Hello all and thanks for reading.
The Ebook of “The Enemy” is available on Amazon with the Paperback coming next week.
Get the last chapters and find out what trouble John and Culsit get into.
Thanks for Reading,
Hello all and thanks for reading.
The Ebook of “The Enemy” is available on Amazon with the Paperback coming next week.
Get the last chapters and find out what trouble John and Culsit get into.
Thanks for Reading,
Hello, I am a Fly Fishing addict. I recognize its hold over me and just don’t care. I’m going with it! I think I was put on this earth for one reason, that’s to fly fish.
I can remember from even as young as five or six not having the patience to sit still for long except for one thing, that was fishing. I can readily point to the people that got me hooked (no pun intended) and instead of blaming them I thank them. I am almost 50 and when I was little my Mom would read to me all the time. I can’t remember any of the stories, except one nurse rhyme and I can quote it to this day:
“Fishy, fishy in the brook,
Daddy caught him on a hook,
Momma fried him in a pan,
Baby ate him like a man.”
This rhyme has no known author and there are different wordings for it, but I find it strange that this is the only one I remember word for word after all this time. I can remember her reading it to me while trying to rock my two year old whining butt to sleep. I think this must have been some fishing spell she whispered to me that started this whole addiction rolling. Thanks mom!
My Mom and I went often. She’s more of a cane pole and shade spot fishing lady but that’s all right. I learned how to hold my mouth right so the fish would bite. Although, I think that line about ’we have to be quiet or the fish will hear us and swim away’; might have been a ploy to get me to shut up which I never did.
When my Dad would take me fishing and I could literally sit all day long, staring at the water just watching my bobber. I knew that at any minute it would go under and I would catch a fish. What kind of fish or what size didn’t matter. I think it’s that anticipation, that feeling of not knowing what’s going to happen or what the results will be, that keeps me going. Each trip if full of possibilities.
Around fifteen, my Dad gave me my first fly rod. From that day on I haven’t thought about much of anything else. He taught me to cast which shows the amount of patience he has. I can still see in my memory what my cast look like and I just laugh at myself now. Pitiful flailing back and forth that was more of a danger to me and those around me than to any fish. I remember him taking me to my first fly shop and to be frank, I thought this must be what heaven is like.
Above my fly bench hangs that first rod. Shellac worn off, handle smooth and colored with time, thread wraps exposed and guides polished from line passing over them countless times. People have asked, ‘why don’t you refinish it?’. I wouldn’t dare, because for me, all those dings and wear marks make that rod priceless. That rod is like a magic wand that holds all my fishing ‘mojo’ from over time. It’s seen more waters than I can count and its seen heat, cold and storms that I can’t believe I was insane enough to fish in. I glance at it often and realize it is where this addiction called fly fishing started. It represents hours of hope and despair as I made cast after cast. It represents some of the largest fish I have ever caught, whose memories still shine bright in my mind.
I still have the first vise and fly tying book he bought me around the same time. Of course I’ve upgraded five or six, well more like ten (see fisherman lie a-lot) vices since then but it still sits in a wooden case on my fly tying bench as a reminder of how it all started. In a way, I’m glad I don’t have any of those first flies I tied back then, pitiful excuses for flies as they where. To me at the time, however, they where works of art. It makes me chuckle to myself when I sit down now to tie one of my favorites from back then, just a Catskill Adams, I tie it now and am truly proud of the way it looks and I’ve done it so many times it just comes of the vice with no problems. Not like the struggle that I remember from back then. I think the idea of proper proportions never occurred to me in those early days. It does go to show you that your parents love you and will flat lie to your face to make you feel good about something you’ve created. I laugh when I think of going in and showing them a fly I made and how they would say it was ‘Nice,’ hilarious, I felt like the Michael Angelo of fly tying. I think back now and they looked more like those clay ‘ornaments’ we made in elementary school, it was the thought that counts I guess. I’ve progressed a lot since then and spend as much time tying as I do fishing.
I can remember reading fly fishing magazines and being excited to get up the next morning and putting what I had read to practice. As I tried to sleep that night, I would see in my minds eye the mist coming off the water as the sun hit it and hear the sounds around me, see my perfect cast (to me) roll out. Every trip made me feel like a kid at Christmas and it still does. Today of course visualizing success is a common technique among athletes and even in business. I feel like Al Gore, I think I invented that.
After thirty-three years of fly fishing nothing has changed for me. I still feel just like that kid all those years ago. Looking at fly catalogs like they where some dirty magazine. Planning trips and ways to fish new water or even ways to fish water new I’ve been on for thousands of hours. It’s all the same to me, everything is done to either make money or time to fish. People often ask me how do you know what your passion is; well if you love to do something just as much now as you did over thirty years ago I think you can call that your passion. As for me, however, it’s an addiction. A need, drive, almost like some genetic urge to not swim up stream but to walk in it and catch those fish that are there. Just like those fish are following their genetic makeup to swim and spawn I think I am just following mine to try every thing I can to catch them and if not to at least share some time with them as we both work our way up this stream we call life.
I didn’t know these guys! I just sat there purely stunned. I mean what have I gotten myself into? Its the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere and I’ve got six nutcases around me. I reasoned in my mind what to say, I even started planning moves in case this all went south. I was thinking what it would take to get to my pistol on my pack over in the tent. I looked at rocks near the fire I could use as a weapon, who to take first, who looked the most dangerous.
All these thoughts raced in my head in just seconds and I think he recognized the look in my eyes and took a step back and squatted down and rested his hands on his knees.
“Now John, if you think about it, if we wanted to hurt you, we could have done it last night as we watched you lean back and drink coffee. We could have taken you in the pool earlier today or on the ridge when you would stop to watch your back trail. Anytime we choose my friend.”
Now I was really starting to think of what a mess I seemed to have gotten into.
“Who are you? And what do you want?” I managed to get out.
“Let me ask you John, how many times have you hunted and fished next to the park over the years? How many times and how many parks have you been in?” He said as the grin changed to more of a look of contemplation.
“I don’t know, too many times to count since I was a kid. Why? Who are you?”
“We will get to that but there’s a few things you need to hear and understand first. We’ve watched and protected you since you where a kid, every time you came in here we watched and looked after you. We have saved you more times than we can count, all the while waiting for you to get to a point in your life’s journey where you would be open to our proposal.”
“I’ve never seen you in my life, I have no idea who any of you people are and frankly you’re starting to make me angry. So if you don’t mind, lets get on with this, whatever this is!” I started to stand, getting ready to fight anybody that tried to stop me from leaving.
He just stayed squatted down and as I glanced around to the others, they looked just as relaxed.
“Listen John, you need to calm down a little here and sit and listen to what I have to say.” He just pointed at a spot opposite the fire and him.
I eased down, realizing about the only chance I had now was to listen to his story. As I glanced around I noticed three people seemed to meld back into the darkness and left us by the fire.
“Fine.” I grunted. “Lets hear it.”
“Good, now we are getting somewhere. Have you ever thought about our system of National Parks? Why they where formed? How they came to be?”
“To protect out natural treasures and make a place for all people to enjoy nature.” I answered.
“Sure, Sure but how many stray off the roads or stay outside of the designated camping areas. If, say, you wanted to go into the back country what do you have to do?”
“Get a permit.”
“But why, you just said its so all can enjoy it, why do you need to register to enjoy it?”
“Well, I imagine its to keep track of whose out there and be ready if they need help.” I answered.
“Yeah it’s to keep track but not for the reasons you think. In 1872 Yellowstone was the first park established right? Then in 1916 Wilson created the National Park Service. What else was going on in 1916?” He asked with a glow in his eyes.
“Well, World War One for one thing.” I answered.
“Right, and did you know at that time the War department controlled a lot of those parks? And before you say it was just battlefield sites I’d correct you on that, it was many other areas. Then in 1933 Roosevelt not long after taking office transfers it all to the National Park Service but do you know what else he created?”
“Nope, not a clue.” I answered with a touch of sarcasm.
“Well, the Civilian Conservation Corps for starters but also the National Guard bureau. Do you know why?”
“I think the CCC for to help those affected by the depression and the Guard to prepare for the war he knew was coming?”
“Wrong.” He said bluntly. “It started in the middle of WWI because we found things out here that we needed protection from, not the other way around. When the War Department controlled it, it raised too many questions. The CCC was used to created roads for us into these areas and Parks to keep the public where we wanted them. The Guard was for if it all went south. It’s not the animals in the wilderness we need to fear, but instead its an ancient enemy, one that is just as smart as we are but has the advantage and strength it takes to be formidable. Basically I’m telling you we’ve been at war since 1916 here in our own country and no-one knows the wiser about it and that’s the way it must be kept. We patrol in teams of 12, all of us dedicate our life to this fight. We sometimes scare people out but that’s just to protect them. We fight friend, we fight.”
“War? Fight? Are you high or just totally insane?” I asked.
“No. Well, maybe a bit insane.” He chuckled. “But I am serious, we hand pick who we want, we offer them a choice, join us, help you fellow man or face the enemy alone when you come back.”
“Look, I don’t believe this at all, if there is an enemy out here, put it on the news. Confront the country or people that support them and end it there.” I said.
“The enemy here has no country, no flag. They have been here longer than us and frankly we are all that stand between them and the rest of the country. If you put this on the news, society would collapse within days, religions would collapse, it would be anarchy.” He spoke with passion as he said this.
“Look at you, you’re dressed like a caveman with bad taste, the rest of you look like crap and Im supposed to believe you’re some special branch of the government, some super spies running around the woods? Not a chance!” I said while shaking my head.
He laughed to the point he started coughing. The others joined in and seemed to relax even more. Thats when I notice the guy to the right touch his ear and say something to what appeared to be no-one. Right after this, they all while still chuckling, seemed to be looking behind me. I didn’t hear a sound back there but turned to look and just then six new guys stepped out of the dark behind me. These guys however where dressed totally different. Black fatigues, boots, weapons, night vision, the works. I was stunned even farther.
“Im confused here.” I said as I looked back to him. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”
“The name is Rory, John. Six of us are dressed in this caveman pioneer crap because we have followed you in from the main parking area and if we get spotted dressed like this, people just think we are playing mountain man. If you walked around dressed like that, well people might panic you see.” He said as he pointed to the guys that was taking packs off and sitting on them.
“As far as who I am, I run this group. This is my team. And what we are here for is you. We’ve watched you for years, you move in here like a predator and that’s what it takes to survive what we do. You not going to get rich. There will be no movies or book deals about you and if you get killed, well you’ll just be dead.” He paused, I think to let all this sink in.
“What you will be doing,” He continued, “ Is what you love doing, living most of your time in the wilderness, hunting and being what you was born to be. We find those that the news calls lost but in reality have been kidnapped. We stop the enemy from getting to the outside world, well as best we can. And we watch. We watch for people going where they shouldn’t, we protect those that do and make sure this secret stays just that.”
“What if I don’t want to play along?” I said looking straight at him.
“Well, John, it’s like this. The choice we are giving you is walk away with us now and do what you are born to do or say no; and become another sad statistic in the wilderness.”
I could tell be looking at him that now it had turned serious. This wasn’t a threat, this seemed to be a sure and certain promise.
“What about people back home, this is not fair to them. My Job, my house, what about all those things?” I asked with more than a little concern in my voice.
“Look, all that will be taken care of, this is not slavery. You get leave but you can never tell people what goes on in here. You can never go home again. You can retire if you live that long but I promise you the things you will see and do will more than make up for it.”
He stood up and the others did as well.
“Now grab your pack and get ready to move. I’ll have the three out there on guard take care of your camp. It’s time to choose.”
I stood and looked at all those around me. They all seemed to nod, or wink or put a thumbs up at me as my eyes moved from one to the other. I went to the tent and grabbed my pack. At this point fear had drained from me and that wanderlust had taken over. I really wanted to see what this was all about. If all else failed, I thought I could watch for my time and make a break for it.
As I adjusted my straps, Rory spoke to everyone.
“Two columns, gentlemen, Bill, you take point and me and John will pull the rear until the others join us.” As soon as he finished, I noticed they had all put their gear back on and who I assumed was Bill moved out first heading farther up the ridge along with the others until it came our turn to leave the firelight.
“John, hang with me.” I looked and realized he had small pack under that fur coat and from it he pulled two sets of night vision unlike any I had ever seen and handed me a pair.
“Just flip them down and boom, we walk in the green.” He adjusted the band for me as he said this.
I took one look at my camp and then it was time to go. I looked back up the ridge and flipped them down and entered a world of green.
Part Three coming soon!
The morning sun made the drops of water off the fly line look like little diamonds as the cast rolled out to its mark. It was a sight that burns into your memories then stays with you forever. Tall trees bordered the stream that worked its way thru the valley. Mountains rising up on both sides. The perfect spot.
I fished all day working my way only a few miles upstream when I looked around and realized I only had about two hours of good light left.
Time to make camp.
I picked a nice ridge about 20 feet above the river and started setting up camp. I noticed a lot of game trails running near where I had picked but I then again I had noticed tracks all day long and so far only just that of deer. No black bear. I thought I needed to make a note to mark this area and its trails on a map after I got my camp set because it would make for some nice hunting in the fall. After setting the tent and gathering stones I dug a small size fire pit and went about the business of gathering wood.
As the fire started to blaze nicely I just sat and listened to the woods around me. The sounds of the woods at night are different from the day and if you’re still and pay attention you can notice the change when it starts to happen. As the brookies I had kept that day began to sizzle, I added a few cuts of mushroom and carrot and gave it a stir. I was more focused on making sure my coffee was going to be boiled in time for sunset.
By the time I got the pans cleaned from eating the sun was dipping and the smell of coffee was about all I could handle. As I sat drinking the brew leaned back against a tree the sun slowly slipped behind the mountains to the West. I was exhausted from the day but knew if I turned in now, I’d be up hours before daylight. I just leaned back and closed my eyes with the warm mug keeping my hands warm.
Now I don’t know if I had drifted off to sleep but I jumped with a start when on the ridge above me there was a crash like a tree had blown down. The strange thing about that was that there was not a breath of wind. I chalked it up to the jitters I got up to just the fact that I had dozed off, I should have known better. As the woods turned black I kindled up the fire a little higher than normal. Silly I know but that’s what I did.
I have a habit when I go into the backcountry of not carrying a watch, the sun is my watch. So I couldn’t tell you what time it was, several hours after dark for sure. I was just sitting by the fire listening to the wood pop and letting my thoughts roam when again in the direction the tree fell I heard movement. Maybe fifty or sixty yards away. Deer I thought.
I woke a little after daylight and got ready for another day of working my way up the river to its head waters higher in the mountains. At this point it was turning more into a typical Appalachian stream, dropping fast, pools with waterfalls and small short cast to brookies that probably have never seen a human. This areas terrain was not only remote but pretty steep and dangerous at times. Its not a place you would go for a weekend stroll that’s for sure.
Later in the afternoon I was working a pool at the base of maybe a three or four foot fall when I noticed the rhododendrons above me moving like something was crawling thru them. Knowing a deer wouldn’t do that I automatically assumed it must have been my first curious bear so I picked up a small stone and gave a yell and tossed it that direction. A grunt answered back but the plants didn’t move.
“Didn’t expect a rock did you bear?” I chuckled as I said the words. I could picture the bear crouched down trying to figure out where that rock had sailed in from. Comical I thought.
I shifted my position in the pool so that I could keep and eye on that ridge then went back to my task of being bested by a six inch little fish.
As I put the next cast out, I straightened up and out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of movement up high. As I looked, my heart jumped into my throat as a rock about the size of a basketball was sailing from the tree line to my pool! When it hit it sounded like someone did a cannon ball and I jumped back. Knowing bears don’t throw rocks I shifted from worried mode to angry, that was some idiot up there that has walked in as far as I have and was messing up my fishing.
“Hey! I thought you was a bear when I tossed that rock!” I yelled up the ridge.
No answer at all.
“Come on!”, I said, “I know you’re there, either move on or answer back!”
Not a sound could be heard.
I decided it was time for a break and sat on the opposite ridge and had a snack while watching for movement. After about thirty minutes I decided to pack my rod up and just put a few miles between me and them before making camp.
As I climbed the ridge to walk it above the River I picked the pace up as best I could considering the steepness of it. I stopped randomly and sat and caught my breath and listened to make sure no-one was moving around me. I never heard a sound; not even animals the rest of the day.
That evening I finally stopped to make camp. Doing my usually to get my tent set and a fire going. Tonight would be no fish however, considering how my fishing had been cut short. It was freeze dried stew and coffee for my gourmet dinner.
As darkness crept in, I sat as usual watching the fire. Distracted by the flames, I started to have this feeling that someone was watching me just outside the light of the fire. Now, anyone that’s camped alone before will tell you they’ve had that feeling. It happens when you let you mind wonder sometimes. This was different. A feeling crept over me, not of fear but more of concern.
I looked around and as you do in the dark I didn’t look straight at an area but more to the side to see if I noticed movement. After about my second scan that’s when I saw someone sitting just out of the light.
“You might as well come on in, I see you sitting there!” I said as I pointed a finger right at them.
“I mean you no harm and I assume you don’t either but if you keep just sitting there like that we might have to turn this into a problem between me and you friend!” I uttered as I slowly started to stand and back away from the fire.
As I stood there, I regretted the threat because just then that dude stood up also. He wasn’t much taller than me but just from the glimpse of him in the dark saying he was stout would be an understatement. All kinds of thoughts flew at me at once, if he does this; I’ll do that kind, of stuff.
As I stood my ground, he stepped forward into the firelight.
He stood there grinning. I stood there in shock. I was looking at my face, just older! That was not even the shock, he looked wild. I mean his hair, clothes if you want to call the furs and cloth he had on clothes, everything about him looked wild. I just stood there trying to get words to form.
As I stammered trying to speak, he just grinned even more and motioned with his hand. I realized he was motioning to someone else but I was still in to much shock to even care. Right after he did this, five more people stepped into the light with him. All of them grinning from ear to ear, like they all just heard a joke and I was the punch line.
“Sit down, John, before you fall down.” he said with a chuckle.
I fell down.
“Who?” I stammered, trying to reason how he knew me.
They all just laughed.
“You know who we are! We’ve tried to talk to you before but you wouldn’t listen so we all voted to come have a sit down with you and see if you’d listen then.” He said as they all gathered around the fire and sat down.
THE REST TO COME!!
Often over looked and sometime even sneered at by fly fishing purist, panfish can be a fun and challenging species to fish for. Technical fishing is often linked to Trout but, if you want to find large panfish year round then look a little closer at these exciting fish.
Don’t worry too much about line weights or for that matter rod lengths to start with. You will find that with time you might want 5 or 6 different rods from 2-3 weights up to a 6 weight and in lengths from 6 to 10 feet. Your style and water will help you figure out what works best for you. As for me, my favorite wavers between a 7 foot 3 weight and a 9 foot 6 weight in fiberglass.
Most flies are going to be size 8 or smaller and I’ll let you in on a little secret, a bigger fly doesn’t always mean a bigger fish. While a size 8 will keep most small bream from getting it in their mouths it won’t stop them from hitting it in the first place. Remember a bream mouth is small so it makes sense that small flies get more fish.
Most large panfish didn’t get that way by being stupid. So they tend to stick to deeper depths and tight to cover. The majority of their food is taken below the surface so keep that in mind along with the water you are fishing.
Regardless if it’s a river or still water, study the water and see what’s going on insect wise. Pay attention to what you see flying around the bank. Watch the water and look for any insects that may be hatching. Most of all, watch for the fish. Is it an occasional hit of something on top, or non-stop strikes on the surface? Do they seem to feeding just under the surface? As you learn to watch for the subtlest of clues you will find your success rates increase.
For me it’s mostly still water, so midges are king. I regularly fish size 16 and smaller midges. I use an indicator and occasionally a small weight to get them deep off structure. I use a slow finger retrieve to simulate a slow-moving or dead drifting insect. I find zebra midges, copper johns and glass bead-head flies to work best for me. The colors vary throughout the year but white, rusty-brown, red and black get the job done most of the time.
Mayflies are another insect to focus on, I find my best fly in this category to be a bead-head pheasant tail nymph. Now, when they Mayflies are hatching, I carry several colors of dry flies to take advantage of the occasion. For my area, Cream, Furnace and Grizzly hackle works best for me. Another fly I tie a lot of in summer are damsel flies using foam bodies in the color that closely matches what I see flying around. This is the time to be ready for larger bass. They seem to strike them with abandon very soon after the fly touches the water.
What I am talking about here is hunting big fish. Bream would hit a pencil eraser if conditions are right but if you want to catch large fish and do it year around then you have to pay attention to nature and the cycles of it. For example with a size 18 zebra midge suspended about 7 feet under an indicator and slowly retrieved over a drop off or near some type of cover you will be surprised with the number and size of fish that you will hook. I always scratch my head as to why a fish so large would bother with such a tiny insect but considering the numbers of the insects that are available it makes sense.
In the spring small streamers size 10 or even 12 that simulate newly hatched fry will also work very well. Just watch the shallows and you can see the size and color that match your area. For me its bass fry in a copper brown color.
I do recommend you work on your casting skills. They will be more important than even your fly selection because at times you will have to cast in tight spaces and this is where practice in the yard at home pays off. Work on bow cast, roll cast, side arm cast and learning to shoot your back cast up at different angles. Double hauling and long cast are truly a rare thing the way I fish.
Leaders I like to use are 9 to 10 feet long tapered down with a tippet from 4x to 6x depending on the fly. I use tippet rings for the simple fact that I’m often having to change size or add length to a tippet. It gets worn and frayed quite easily.
Focus on the early morning or late evening when the heat is more bearable in summer. In winter I prefer mid-day for my comfort and heating of the water from the sun.
Light winds can be advantageous for you because you can drift a fly with it and the slight ripple can give it an enticing jigging motion. Watch that strike indicator! The strike will be more subtle than you would think of a warm water species. Often it will just be a slight pause if the fish just inhales the fly and starts to quickly reject it. The other and most common way is just a slow steady disappearance of the indicator.
Most people think the bigger the fish the harder the take but I’ve observed over the years that large panfish seemed to have a more subtle take. Young fish tend to think they are sharks and hit everything hard and fast. So watch for the slightest twitch or the slowly disappearing indicator.
The most important advice I can give is this, be patient. Work an area slowly and steadily, move you cast in a fanning pattern. If that doesn’t work, adjust your depth and repeat working the area. It might take several tries of depth and speed of the retrieve to find the fish but when you do it will be more than worth it.
Bottom line, don’t think that fly fishing for panfish is something to do between trout trips. Instead think of it for what it is. A challenging and rewarding species to target that will require as much skill and patience as trying to catch the traditionally thought of fly fishing species. I find it good to keep a fishing journal so from month to month and year to year I can track which flies and methods work best.
Remember, use realistic looking aquatic insects flies, work the area slow and steadily and watch the water.
Practice your casting skills!
Most of all relax and enjoy every minute you can spare on the water.
For the first time in a while, I got to fish with my Dad. It has been awhile since we’ve been able to go together. Life sometimes seems to get in the way. Or maybe we let it get in the way.
We met up at my house and went about an hour away to the Sipsey Fork River. It is a classic tailrace river that is a put and take fishery but considering we live in the deep south, it’s a rare thing to fish clear water that is about 58 degrees and much less for rainbow trout. The next closest trout fisheries are at least several hours away.
We pulled up to the parking lot and started putting our gear on and rigging our rods. My dad is a former green beret and commented that getting waders, vest, and other gear on reminded him of getting ready to get in a helicopter. It made me laugh because luckily on this trip nothing was going to shoot at us.
After walking the half of a mile down to the river the true fun began. The river wasn’t crowded thankfully and the water was flowing well with perfect weather. Being that my dad had never been to this river, I pointed out the spots that I had taken some nice trout from. Not that he necessarily believed me, I have a tendency to maybe stretch the truth about where I caught fish and what fly I was using. He had good reason to be suspicious. One freezing January day years ago my Dad, Uncle and I were fishing the Tennessee River. As my uncle and I landed one stripper after another with a pink marabou fly, of course we gave him a green one, dad landing nothing. Dad kept asking what fly we where using and we continued to be a bit vague about what we had on. He finally it figured out. I still chuckle at that, so now its a running joke that you can never trust me once I get on the water.
We both rigged to fish midge larva since there didn’t seem to be any hatches coming off, besides, this river is a midges paradise. As we fishing our way up the river we stopping to talk to each other about fish we had spotted, the flies we had tried and the mountains around us. As time went on more fisherman arrived and we gladly shared pools and talked about things we might try to get a fish on. To this point nothing had produced a fish, a few takes, but nothing else. Later in the day, Dad and I were fishing a long pool together when a boat came floating down with a team of scientist that monitor the trout in the river with radio tags. As she stood in the front of the boat with her antenna waving around I simple asked if she could just point out where the biggest trout where that would be nice. Of course she jokingly said that was cheating. I’d prefer to think of it as a prudent use of technology.
We had just had two weeks of heavy rain and high water and all the fishing seemed to be holding higher in the river than we got to that day. At least thats my excuse for why I failed to land a fish.
As the sun started to slide behind a ridge to the West I was fishing a pool and my dad has moved up to fish the run into that pool. As I stood there, the sun streamed over the mountain at just the right angle that cast the river in a shadow but lit him up in rays of gold. I stopped fishing and just watched him, the master in action. He finally paused and sat on a boulder and just watched the river. I wondered what he was thinking but didn’t want to intruded on his thoughts. There was no need to anyway, I know we where thinking the same thing, even though we didn’t land any fish that day, it doesn’t get any better than this.
One of many trips to come.
So if you get a chance to fish with your dad or a good friend, don’t pass it up, a river is more enjoyable when you share it with someone.