Without engrossing detail, there was a fishing trip this past Sunday. And seeing as it was Easter, we had the whole place to ourselves. Very nice.

The plan was to float downstream while slinging the ugliest clumps of hair and hook that could be mustered on a six-weight, hence igniting the furor of above-average sized predators.

At around the halfway point in our journey things were going precisely as figured.

Then ole Clem screwed up the curve…

Minutes later a roughly eight pound fish was brought beside the boat.  That otherwise respectable trout was hustled home with little fanfair.  You know you’ve had a good day when the normal pigs are relegated to dink status.

Would it have been nice if Clem had reserved his performance for within eyeshot of the takeout? Naw.

MG signing off (’cause trout fishing ain’t so bad after all)

Editor’s note: The above pictured beast was released without harm. In fact, it bolted off the bank with vigor. In accordance with the original plan.