Jonny,
I worked on the trim around the new bathroom closet door most of the afternoon, plus some other shit like that. It's hot and humid and miserable so when we got done I thought I'd go fish before I finally got cleaned up and showered. River is still a bit high and off-color and I was fishing by myself (wading), all of which means I almost immediately got discouraged. When a kayaker came by and said he'd floated about five miles without a bite, I got more discouraged. When my leader got tangled fiercely, I almost broke the rod over my knee. Instead, I just pulled the tangle snugly until the knot it created resembled a pit of snakes. Because I knew I wasn't going to catch any fish. So who cares if your leader has a giant knot. Right?
I shortly thereafter caught the small bass, in a spot exactly where a bass should have been.
This was a little encouraging so I decided to fish a little farther just so I could cover a few submerged rocks and work some weeds along the near bank. There was a very dark calm back eddy under some overhanging tree branches that looked inviting so I put my fly there on three consecutive casts, each one just a foot or so farther downstream than the last, and on this third one the big bass took the fly in an explosive take that probably made me piss myself (I was wading, so it was hard to say.). When I set the hook, there was absolutely no "give" so I knew the fish was solid. It jumped and I could see it, and that's when I started to get nervous about the leader. The fish left the back eddy and got into the main current, which was shallow and fast, so the fish was really pulling. It jumped once more, and then eventually after what was a fairly long fight I steered it over to the backside weeds and was able to lip it. The fly was ruined and I was satisfied, so I walked back upstream to the car and sent you that text. I was on the water for perhaps 45 minutes, and covered about 600 feet of river.
Now I'm drinking a beer.
Yellow popper was my most productive fly on this day.
That's a beauty T.J.!
ReplyDeleteFlippin monstrous. My kinds of report. The Antithesis of Edwardian lady.
ReplyDeleteI didn't know there were fish in Indiana.
ReplyDeleteI had these shipped in from the east coast. Connecticut, I think. I feed them pork tenderloins until they reach eatin' size.
DeleteThose tenderloins will fatten them up good and quick. Word is getting around. I've seen the tenderloin fly on the Orvis site.
DeleteIt's spreading like the Plague. The texture and all around experience of The Indiana Sandwich is a lot like having the Plague, I should imagine.
DeletePS. Our Blog readers can now read these posts on Fly-addict. Or right here. I may also read them on my phone when I'm visiting the lavatory.
ReplyDeleteThere's nothing better than dinking around with low expectations only to tie into a nice fish.
ReplyDeleteThere is most certainly a lesson in there somewhere.
DeleteDid you take my sammich? Don't eat that, my ex made it!
ReplyDelete