Judging from the lack of water to wade in and Clif's apologies, the flow had changed quite a bit in the couple years since he'd been there. Nevertheless, after hiking 1.5 miles in the mud, we came across the best looking water we'd seen yet. Just under a railroad bridge, a beach and the river on the other side of the bank.
Things were looking good as I had a fish on momentarily and lost him and Clif pulled in a sunfish further down the bank.
A few casts after I lost that first fish, some kids (ranging from 10-13 years old) wandered over from the beach, asked if we had caught anything and promptly started throwing rocks into the water and at the train bridge about 10 yards from me.
"P-TANG!" "PING!" "SPLA-DOOOSH!"
As much as I wanted to say something, I remembered how much it sucked being a kid having fun and having some old d-bag yelling at me so I held my tongue. No reason to ruin their day to improve my fishing.
Shortly after that, I broke off my grub and took the opportunity to take a seat, drink some water and witness a casting demonstration put on by Clif. I took some video but the quality turned out horrible. You couldn't really see the terrible things he was doing to that line. He lucked out... this time.
I moved down the bank away from the kids, tossed my white grub between two stumps and pulled up this guy:
After breaking off at least 3 grubs on those stumps (at least I brought my own this time), I got another knock and caught his brother:
Check out Clif's version of events here.