On the ride up to a Gold Medal trout water today:
Angler 1: I rowed that stretch 25 times last year. We stuffed pigs every run, and by the end of the season I was sick of the place. But I did hook one that would have pushed 20 pounds.
Angler 2: Did you get a picture of that fish?
Angler 1: No, I didn’t land it. But I did land one over 13.
Angler 2: Did you get a picture of THAT fish?
Angler 1: Yea. I think so.
Uncertainty remains, no matter the time nor the place nor the size. Although size matters (and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise).
Some fish for the peace and serenity, while others do so to knock everyone in their gang off their perches.
Some take pictures to capture the surroundings – they conjure magic in pixels. Others accumulate bragging rights, for the ride home and beyond.
I fished without a camera on my person today – the Pentax Optio that became a mainstay of my gear bag is gone.
I caught one decent rainbow while everyone was watching, and then ventured off on my own. A BWO hatch appeared out of nowhere, on a bluebird day. I cast tiny flies onto fast water shadowed by tall pines. And picked up a handful of dinks.
Neither art nor hero shot to speak of.
Did the entire day even happen at all?