Long ago, the Troutbitten crew had a private forum where we exchanged ideas and stories every day. At the heart of those stories were the fishing reports. We fished hard, and we fished often. Those reports contained the details. Most times, it was nothing but the conditions, the tactics, the flies and an account of our success or failure. But what did we learn? That was always the question. Fishing Reports is now a series at Troutbitten . . .

The Moment

(April 24th, 2026)

As I pass the recent, river-wet brush pile firmly stuck upon the permanency of a large chunk of limestone, I’m reminded of all the other piles I’ve seen collect on that rock over time. Limbs and logs build up there ten feet tall, and the river arranges them with somehow measured chaos. Then one day, the next great flood comes along to lift away the brush pile that’s grown so large that it can no longer support its own mass against the rising tide. The parts are scattered. The foundation remains. And the rebuild begins.

I pause while climbing around the edge of the massive hemlock parts, staring at the mess of timber, knowing its history, knowing its fate. And, unexpectedly, I see parallels with the life of someone whom I love. I churn through heavy thoughts for long moments. And then I fish . . .

The Fishing

(For more info about tactics and decisions, follow the highlighted text links in the paragraphs below.)

A pair of airborne Hendricksons remind me that it’s bug season, and I smile. Grannoms are gone and Sulfurs are here. So, along with a few extra boot tracks on the riverbank, opportunities for daily dry fly fishing begin in earnest. Every year it happens. From now until mid October, prospecting with a dry fly is a reasonable approach. So while covering water and looking for risers, that’s exactly what I do.

I’m fishing a Parachute Sulfur. A big fourteen. It’s a Yellow Adams, really, and it’s built to fish any water I can throw it into. That’s my pick for a prospecting fly — buoyancy is first and precision matching is not a concern.

Twenty minutes in, and I’ve covered at least a hundred yards of a medium sized river with good flows and some fair gradient. Working upstream against the current feels good. I’d never go so far as to call fishing an athletic pursuit, but to cover a river thoroughly, you have to be in decent shape. And if you’re not yet, you will be after a month of daily wading.

Constant motion. It’s the same pace as streamer fishing for me, and it’s what I do all summer long, too — prospecting with a dry as a first choice.

I pick up two small trout in the next hour. Just one small rise form appears in that time and maybe a dozen bugs — mostly tan caddis and a few Sulfurs.

Instead of sticking with the dries, I come off the Harvey leader and swap out to a Standard Mono Rig, with tight line drop shot, but not heavy. Using a pair of unweighted nymphs (Walt’s up top and Standard Issue on the bottom) I slow my pace, pick a lane and establish baseline drifts. A small trout falls for it in the third lane. My pace is just a tenth of what it was with the dry flies, and it takes some measured effort to narrow my targets and assume the technical approach that good nymphing requires.

I back off the weight even more. A #4 split shot for the drop. Just twenty centigrams now, in some knee-deep moving water. That’s a very light approach for drop shot, but it’s what I’ve been experimenting with most in the last few months. For all my years, I’ve used drop shot when I really wanted to touch the riverbed with a bottom bouncing approach. I’ve always liked to feel it too, and that requires about fifty centigrams to get tactile feedback through the leader and the rod blank. But I’ve given that up for a while, instead I’m just thinking of drop shot as any other weight. And I’ve lifted some of my self-imposed restrictions while fishing drop shot.

Nothing happens for the next half hour, but I love my drifts as I alter the weights and leave the nymphs attached. Twenty centigrams off, thirty back on. Stack another thirty in the deep stuff with fast current, and pull it back off for the head of the run. Instead of touching often, I’m now looking to glide through the strike zone, with a few more ticks than I’d usually aim for with weighted flies.

Drop shot teaches you to not to fear the bottom. In that half hour, I hang maybe twice. And both snags come out easily with the one-hundred-and-eighty pull. It’s a clean, fluid way to fish nymphs.

Above the bridge, I can’t stay within the Golden Ratio of my rod tip in the heaviest stuff, because the currents are ripping through where I need to stand. Instead, I add a yarn indicator to the tippet below my sighter and leave the drop shot. This is another thing I rarely did before, but it’s become a big part of this new approach to a drop shot rig.

Fish on. It’s a big one. And as it surges for the fallen log, I use its momentum to sweep it away from the underwater limbs, with my rod tip pulled hard downstream. And I wade swiftly down and across to switch positions with the fish. Then, with the pressure back in my favor, I make quick work of the best wild brown trout I’ve seen in this section since the Cicadas were here.

Two casts later, in the same lane, another trout. And then another. All good, high-teens fish. I have no doubt that if the run was longer, the opportunity would repeat, but I simply run out of water. And instead of doubling back or moving on to find the next heavy run, I wade gently into the tailout and scan for rising trout to meet the Sulfurs I’ve noticed popping off for the last fifteen minutes.

There are two subtle rises by the front tip of an island. So I wade as patiently as my impatience can handle, and I consider my options. Most times, I would change back to the Harvey leader. Sometimes, I might pull off the drop shot and set up a tight line dry dropper, with the dry a few feet below the sighter and a single beadhead something-or-other.

Instead, the rogue thinking of my new-to-me lighter drop shot approach makes a suggestion. I’m sure my eyebrows lower and my eyes squint at the thought, and I stare at the pothole where the two trout have now risen a few more times while thinking about this.

Tight line dry dropper drop shot? Sure.

I remove the yarn, exchange the tag Walt’s for the Parachute Sulfur from earlier, and I leave the Standard Issue with a #4 split shot below it.

Fish on, again. This one ate the nymph, and I probably spooked the second trout, because he refused similar drifts. But as I wade up through that flat, I pick up three trout on the calm surface and another five underneath.

At the top of the flat, my time is up, and I chuckle at the absurdity of two things while breaking down my rod: First, tight line dry-dropper drop-shot as a thing. And second, why had I never considered it before?

Stats and Thoughts

Time: 190 mins
Caught: 14
Lost/Missed: 3
Flies Eaten: #14 Parachute Sulfur. #14 Standard Issue
Leaders: Harvey Dry Leader, Standard Mono Rig
Terminal Tippets: 4X for the nymphs. 5X for the dries
Weather: Clouds and Sun. 55 degrees with a breeze. Pressure 29.8 and rising.
Water: Great flows. Perfect color.

Fish hard, friends.

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Enjoy the day.
Domenick Swentosky
T R O U T B I T T E N
domenick@troutbitten.com