I have neglected the Farmington this month most cruelly. I understand the fishing has been excellent in spite of the low water, but I have been pulled in some other directions.

But not yesterday. Yesterday was one of those summer flow spikes I look for, the kind that puts some color in the water and chases most of the anglers away. The plan on those days is to throw streamers and look for a big ol’ brown that’s been hiding under a logjam for the past few weeks and is now in the hunt for a protein payoff. Yesterday I fished a full-sink tip line with an assortment of weighted and non-weighted streamers — trying to present at several levels in the water column — in both muted and bright colors. I walked about 500 yards of water, pounding the banks, waiting for that roll at the surface or that dull thud below.

It never came. The plan was go big or go home, and since I didn’t do the former — not a touch in two hours — I did the latter. But oh, man, it felt wondrous to be back.