Piscatorial Fortunes Change Overnight

It’s amazing how different fishing can be from one day to the next.

Early yesterday morning my son Doug and I headed east over the Cascades into the Okanogan country, in the northern sector of central Washington.

Our destination was Conconully Reservoir, adjacent to the little town of Conconully, which in turn is about 10 miles northwest of Omak which is…. Best to just look on a map if you really care. It’s 235 miles and almost 5 driving hours from Seattle.

We heard on the car radio about the incredible Spring runoff going on from the rapidly melting snowpack – especially the Wenatchee River near Leavenworth – but we paid little attention because we were only going to pass through the area on the way.

The Wenatchee River was as predicted – a roiling torrent, like as not seen in many years, but that’s another story.

Rain hit the windshield all the way over Stevens pass, but the weather cleared as we neared Conconully. We “fished” from about 3 pm until dark – with little action and no fish. A skunk!

The resort owner had warned us on arrival. “Fishing’s been slow this week,” she said. The town is in near flood stage from the runoff, and the reservoir is totally full with the discolored water gushing over the spillway of the earthen dam.

The fish were scattered and the water was cloudy, but we gave it a try because we had had very good luck there last summer, as Doug’s 3+ pound rainbow had attested.

But it wasn’t to be this time. What to do now? How could we salvage the trip?

No problem, try Fish Lake which is between Leavenworth and Stevens Pass and where Doug, at least, has never not limited out. Besides, it was on the way home, anyway.

We got up at 5 this morning at the Omak Inn, packed up and began the 2-1/2 hour drive back to Fish Lake. We were on the water well before 9:00.

I don’t think my F6 flatfish even got thoroughly wet before my pole tip throbbed from an attack by a hungry rainbow. And so went the day.

They hit and hit and hit, more than making up for yesterday. We probably caught over 30 fish between us, and Doug brought home a really nice brown trout which he and Jamie broiled for dinner.

If there’s a moral to this story, heed weather reports and don’t fish where they’re not biting. The best part for me, though, was getting to spend most of two days with my otherwise busy son, satisfying, temporarily, our mutual piscatorial addiction.