My local fly shop The Painted Trout successfully completed their move to a new shop on Dexter-Ann Arbor road. I'm glad for that because they're now next door to the Beer Grotto and thirty steps from both the coffee shop (Joe and Rosie's) and Dairy Queen.
It was a great night to catch-up on the summer's fish tales.
Brian is an excellent spey caster. Ties large classic feather-wing flies, too. Nothing like my dumpy little beasts.
Lauren is an owner with Dirk of The Painted Trout.
Jim is a fine artist and a soft hackle fellow addicted to brookies (like me) and -- gasp -- the mop fly. Anyone have a tan colored mop head?
Above, a Jingler tied after a Borcher's Special. Turkey body donated by one of my jakes. It is a poor feather a little too stiff. Still, it covers the tiny bit of closed cell foam lashed to the spine of the hook.
I had a little trouble detecting strikes when fishing with too much line out this past spring. I hate the indicator but will relent on a dry-dropper set-up.
One last bit: I am considering a declaration that 2018 is the year of the brook trout. Too often we measure success by size. A six-inch brook tout has all he size we need. I'm thinking about it.
The 1990's constituted the Al Franken decade. Maybe 2017 should be the International Year of the Brook Trout.
I might have to approach some of the fishing press I've met.
Monday night fly tying. Fall. Brook trout.
It is good to be with old friends.
Have a brown ale.