When I was younger, I would often brag about being on my favorite stream on opening day of trout season in spite of what Mother Nature may have planned for the day, and how it would sometimes would be so cold that the line would freeze to the rod and I’d have to break the ice out of the rod tip so that I could cast a lure.
Eventually, I wised up. Now I find a warm breeze, sun on my face and the fresh scent of spring, to be more desirable than cold temperatures, a biting wind, and even colder water.
You could say that I’m a fair-weather fisherman. It was an evolution that took place after I ran out of excuses for missing opening day.
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Even now, however, a little pressure can get me out on the water ahead of the May flowers. Such was the case this past weekend when I got out for a few hours of fishing on the Ten Mile River. I’ve resolved to get out on the water more often this season, so when a friend called to say he wanted to go out I took the invite, hook, line and sinker.
I’m glad I went. No, not one fish did I catch. But if catching fish is the sole criteria for a good day of fishing, few of us would even bother to suit up.
Because fishing was so slow, the highlight of the day became the opportunity to sit alongside the river and eat a sandwich with the warm sun shining on my face. How good is that? The bonus was listening to the water push past the few boulders that pockmark the surface of the river in that area.
As we sat there, we dredged up a few memories of past trips. I was comparing the river bottom to that of the West Branch Ausable River, though it’s really not much of a comparison. The Ausable is literally boulder strewn and much harder to wade. The problems I have with the Ten Mile have more to do with my weakening ankles, not to mention that I no longer have a young man’s sense of balance.
Instead of the typical wading staff like the one I use, I think I’m going to have to invest in one of those canes that have four small feet at the end instead of a single tip. Maybe I’ll get two, one for each hand. It’s either that or a walker. Even when I was standing still, just the movement from casting made me feel like I was about to take a tumble. I can’t imagine the picture of grace and agility that I projected back to shore.
Just thinking about it made me recall something that a well-known fly fishing author John Gierach wrote some years ago. He was relating a story that had been told by someone else to a farmer he knew.
The farmer said, “The doctor told [me] how he was once fishing in the Wind River area of Wyoming and he looked up and far above on the side of the canyon, two dogs sat on a rock peeking at him from the brush that surrounded the rock. Only they weren’t dogs, they were coyotes. They were curious about what he might be doing standing in a river waving a stick.” Gierach got such a chuckle out of that, he turned it into the title of a book, one of the more than two dozen that he has authored or co-authored.
My performance was a little different. From the shore, it was probably hysterical to see someone gripping a fly rod in one hand, holding on to a wading staff for dear life with the other, hogtied by their own fly line that had collapsed around them, leaving him unable to move for fear of going headfirst into the river.
By the time we were done fishing and getting ready to leave, another angler worked his way upstream to us. He volunteered that he lives within a stone’s throw of the river but said that he generally fishes the Housatonic across the border in Connecticut. He inquired about our success, or lack thereof, and told us that he had seen some bug activity. We had too. Stoneflies, I told him.
Unfortunately, neither he nor we had even one fish show any interest in what we were throwing at them; not a roll, not a rise, not a boil. We might have thought there wasn’t a fish in the river, but we know better.
But it is still early. The water is still fairly cold. By the next time I get out in a week or two I’m hoping that my toes won’t freeze and bug activity will pick up. I’m trusting that May will be magical.
Streams will be receiving their final round of stocking over the next week or two, but based on the number of people I’ve seen on most local streams there should be plenty of fish left out there from the first round of stocking. If you get away from the roads and bridges you might also find a few hold-overs; you just have to work for them by getting off the beaten path.
For now, continue fishing slow and deep. Make sure you carry and use a wading staff. You should also consider leaving a few fish in the river for the next guy or gal. Just be careful how you handle any fish you intend to return to the river.
Bill Conners of the Federation of Fish and Game Clubs writes on outdoors issues in Players. Email: conners@billconners.net
https://www.poughkeepsiejournal.com/story/sports/recreational/2018/04/18/what-makes-fishing-great-besides-catching-fish/525533002/Bagikan Berita Ini
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