The best three-fish day of fishing ever

Fishing Journal Entry: Sept. 1, 2025, Labor Day

Sometimes you just want to write things down so you don’t forget them, and that’s the case today: I just need to describe what the day was like and how it ended so that my son and I will have a record should one day memory fail either of us. It was the kind of day you want to remember and replay when you’re reflecting on time spent fly fishing.
The events are vivid right now — a cool, sunny morning on one of our favorite rivers, the first time we’ve managed to get the raft on that water in this soggy year in the East. As we geared up, Nick discovered that the tip of his fly rod was busted. Being an hour from home and having no spare, we would have to share my rod for the float trip.
It was about 55 degrees F when we got on the river, headed to a high of 70 by midday.
In the early going, Nick managed to hook a 14-inch brown trout on a fly that a friend had recommended — a black perdigon, size 14 or 16.
A couple hours passed before we hooked up again. In the meantime, we floated along and Nick did a great job maneuvering his raft through some skinny water. His skills at the oars are solid, and doubly impressive because he’s only been able to float maybe five times since he bought a raft.

An osprey took a high perch over one of the deep pools and watched us as we tried to attract a trout. We failed. The osprey was unimpressed and took off.
About halfway through our five-hour float, we switched to fishing a streamer — an olive, cone-nosed woolly bugger — and that led to a sudden hook-up with a rainbow. The fish was about 16 inches, all muscle and fight, and it took a couple of minutes to get him to the net. I did not take a photo of the fish, and too bad because its colors were gorgeous.
An hour later, Nick moved the raft to the top of a familiar run, a deep cut along a shady bank. You have to watch for the limbs of trees when you cast to that area.
Casting from the front seat of the raft, I zipped the woolly bugger into a spot just below a leaning tree and a fish struck aggressively and immediately started shaking its head. The flash in the water indicated another rainbow, this one bigger than the last. At that point, of course, you’re fighting the current and a muscular fish. You have to be careful not to “horse” the trout by pulling too hard on your line and not so soft and loose that he manages to shake you off. What was remarkable about this rainbow was his fight, his feisty energy. He swam past the boat, upstream! I’ve never had a trout do that.

I carefully played him downstream and around the bow to the left of the raft. I kept the line taught, slowly playing him by hand toward the raft. He shook his head several times to let me know he was not pleased. After a fight of close to three minutes, we got him to the net. He was all of 18 inches and thick. I took a quick photo of him in Nick’s right hand, then we released him. I had not worn him out; the trout swam away in an angry and powerful huff, a beautiful sight.

After the trip, Nick declared it our outing “the best three-fish day of fishing ever.”