I was pining to take James to the newly discovered paradise (relatively speaking…for eastern Iowa, anyway) on Earth, so we headed out eight days later. Unfortunately it was once again on the heels of thunder and this time the stream was badly blown out. We went upstream seeking better water and it did clear as we fished, but we only saw (and caught) a single trout. James cleaned up on creek chub, though, and as is becoming alarmingly common, he trounced me on the overall fish count. As is also common, I heard about it for days afterwards. In addition to the water being off, it was extremely hot, well up in the 90s, and we were in danger of melting. James was debuting brand new Orvis waders that he got for his birthday. They were much lighter than his old ones. This was great for him. However I’ve been used to him manfully struggling to keep pace. Now he started disappearing around bends and there were more than a few shouts of “WAIT FOR DADDY!”
I could only last a few hours and as the heat built around 1 pm I called for a retreat. The water was rounding into better and better shape and we could probably have coaxed a few trout, but it was hard work. I don’t have a record, but I caught one trout and only a handful of chub and shiner as I was mostly just watching James. He caught dozens of creek chub, 40 or 50. He was a lot more into it than me, and had to be coaxed off the stream when I couldn’t hack the heat any more.