30 July 2010
The Fishing Condition
)Published on July 30th, 2010 @ 07:01:30 am, using 409 words, 30 views
I took a day off. As you probably noticed I have ben less than attentive to my blog posts lately and my videos became less frequent. We have been BUSY and after 82 days in a row without a day off I pretty much crashed and slept. After spending a few days with the family and trying to remind my kids they actually have a father and not a morning boat ghost, I decided to go fishing.
This is my tenth year in the fishing business, and although all of my enthusiam for the game is still intact it has become a bit weird to fish by myself for myself. No clients, no kids, no buddies, just you and some familiar trout. No cheers or whines. Hookup or miss, mine is the only reaction.
When I go fishing it has to be a solitary experience. If you have been guided by me you know how anal I am about where I put in at in relation to river traffic. I want my boats to feel like we are the only anglers on the planet that day on that river.
So I decided to walk down and fish the swirly in front of our property in Huson. By early evening in this spot all the boats are long gone and it being private access I am pretty much guaranteed to have to myself – and I did.
I no longer charge rivers, I wait, watch, enjoy, and to my utter surprise someone put two ice cold Coors in my fishing vest. The big 16 ouncers, nice touch. Better get one down while the PMD’s start their evening trickle through the top slot. Beer is better with Mayflies.
I had three hours scheduled of me fishing time. After I wathched them go between sips of beer, I put myself in positon and picked off three Clark Fork Bullets in a row in the first half hour. As I looked around and saw nothing but more snouts sucking in the evening buffet in the fading butter of a falling sun I decided to call fishing off in leu of another Coors and a bank side seat.
Yes, I could have frantically – got up on point, rammed them, got em good, did the evil, sore mouthed them, holy cow they ate it, used the secret fly, etc..
Instead they did their thing in peace and I did mine.
Not fishing in Montana can be great.
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