Signs said the water had dropped significantly in the last twenty-four hours. The flats were clear and had changed their shape since the last visit. No surprise: it has been a summer spent considering Cyprinidae an afterthought. The prime entry points are dotted with footprints. In two stops over three miles and hours we count a half-dozen fellow anglers, remarking to ourselves on the silliness of those wearing waders. The carps waver from nowhere to be found to skittish as urban squirrels in a neighborhood full of outdoor house cats. We conclude that marching forth is futile – the river is off-color downstream, and has taken a hammering throughout our present coordinates.
Carp do not like crowds, and their knowledge of your presence almost always coincides with the beer o’clock chime. Let those cutting their teeth suffer the impecuniosity of hookups.
Chatter turns to fitting alternatives…
THE RATIONAL: Do you think it’s worth hitting The Mile in late September?
YOURS TRULY: Too early. But definitely a go the month after.
THE RATIONAL: We could fly into Missoula, but you have to promise you won’t blog about where I take you.
YOURS TRULY: I don’t have a problem with that, although it may be too late for a definite plan – I’m tight on time through the holidays. But I do think dropping the boat into Location X and seeing how it fishes back towards shore is a good idea. No use giving up completely until we’ve exhausted all changes in tactics.
THE RATIONAL: Next weekend. I just need to pick up new oars. I also think we need to hit Location Y and Z every chance we get. You know if we make the haul enough times, we’ll eventually wind up in the same situation as 2011.
YOURS TRULY: Very good idea. What’s the line on the Alabama/VT game?
THE RATIONAL: Some goof actually called for an upset.
YOURS TRULY: I think that fact constitutes the new Plan B.
And so it went. Jalapeno poppers, ribs, wings, refreshments, and ESPN GamePlan.
The Georgia Bulldogs lost their opener, and the Florida Gators won theirs. The following morning was consumed with cool grey skies. The summer heat may still rear its unpleasant head, but autumn is close at hand. Nothing was accomplished, besides recharging the batteries in front of a widescreen.
All seems right with the world.
MG signing off (at least for the time being)