“There we go!”, and Jeff was hooked up. We’d barely got the boat into position for the first spot of the day and his fly rod was already buckled over into a big fish! I couldn’t believe it, a week later, and on the opposite tide, the same big fish my dad & I had stumbled upon were still here!

I remember feeling a sense of “déjà vu” as I followed Jeff with the camera from one side of the boat to the other, peering through the dirty water, anxious to make a visual.

Then, finally, up to the surface she came, big, broad-shouldered, and GOLDEN!

Fashionably pierced, right through the dorsal!

And what a sportsman, selflessly sacrificing his own trophy-shot to avoid adding any more stress on such a respectful, golden beauty.

The rest of the day was a slow one, interspersed with a couple of welcome little stripers (2 to be exact).

And before long, the sun was touching down and we switched over to top-water. It was one of those perfect, windless, sweatshirt evenings on the delta. We didn’t get any grabs, or even a boil, but there were enough “Goldens” crashing around on the surface to keep our attention and a nice reminder that spring is just around the corner.