Page 9 - The Color of Trout Waters

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Painter of Montana
surface my recollection of that pool and that day. I
mixed a blue-gray wash and laid in the surface of the
water and edged it with the rich tonal value of the deep
viridian and cerulean color I saw in the pool...
I stepped around a log snag half buried in the
sand.
The spring runoff had carried a myriad of logs
and fallen limbs along the river piling up. One log on
another. Here and there, at a river bend, or hanging up
on a midstream boulder, logs formed barriers impeding
water flow. Most created deep pools filled with at least
a promise of a rainbow or cutthroat lurking in the
shadows and in the depths. Especially promising spots
are near the currents that are likely to bring a tasty
morsel within reach of a loitering trout.
Now and again, shafts of brilliant sunlight
streamed through the darkening clouds, between the
tall firs and falling on the sparkling surface of the
river.
I slowly made my way upstream casting my
dryfly into each promising riffle or bank overhang.
That day I had several strikes in the morning
and had netted several nice-sized trout. I was
practicing ‘catch and release’ and following each tussle
I felt really good about the morning events. Each of
those fish had put up a decent fight giving me a deep
satisfaction in the pursuit and in every success in
landing each of those trout.
Upstream, around a bend of the river, I could
sense and then could see the spray frothing out of
a large pool behind a jumble of weather and water-
beaten whitewashed logs and downed limbs which