Shallow Water

I had a friend Bruce Jacobs visiting from Maryland over the weekend. Bruce has come a long way (as a fly fisherman) since visiting a year ago. He can cast well now. But he still doesn't read the local water right yet. I like to move quickly, so I marched out ahead of Bruce yesterday. I was fishing a small foam hopper with a #16 bead head dropper.
I passed up a lot of good water so Bruce would have some prime untouched spots to fish as he came up behind me. But every time I looked back he was either fishing in the wrong place or wading right through what I left behind for him. It got me thinking about holding water. I started a half consious piscator/viator dialog in my head. I imagined trying to explain to Bruce what to look for and where to fish as I gradually worked my way upstream.
Every time I made an upstream step or two I took a moment to look the water over. Then I started off by casting to the shallow water next to the bank. Good fish are the least likely to hold there, but you do find them there sometimes, and when they are in shallow water it's because they're feeding. That means they're hungry and ready to strike at anything interesting, but it's important to remember they'll be extra spooky there too. That's why I always cast there first and why I do it with so much care.
I noticed an 8-10" deep current circling back out to the main channel after detouring around a bankside boulder. The internal dialog was already chattering in my mind as I made my cast--I was trying to imagine how to explain to Bruce why I was casting so carefully to such an unlikely spot. And then bang, snap, gone. My rod was still flat to the water, pointing straight at the shallow channel. The fish had taken my nymph the instant it hit the water. I did see the fish. It as well over 20" long. I caught a fat 22" male brown on the Missouri a few weeks back. And this fish was at least that big, probably bigger. And it was lying there in water no deeper than he was.
It pays to pay attention. And it pays to fish shallow water. They're usually not there. But when they are, they're almost always ready to bite.