Spotting insect life as you make your way to one of your favorite fishing spots is always a nice way to start a day of fishing. Such was the case for me the other day when i came upon a beautiful Hexagenia specimen while shuffling my way down to one of my favorite spots on the Gudadalupe. I’d seen these mayflies before, but never at such close proximity. Kneeling down in the cool water to get a close up view i was astounded by the amazing beauty of this tiny creature that simultaneously looked rugged yet delicate, as though it were a fierce dragon constructed entirely of balsa wood and tissue paper. However, it was the color that startled me most. It was a color that nature usually reserves for fall leaves, or flowers that brazenly call the bees to spread their nectar, it was gold.

In many cultures gold / yellow is a revered color and a symbol of good luck, especially in the Chinese culture where there is even a saying,

“Yellow generates Yin and Yang”.

Knowing this, i smiled like a child as i headed down to the special spot directly in front of the decaying stump, cast along the edge of the current outlined by bubbles and debris, and let my rig drift slowly along.

Tic………..tic……………..whump!

First cast. Unreal.

The luck came so quickly (above photo) that i was giddy with excitement as i released the fish, cast in to the same spot and waited, ever so briefly.

Tic…………tic…………….whump!

As soon as the indicator submerged, i set the hook, felt the 3WT flex it’s backbone and watched the line cut a wake out across the water. Quickly the fish changed direction and suddenly the line was coming directly at me, as i stripped quickly i saw a flash of oddly familiar color whiz close by me. The coloration caused me to wonder whether or not it was a carp, but the way it fought indicated it was something much different. A few nervous moments later i netted my first ever palomino trout (below), a fish that was incredibly full of vitality and bore the same hue of the Hex, yellow gold.

The good fortune brought by this color continued as the day wore on. It was one of those days that you dream about (or at least i do). Double digit fish were netted, so many that i actually stopped taking the camera out to record them all, partly because i didn’t want to wear out the battery, but mostly because i didn’t want to waste a single moment before hooking into the next adventure that might possibly be bigger than the last.

Of course there were all the fish that were far to wily and experienced (this is after all a very popular spot) to be a part of a solitary anglers string of luck. There were the two or three huge fish (huge trout or white bass?) that had blistering runs taking me into my backing before quickly snapping me off on distant submerged branches, as well as a few psychotic trout that must have learned their acrobatics from tarpon, because as they leaped i found myself recalling lines heard in big game videos “Bow to a jumping fish!”

The fishing was so good that i kept casting as the sun descended far below the hill and an intense chill set into my bones. I knew i should go, but the fish were still coming, so caution was put on hold as the line went tight again.

The day had been enough to inflate ones ego and cause them to think they knew more than they actually did. Good thing for us people that are prone to visions of grandeur that the universe has a way of keeping us in check. Feeling my way along the rapids in the dark, already cold, i slipped and was fully submerged in the water that had brought so much joy that day. Walking quickly, chattering and shivering like a madman all the way back to the car, my ego was deflated just enough to put back where i belonged, which was knowing that i am an average fisher that was lucky enough to have a brief glimpse behind the veil, where i could almost make out the sublime, basking in rays of gold.