I have been so bad this spring about getting out to go fishing.
Not enough time..too cold..too busy..too many excuses..
So yesterday morning I decided that I had exhausted all acceptable reasons not to go fishing, geared up and made the short run to Searsmont. Under normal circumstances YOU would NOT find me fly casting in the rain but that indeed is what I found myself doing.
And I found it to be peaceful and soothing, surrounded by the lush greenness of a mid-May spring day and the accompanying plops of raindrops falling on my head.(Catchy phrase there, maybe I should think about writing a song…)
Anyways..Yearning, really just dreaming to possess even a tiny portion of Issac Walton’s power of observation, it finally dawned on me that there were no bugs and no rising brook trout.
Perhaps a dry fly wasn’t the right choice. Maybe they were lurking below, waiting for a morsel of food, riding the undercurrents. Changing to a wet fly, I cast toward the opposite bank, letting the flow of the stream carry my offering into the pool below me. And then…BANG!
The way my ultralight fly rod was torquing this had to be an exceptional brookie! And when brought to net, it was revealed…
a nice little bass.
Not what I was hoping for but fun to catch on light gear just the same.
After releasing my first catch of the season I moved on down the bank of the stream to where in the distance the water was moving over rocks and forming rapids.
but unfortunately no time.
That work thing always seems to get in the way of fun.
So having broken my fishing funk I’m looking forward to returning very soon. Perhaps some warm evening when the bugs are buzzing and the brookies are biting.