On September 28 four years ago I fished a pool call Moors on the River Cains (in New Brunswick, Canada). It was a wild and beautiful place and it produced a thumping big salmon that day.
That was then and this is now, or was last night.
We drove through the forest.
I tied on a hairy red fly. Then after 5 casts decided it was too hairy and too red. So I put on a small black one. Well, quite small, dressed on a single barbless hook.
I fished. Nothing happened.
Then Tyler who accompanied and drove us out there joined me at the tail. We discussed my need to put a sinking tip on my lines. We talked about fishing right down to the Vee at the post-tail of the pool.
We talked about other stuff.
Tyler turned and then it happened. Jag jag soft tug soft tug why grilse hello.
And it was good.