The thumping sound of raindrops smacking your hood and back start to pick up tempo. Pea-sized drops drip rapidly from the bill of your hat and onto your hands as you look down to tie on a fresh section of 2x tippet. The normally glassy and reflective surface of Silver Creek turns fuzzy as October rain blurs the boundary between our world and theirs. The bugs are happy. They fish are feeding. You are having one of the most productive days on the water in recent memory. You scan far above and below and see nothing but water, land, and fall foliage. Not another rod around, just the sound of rain and fly line. Somedays you have the creek all to yourself, and it’s all good.