There was bound to actually be some good hatches at dusk and I wanted to be in a good spot when it popped, and I had a couple of good riffles in mind.\u00a0 As the sun dipped below the trees the mayflies started hatching pretty steady, I managed to wrangle a half dozen\u2026and then stopped.\u00a0 \u00a0What the heck?\u00a0 Usually the hatch and the associated feeding frenzy lasts until dark.\u00a0 Oh, well, I tied on a bugger and started fishing my way back downstream, but this stream had shut off.\u00a0 It was now getting pretty dark, and I was trying to decide to fish until after dark, or head for the bridge.\u00a0 I\u2019m getting old, and traipsing around in the dark on a stream doesn\u2019t have the appeal it once had, so I picked up the pace and headed for the bridge.\u00a0 But then I come upon a riffle that was alive with rising trout.\u00a0 I swung the bugger I had tied on through the melee ten times with no grab, so a change was in order. One of the things that sucks about getting old is that I just can\u2019t see anymore.\u00a0 Fortunately, I can just about tie a fly on blindfolded, but getting the tippet poked through the eye has become a real challenge I managed to tie on a bushy dry fly by the light of my headlamp, and managed a couple more fish before hitting the trail.\u00a0 By the time I was at the bridge it was totally dark, I was alone in a dark valley lit by fireflies and a pale glow on the western horizon.\u00a0 As I was taking off my waders I thought of times when I was younger how once it got to be this time of night I would often change to a heavier rod with a big fly on and keep fishing until well after midnight.\u00a0 No more of that for me, at least not this night.\u00a0 I had to work in the morning!<\/span><\/p>\n