I watched “Mysis Mike” Kingsbury throw a cast upstream to a pod of feeding browns. Mysis Mike’s dry fly disappeared in a swirl, and he waited a full count before firmly lifting his rod, driving the hook point home. His rod buckled and bounced, and I waltzed upstream to see the fish. Blue-winged olives hatched in earnest all around me.
“What fly are you using?” I asked Mike, once he pulled the hook free. He knelt and cradled the big brown — a nice 21-inch trout — in the water, admiring the fish’s pale yellows and bright blues.
“A hook,” Mike replied.