I've been wandering around tributary streams, juicing every last bit of dry fly fishing I can. The colors I find myself surrounded in are soothing to my angling soul. The fishing's been pretty decent as well. Below is what I found on a momentary journey with a 7 1/2 foot, 3/4 weight, three pc., Sweetgrass rod:


The setting sun highlights every color in the forest.

I found mostly Brookies on a previous trip to this stretch of stream, and expected to find them again. However, there seemed to be fewer. It took some exploration, but in a deep hole, bordered by downed timber, I found this brightly-speckled specimen.




This brilliantly-colored Brookie slashed below my camera lens, threw my hook, then disappeared back to its black, fluid home! Man he was pretty.

A while later, in another deep hole, this one bordered by boulders:

A haloed Brownie that took a Royal Wulff (one of my favorite dry flies)! It is such a tiny stream, so to find large, painted trout like these, taking flies at the business end of my Sweetgrass rod, is how Fall should be. Just a great day.


Makes me smile, son;-)


Yet, all things must come to an end. I eventually had to leave this wondrous stream bordered in painted colors. The mysteries that swim in blackness still swim daily in my meandering mind.

In Wild Waters,

Zac Sexton

The Meandering Booboy