Up and charging by 10:40 on Saturday morning, we, the BFC party (myself, 1 virgin fly-fisherman, and 1 virgin fly-fisherwoman) were discussing the day’s plans over the atlas. True to form, we arrived at the Dead River at 1:15...a bit more taurine and 30 minutes down the line we got in the water. Unfortunately, the flow was high enough to cover anything that might have been good trout habitat. I had other plans for another spot on the dead recommended by Wilkie but in the midst of a tote road fish tail something large, and probably important, came undone in the undercarriage of my vehicle. Up to this point, it was the worst fishing trip I could remember. It was when we limped back through turner and netted this fiesty fall brownie that this trip took second place on the all time worst trip list to an offshore run in rough seas aboard a 23’ walkaround with faltering spark plugs.
Solid hookup on a Black Ghost