"I know you like to fish little narrow rivulets and paddle through narrow tunnels to get to secret ponds to catch the wild yellow perch and those pretty brookies and the occasional 15" rainbow."
Well stated, Matt. Not sure if I could say that better myself! it is a different set of challenges. BTW, the browns in the Rifle easily exceed 15" (my biggest so far is 18") and so do the rainbows in Reid Lake. Ahh, but that's just nitpicking. You get the idea of my fishing style. I will, however, be hitting those Cooke Pond brute smallies more, so I can't promise that my Trounut pics will all be of smaller fish...
"But there are far fewer wading anglers and often the closest guy to me is so far away I can't tell if it is a man or a woman and I'd need binoculars to be able see any actual details."
Well yeah, I could handle that! I don't get upset if I see another fisherman or two, so long as they are wading quietly and carefully and so not spooking fish that I want to try.
"Yes during the course of an eight hour day maybe 50 - 60 drift boats and as many single pontoon boats might float past me."
Again, so long as they don't run over the fish I'm tossing flies to at the moment, no problem.
It's the pictures of guys fishing nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, and the boaters who have the courtesy of a rock (a slimy one at that), that keeps me away from the more popular waters. Hey, during steelhead season this IS a problem on my local streams, as in people heaving heavily weighted chunks of spawn into every nice hole and run with a loud PLUNK - and then wonder why they don't catch anything. Once while steelhead fishing myself on the Rifle many years ago (yes, I have done it, still waiting for success), I found a nice-looking hole. While I was quietly tossing flies into it, no fewer than eight guys came tromping out of the woods on the opposite bank, right over the hole I was fishing. "Well, this is a waste of my time!" Not to mention the time that two idiots in a johnboat rowed up and down my favorite stretch of the Rifle with the goddamned squeakiest oars I have ever heard, this on a section of stream no more than 20 feet wide. "We were lookin' for steelhead. We didn't see any!" Gosh, wonder WHY?
And I still, once in a while, have a recurrent nightmare about my natal fly-fishing spot, the Maple River in Emmet/Cheboygan counties, MI. The dream goes like this: I am out with my fly-fishing mentor and plant ecology instructor, just like in memory, on the river. As I come around a bend, to my horror I see that the bank has been completely cemented in, including a handrail, and there are dozens of people with spinning/spincasting gear heaving everything known to man at the trout. It is always a huge relief when I awaken to say, "Oh thank God that wasn't REAL!"
Perhaps I am overstating the levels of crowdedness that you and others on here experience on famous waters. But, you know, there is just something special about solitude in a beautiful natural setting, not having to worry about anyone else spooking the fish or making obnoxious noises that blot out the wondrous natural sounds out there. I might not get to share the experience but hey, isn't that what waterproof digital cameras are for? Or, sharing it with a few special friends, like my buddies Joe and Todd that come visit once in a while, others who really appreciate the peace and quiet and beauty of nature, without having to bring a boombox or turn up their truck stereo so they can fish to their favorite music (which almost inevitably is NOT mine)...
Besides, those brookies ARE really pretty and every once in a while I get one of bragging size, and those perch sure are tasty. So are the rainbows...
"By keeping my back to the main flow it doesn't matter how many guide boats float by because I really don't get to see very many of them. I'm focused and concentrating on what is going on in front of me in my little world." I think that is the point of fishing, getting lost in the moment, tuning out the rest of the world including one's own problems and focusing, Zen-like, on the task at hand. Dang it, there's a fish rising, forget everything else!
Jonathon
No matter how big the one you just caught is, there's always a bigger one out there somewhere...