I will probably have to spend a drizzly, foggy spring morning on Lake George , in my continued frustration filled, landlocked salmon quest.
When will “it” finally happen? When will I have salmon success? I know I can catch them. I’m positive that they are not just a figment of my imagination. Didn’t “it” happen last year
on Lake St. George?
and then again at West Grand?
Admittedly, I did have to forgo my preferred method of trolling streamer flies to go with an imitation smelt wobbler...I know, I know, the purity of my quest of landing a salmon on the fly was demeaned and cheapened. What can I say but desperation brings on pressure and the overwhelming desire to succeed.
The little red devil on my right shoulder shouting into my ear , “Use the wobbler! We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious….”
While the little angel on my other shoulder, was pleading to me, defending goodness and righteousness it kept whispering, “stay with the streamer”.
What to do?
Opening my tackle box, my hand passed over my streamer fly selection, fingers trembling, hesitating, momentarily reaching for one of the beautifully hand tied flies but stopping…….
Listening once again to the tempting one…. asking me , “What has that Gray Ghost or Supervisor or Barnes Special done for you lately?”
And so I yielded to temptation and chose a green, black and silver, cold, impersonal piece of stamped out metal, only to be rewarded..
If you can say that this little silverback classifies as a reward.
The future does not bode well for me..what’s next? Becoming a worm dunker again?
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