Jonny is Doing Striper Recon

I love trout streams, but the sea is a sweet whore that I covet more with time.

It's like emerging from one of those space pods where I've been asleep for a very long time. Not that I'm stirring unaware of the 10,000 years now passed. I mean where you've lived them all. Alive under permafrost. The end of days. 

To the river today for the early season striper slaughter. Some 20, 30, 50 fish I'd catch on a watchamacallit line and a Bead-chain-Clouser-Flatwing-Deceiver-Fagend - these fish aren't discerning creatures, and they're hungry, and thanks to my new iPhone (copyright pending) I now realize that most fish don't give a flying shit; they just eat stuff. Not entirely unlike humans in this respect. You might want to power down your PC and think about that for a day or two.  

Welcome back. So I met Steve (The Fisherman) and Bob (Flyrodder) at The Place with 2 or so hours of outgoing tide left. I've put their real names in parentheses so you know who I'm on about. It was blowing 20-30 MPH from the north-west, so right in our coupons (Scots - noun; meaning "face"). Casting was towards shore for us righties, then throw it up-current a bit and hope I don't snag the next fella in the cue. But today the line was only 4 or 5 others and, to those of you who know, this can mean only one thing: the fishing hasn't happened yet. We all agreed - almost as if we had the faintest scooby doo (Scots, cartoon character, immortalized in Glasgow;  slang, meaning "clue") about anything at all - that it hasn't happened yet. It's late, you see. Because of the harsh winter. The Forsythia hasn't quite ripened. Please: today's spartan tally had nothing at all to do with the inescapable fact that we caught sweet Fanny Adam (nothing) while the other 4 anglers did quite nicely (on fly). Clearly they were fishing flies with eyes. Or something else Heathen.

Anyway, these photos are for my land-locked friend who misses the salt. I can confirm that, despite nae fish, today was deeply pleasurable. A million miles from the trout/steelhead paraphernalia, today I threw 4 things in the boot (trunk) and went about my fishing. Any day now I'm going to have me a bag full of cocks. And when I do, my friends, then, and only then, will it be spring.

It's the hand break, but I was pleased to be fishing.

Windy. I don't want to do this again, but today was exceptional. I'll be there Tuesday.

I was terribly bored. This is my IKEA footstool stripping basket (copyright pending). The rod is Orvis or whatever.

 Jonny