This made me think of some of my slipped away haunts in the trails. I've become all to accustomed to the comforts of the boat (mostly my small bladder has become accustomed, yep that aint apple juice in that jug), but fall tends more than often to be that time when they start to paint their way into the odd place or two in my daily routines. "The Fragrance of this candle is lovely." "Stop Leeching onto me." "Don't Swamp that boat Johnson!" Subtle but not so subtle and I wonder often how they are still fishing. Heck for that matter Squalicum is where a dear friend of mine landed her first brown during an October outing.
Nice leech imitation. A lake I sometimes fish has a lot of olive leeches, a tad less amberish, but I just know that fly would be a real tallywhacker there.
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