To make a long story short, I’ve been on a dry fly binge. As a result, I’ve been catching a lot of small fish, and this last weekend was no different. Armed with a noodle in weight forward four I tagged a lot of fish, but I’d be hard pressed to say anything broke the 12-inch mark. I’m plenty satisfied, but the news has caused significant consternation amongst others and I’m losing friends (who regularly peg beads and throw barrel-eyed bunny strip).
I’ve even been told to cut the crap…
Trout geeks like to say that, “it’s not fishing unless you’re losing flies.”
But in the capr realm, “it’s not fishing unless you’re breaking rods.”
Now quit harassing those ghey ‘lil trout, dump those silly #20 comparaduns, put “Master of Puppets” on 11 and git out there and break some shit…
I leave it to the outsiders’ imagination who “B” is, but let’s just say he always wins. The rest of you probably have a clue already.
While discussing the prior weekend’s events I noted that I now find multiple fly rigs somewhat inefficient, particularly when casting to trout on the inspect and reject curriculum, and that I was swearing them off for a while. One participant in the talk replied that it was a worthy experiment I was about to embark on, then mumbled something about a psychiatrist friend “I just had to meet”. I only got halfway through describing my thoughts to another when they simply hung up.
I decide to go chase some
golden bonefish stinkwater redfish sewer trout this afternoon because carp are about to intrude on my sentient being like out-of-town fly-fishing guides intrude on my sofa. I have to dust off the six-weight despite all the delicate, small stream juju I’ve built up. Jim “Masked Avenger” Kanda and I saw a lot of action, and wound up pleased with ourselves despite the fact we didn’t bring any slimy critters to hand.
Then I drop by the post office and find a care package has been delivered from Sacramento, CA, land of busted budgets and fancy fly-tying scissors. I was immediately jazzed about Keith Barton‘s latest invention, but it was the dubbing that really got to me.
It takes a true nutcase to get wound up about dubbing, but not only did this particular material look oh so fine, one of the colors was olive! For what odd reason I didn’t have any olive only Einstein and the Dalai Lama could figure, but just the other day I went digging for some and couldn’t find any.
I was told point blank that some dubbing expert from Minnesota might be quite jealous of this product, and it just so happens that same expert will soon be taking advantage of my extraordinarily comfortable and quite fairly priced sofa. This expert just so happens to favor carp fishing too. Even the newbies worship this guy, and I suspect I can trade some of the body material for smothered burritos and a few cold ones.
I now scratch my head.
Should I continue trout fishing with light lines and single dries, or would tossing some streamers with a 200 grain line curry favor with the old crowd? Would that add to the positive rays obviously cast upon me? What would happen if I devoted the rest of my life to catching carp instead? Maybe just with dry flies? I wonder if excursions for largemouths count as brownlining.
I could give up fly-fishing, sell all my worldly possessions, made up primarily of some well used rods and reels, a few hundred thousand flies, and a [conspicuously] unevenly groomed collie dog, then join a monastery…
…or maybe I should just start charging for the sofa time, payable in Macallan Fine & Rare. That’s good karma, isn’t it?
MG signing off (to contemplate that which is incomprehensible, or just plain confusing)