Prettier In Water: Flylords

By mid-summer Shenandoah National Park was closed to all angling, and to some it was already overdue. Blue Ridge Mountain streams that would typically flow and pool deep enough make you think twice before crossing had shrunk to puddles in a stairwell of dirt and pebbles. Crossing them in dry Chacos around late July I couldn’t help but wonder where the native brook trout could possibly shelter. I dreamt up deep pools that I knew didn’t exist along well traveled streams. I dreamt of a safe gullies where they’d slumber all day until the sun went down and then hit the dark top water with the jubilee of a cool mayfly hatch. 

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