrived on the river at about 7:30am which is “just a hair” late in the morning for the current water and air temps. As always, the gauging station hole was in the shadows. I crept down to my usual rock and was observing bug activity and enjoying some peace and tranquility when a large cinnamon bear sow popped out of the trees not more than 30 feet from me. I do not think that she saw me in the water as I was kneeling behind some rocks and being still, but when I yelped in surprise, she jumped as well and took off running. Just watching her run reinforced the fact that there IS NO WAY to outrun a bear…man was she moving fast.
That excitement over, I go back to my observing. I see very little bug activity, so I decide to tie on a #16 yellow humpy with a soft-hackled hare’s ear dropper. I got some half-hearted strikes right off the bat, but nothing serious. I quickly move up to the next hole and start casting. Same responses. Refusals. I snip off that rig and I tie on a #16 Royal Trude. Again, more refusal strikes. This hole is now spooked from all the rejected casts.