The fishing that is. The water has been holding real low on Rufus for a few weeks straight, making the fishing more challenging. The trout continue feeding, but they spread out, and hold so shallow that not stepping on them is the key to catching them. Covering ground is paramount. I walk along the bike path until I spot working fish, then scramble down the bank, giving the skittish wild trout a wide berth. I can't count the fish I've sent fleeing just by rocks clacking together before I could make it down to the water. The gentle current languishes around the boulders here, transforming the first thirty yards more into a wadable spring creek than the mighty Columbia Keeping a low profile is mandatory, no ripples when you wade, don't let them see the leader. Then, if you have a the right fly to match the hatch(wild bows can be incredibly picky), and a drag free presentation, you might not get snubbed. One evening last week I thought I had done everything right, but still managed to get skunked. I put at least twenty rising fish down, only managing to hook one, though it was at least a two footer that came unpinned in the middle of a backflip. When I popped back up to the road I was at least a mile from my rig. I was surprised I had gone so far without consciously realizing it. Yesterday I was planning on hiking into a lake for some browns, but materials that I needed for work on Monday were the opposite direction. By the time I got all of my errands ran it was after three in the afternoon. I stopped into the fly shop to pick up some tying materials and shoot the shit a little. I'm glad I did. I learned that a certain brown trout lake was ice free for the first time just now. I would be the first on the water!! My toon was in my truck ready to go. I hauled ass straight there, well since I had never been there I managed to take a wrong turn, but then I went straight there. As I was gearing up there were fish boiling everywhere on the lake, and visions of tiger trout danced in my head. True to Murphy's law though, the hatch tapered off about the time I was tying my flies on. So I resorted to chucking streamers to shoreline structure. I had several follows, a couple brief hookups, and brought a couple nice browns to hand before being blown off the water at six p.m. I still haven't gotten a tiger, but that status could change today or tomorrow, as many lowland lakes and ponds are shedding their ice.