Ron and I were cruising around the entrance to Shisler’s Cove on Minipi Lake one afternoon when we saw a rise just in front of a pile of rocks near shore. We’d seen a few green drakes on the water and I had tied a big drake on my # 8. So I was set when the fish rose again, this time to the left of his first rise. I laid the fly about four feet in front of him. He took immediately and ran to the left out and away from the boat. Then he changed direction and cut an arc, out about 30 feet now, toward the center of the lake. “Three pounder, I’d say.” Ron agreed. “Maybe more.” Then the fish made a powerful surged and started taking line. Now he was maybe about 75 feet from the boat.
“Damn, he’s fighting hard. What’s wrong …
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