Saturday was sunny and 73 while Sunday was right around 30 with big winds, snow and rain. On Saturday we chased landlocked Salmon to no avail. We saw a handful, but couldn't get any takers. Sunday found us on the edge of a cold front driving hard wind and a mixture of rain, sleet and snow. We fished hard but the fishes were not interested in anything that we were throwing. At least I got a couple of good pictures and good times on the water.
This past weekend I had the chance to meet up with some friends and swing some water for finned citizens. The fishing was slow but the photography and company was good. One of the benefits of lugging a camera around is to attempt to capture some of the beautiful images that one sees stream side. Even when the fishing is slow , great company and a picture or two make the trip special.
This past weekend I had the opportunity to join a friend and a bunch of his friends in a little fishing and some eating of some great steak. The fishing was challenging in the low water but fun was had.
This past weekend I had plans to hit the coast for more saltwater action but gale warnings kept me closer to home. With a wide variety of options and too much sun I decided to go trout fishing. Had the weather been cloudy there were other options I would have explored but when life gives you lemons one makes lemonade. While I love so many different species trout fishing always feels like coming home especially in the fall.
The other day while on a walk I realized I've been fly fishing in one form or another for forty freaking years! I'm not exactly sure how I got the bug as no one in my family fished, but I got it. As a kid, my mom bought my brother and sister and me spinning rods. My first fish ever was a tiny striped bass. I spent at least two summers dunking sea worms for flounder and only caught a half dozen or so. Later I eagerly plied the local ponds for bass and pickerel and the rare brook trout. To my young mind, trout fishing represented the holy grail of fishing, never mind that trout fishing was severely limited where I grew up, but the desire was there.
I remember in 7th grade buying this book on fly fishing
In it contained all the worldly knowledge that an eager kid could want: info on rods, leaders, flies, how to cast, how to dry fly fish etc. Looking at the pictures of the authors fishing around the country blew me away. An 18" brown seemed like a monster to me. I'd only caught a couple of 8-9" brook trout that migrated out of a local pond to spawn. We had to crawl on our hands and knees and dap a worm to catch those little gems. If they saw you they were gone. Such was the state of my passion that one opening day a buddy and I slept outside, got up at the crack of dawn, and biked to an estuary to fly fish for trout. If it had been twenty years later we might have caught some stripers. I think we even were using dry flies. We had the fire, but not the knowledge.
Anyways my forays into fly fishing didn't get more serious until I went to college in western Massachusetts. I didn't have much of a clue but then I read these two books Richards and Swisher and Fly fishing Strategy and learned to tie some flies.
In western Massachusetts I found two tail waters and started learning via the school of hard knocks. I didn't catch many trout with a fly rod in my hands so I often reverted back to the spinning rod in order to catch something. After my sophomore year two buddies and I headed to Alaska. Our plan was to go to AK and work in the canneries. Of course I brought my fly rod and spinning rod. That's where things changed dramatically for me in terms of fly fishing. More of that in my next chapter.