You’ll find brook trout in countless alder-lined beaver bogs and tumbling canopy-forest brooks along the spine of the Appalachians, throughout the New England backwoods and over to Michigan’s sandy upper peninsula. All of them are delicate and tiny.
“I’ve never had a day when we didn’t catch lots of fish,” said Brad Frankhouser, one of 20 fly-fishing guides at Spring Ridge Club in rural Spruce Creek, Pa. “Some days are tougher than others, but if people do what I suggest, they’re going to have a great day.”
Stand in a trout stream holding a fly rod for as many hours and days as the patience of your partner back home and the indulgence of your boss, employees or stockholders will permit. Sooner or later, you’ll catch a spotted porpoise of a fish so improbably outsized for the shallow confines of the freshwater creek where it swims that you won’t believe it.
Magic happens during quiet late-June evenings on Firehole River in Yellowstone National Park. Ideally, the day has been sunny and warm, with little or no wind. That’s what the bugs like. And the trout like the bugs.