I picked up fly fishing this year with a hand me down rod from B, and some learner’s camaraderie from Rachael. I’ve been out fishing about 10 times now, and I have yet to catch a single fish. Obviously I still have a lot to learn – maybe my knots are too big, maybe my line is too short, maybe my cast is too rough, or just maybe, fish are too damn smart to be fooled by my tricks. Regardless of my luck/lack of skill, it’s darn lovely to be out in the middle of a river, relatively alone, and listening to the sound of water. Even more exciting are the small little adrenaline rushes you get when you see fish smell your fly only to promptly ignore it and eat a bug mere inches away from your fly. One day, fishies, one day.
A couple weeks ago, Rachael and I took a quick little one nighter camping trip to 11 Mile Canyon with the intent to catch heaps of fish to cook over the camp fire. But then, there was a fire ban in effect. And then, it rained on us almost all evening and night. At one point, huddled under a tree in our raincoats, we debated giving up and driving the 2 hours back to Denver. Thankfully the rain let up long enough for us to cook a meal, drink some beers, and play a few rounds of Bananagrams. Lastly, neither of us caught a fish. Rachael got 2 hits though, so there’s that. It was still an enjoyable 2 days, and we got some lovely views even at the crowded campground.
Until next time, fishies….