A Day on the Water

No alarm set, but I still wake up early. I get to go fishing today. My coffee tastes just a little bit better because it’s Saturday.

My truck is ready and willing to take me to the river and starts without a fuss. The wind is supposed to gust over 30mph later on so the early angler gets the trout, I hope.

I check a spot that was partially iced over during the big freeze and it looks as juicy as the steak I made two night ago. The recent warming trend led to a bit of snowmelt so the water is just a little bit off color, perfect for throwing streamers.

I keep my favorite Carhartt vest on instead of swapping it out for my Icelandic sweater because there’s simply no need for it today. The sun is out and it’s time to christen my new streamer rod.

After slipping on a snow covered rock, I set my feet for the first cast. I always try and catch a fish on my first cast. Today, nothing. I cast further across the pool and let my sinking line do its job. This Scott rod was a smart purchase. Strip, strip. Strip, strip. Strip, strip, strip…wham. Fish on. I’ll take a fish on my second cast any day of the week—especially Saturday.

I snap a mediocre picture of a spotty, chubby rainbow as it darts to freedom through a hole near the top of my net that’s gotten quite a bit bigger. Survival. Guess I’d better fix that.

American Dippers flit and flutter about looking for an early lunch, unbeknown to my presence. It’s their river after all, not mine. Strip, strip. Strip, strip. I hear a big splash downstream wondering what that fish was after since there are no bugs on the surface. Strip, strip. Strip, strip.

I bring a healthy, sparsely spotted brown trout to hand. The fish are getting bigger. Strip, strip. Strip, strip. I fish an area I did a few weeks back hoping for more eager trout.

Strip, strip. Strip, strip. Nothing. I bring my fly in more aggressively, almost spitefully, ready to move downstream. A big brown follows it in. I pause. One more strip before I watch him eat and then set the hook. Fish of the day.

I wave to a couple on their porch. Town is fishing good today. Strip, strip, strip. Strip, strip, strip. I change up the cadence of my retrieve. They’re not eating on the swing, but at least they’re interested. I hear a rustle in the tall, half dead brush behind me. Nothing. Probably just more birds playing, but I still get goosebumps. Strip, strip. Strip, strip. Lost one. Gotta strip set faster next time.

I lose a fly in a branch behind me. It happens. Retie and cast again. Strip, pause, strip. Strip, pause, strip. Fish on. A very spotty brown shows off her colors before heading back home. I give the fish a goodbye kiss. I do that sometimes. I wonder if anyone saw?

Who cares. I’m fishing and they’re not.

Back upstream to fish my last pool before calling it quits. The wind is picking up and I’m more than content with my day. Strip, strip. Strip, strip. I didn’t hook anything here last time either. Must be they don’t like me—No worries.

Everyday on the water is a blessing. Tight lines everyone.