There’s a magical time of day when most people are comfortable sitting at the dinner table, watching the evening news. Some call this special time the golden hour, as the sun sets and casts a magical light. During the golden hour, trout lose their fear of predators from above and feast on the abundance of the evening hatch.
As darkness envelops the world, the golden hour comes to an end. I stumble back to my car, recalling what I would have missed if I hadn’t made the trek to the river. I used to fish in a trout pond up north. The golden hour brought the water to life. Hex nymphs would swim to the surface, transforming into duns. They resembled small sailboats on the calm, still surface, their wings set, hoping to fly, reproduce, and die. Most were intercepted in the splashy rises of resident rainbows and brookies. It was just a meal, but the circle of life was fulfilled.
Here’s to those magical summer golden hours and the pleasure they bring. Go to the river, pond, or beach and enjoy them. The news will still be there, just as bad as yesterday. But the fish will be happy to have you there.
Tight lines,