This past Friday I just wanted to go to work. But clients being what they are, generally speaking, dumb as a box of rocks, that didn’t happen. That’s okay, the deadline doesn’t pertain to you, we’ll just put everything on hold. Just- for- you.
It was a strange day from a weather standpoint. Looking at the radar gave me a strange sense of vertigo. Around here, storms are supposed to arrive from the west. A little north or south thrown in, but from the west.
This one was coming in directly from the east. I stared at the radar. It took me a moment to get used to it.
And it rained, pretty much all morning. The second plan since I didn’t want to fish in the rain was to hang around and get some writing done, but the sun came out near 2 PM.
So I went fishing.
The sun didn’t last long, but it wasn’t raining. Very gray, lots of clouds moving in from the east, but it was dry.
Decided to hit a stretch of the Fox that I haven’t fished in around 3 years. It’s just another stretch, a continuation of the stretch where the fish have been hitting pretty consistently. I wanted to see if the whole 7 fishable, wadeable miles were doing the same thing.
And I just wanted to fish. I wanted to put all those other things that clutter my brain on hold. Think about fishing. There’s a likely fish holding spot. Cast to it. Cast to it again. The fish were cooperating, they were in the likely fish holding spots.
I didn’t get 200 yards from my car, I could still see it up river sitting in the parking lot and I was already at 20 fish caught and missed.
And I wasn’t even close to the best spot yet.
I was able to get some things out of my head, like why anyone thinks the current Republican and Tea Party presidential candidates are even remotely interesting. Like why I think the over inflated real estate market is what killed the economy over the last 15 years and how real estate has to crash to 1965 levels or we’re effectively screwed.
But I was fishing. Someone apparently didn’t want me there, but I was in the river, so screw them.
The fish were biting and when that happens, I leave for no one and nothing.
Of course with every cast I had to clean off my hook. Weeds, weeds of the like I’ve never seen on the river before.
This got me to thinking about nitrogen and phosphorous levels in the water, are they treatment plant related or fertilizer and weed killer related?
I cast to another likely fish holding spot and a fish flushed the thoughts from my head.
This shore for some reason was full of wild grapes. I had noticed that this was a banner year for them and had planned on collecting a few gallons. They make a wonderful sauce for wild game, even if it’s just squirrels.
But I was here to fish.
By the time I got close to the best spot I had landed 30 smallies and missed quite a few more. It was then I decided I wasn’t going to leave the river till I hit the 50 fish landed mark. I thought that would be easy, I was at the spot.
One little fish is all I got for all the casting.
This spot in the past has produced upwards of 20 fish of 5 species, with very little effort on my part. You just cast and fish hit. Not today.
With the gray skies I thought I wouldn’t find anything all that interesting to photograph. I like the sun streaked contrast from a sunny day. Deep shadows, bright highlights, none of which were occurring today. And yet, I couldn’t help myself.
For being in the middle of an urban area, a simple walk up onto shore gets you lost in another world. Old barns, old silos, old battered pickup truck all surrounded by an old battered fence, overgrown with trees and grass of course.
One other person must have been out in the past 24 hours, even stopping where I stopped. It would be the only sign of another person in the river I would see all afternoon.
Sometimes what I go through to get to a fish astonishes even me. I know I won’t be able to cast effectively. I know that near tree root balls are deeper holes. But I go anyway. This one was a bitch, but it gave up a couple of fish.
I picked apart the remaining stretch. Every little rock, every little current break, the bubble line, anything over ankle deep. The fish were everywhere.
As I got toward the end of the fishing hike, I was apprehensive. It had been awhile, but I remember this. It doesn’t like me. You have to stop here, get on shore and walk around a 100 foot stretch. It’s the remnants of an old dam that was removed decades ago, but it’s done some odd things to the river bottom.
And it doesn’t like me.
I tried to get along one year, but it didn’t go well. A fast chute of water, a submerged tree, real funny. Let go of my leg.
Luckily, before I had to deal with these past unpleasant memories, the 50th fish came to hand. I was done. If I had been able to land one of the other 25 that I missed I would have been done sooner. In a way I was glad that didn’t happen. I had no place else I wanted to be other than out fishing.
Walking through this old broken dam and back to shore was going to be hard enough. I was pleased to not have to keep going down stream.
As I stepped up on shore, the drizzle started. It was enough to make you damp, not soaked. More like a fine mist. By the time I got back to the car, it was almost dark. Perfect timing. A massive bug hatch was coming off the river and I stood and watched for awhile.
A great horned owl floated up the river, chased by 3 smaller birds.
A couple of blue herons squawked at my presence. I repeated what they said, must have been good, they shut up.
I had done a pretty good job of quieting my brain, except for that weed issue. Why was it here, why this year and never before, was it the phosphorous or the nitrogen?
The owl came back down stream, no followers this time.
That got me thinking about owls…………..
I wish I had an off switch for my brain.
