FishRook
The pale light of dawn had just begun to shine off the surface of the river as we slid down the bank towards the water. It was one of those mornings that just felt good. My buddy Nate and I were anxious to get out on the water to start casting our spey rods for steelhead. We got to the head of a long fishy-looking run and had just started putting our rods together when another angler suddenly stepped out of the trees. “Shit,” Nate said. “He’s going to get on the run before us.” I looked over at the other angler. He was busy rigging up a rod and paying us no mind and I saw that he was wearing an old navy-blue sweatshirt and pulling what looked like neoprene waders over the top of a pair of leggings.
“No worries,” I said. “He’s a Nympher. He’ll go fish down at the tailout and won’t get in our way.” Nate looked at me at me quizzically. “How can you tell?” he asked. “I just can,” I said.
There are a lot of different fly anglers out there in the big…
