The other problem was even with a parachute tie, it was difficult seeing the fly and keeping it from getting drowned. The first couple takes were rather subtle and produced rings not much bigger than what the raindrops were creating.
By now the rain was getting heavier and though it was still mid-afternoon, it was getting quite dark. As long as there wasn't any lightning and my Filson packer hat kept my glasses clear, I would continue to fish.
But the fish continued rising and I switched out from the Adams to more buoyant patterns like Pass Lakes.
The rain was coming down pretty hard now and it was putting down the insects, so there were no longer any consistent risers to target. I tied on Royal Coachman wet and started working my way back downstream.
The last 100 yards the stream was too shallow and weedy to effectively swing a wet fly, so I reeled up and walked back down to the bridge in the gloaming. I disassembled the rod and wiped it down, switched out my waders for dry shoes and socks, and took one last look upstream at the stretch that I first fly fished 45 years ago to the month...both times exceeded my expectations.
