Monday, December 21, 2009

Two hard

I have learned limits of the flyrod. Not personal but factual. Water clarity, surface ripples, these are your foes. You are not in Mexico, you are not in the Carribean, you are not in a swimming pool. You are in mud, oyster, sand and brown. Marsh, salt, green and blind. You will not cover water like you used to, you are not trying for all the bites, just the ones that reward your efforts. Although wind can be your friend, untill after taking time to position yourself casting with the breeze at your back it decides to turn and change your options. Wading with a flyrod can be frustrating. A boat most certainly gives you sight. Which is lacking on foot. With stained clarity. And surface ripples.

"Some days you should just stay home"
Or at least you tell yourself that when after hours of futile arm motions and hand spinning leave you with no more slime on your hands than you would have had if you did the same thing in your room. Untill you see something in the water, something in the current. A tide line, a flying signal, a reason to venture more in this direction rather than that. A feeling you should concentrate your repetitive rytham change and monofilament flung gropings where the results are more likely to achieve results that are wished and expected.

"Sometimes this works"
On the second day I found feeding trout and reds in a bending tide line. I managed half a dozen specks and a red which I released. A hard day untill then. And the flurry was just as fleeting and bittersweet. The sun goes down and the tide goes slack. Leaving me standing, waiting for a pickup.

Others, no"
I did manage to not get skunked today. Although all I caught was a "convict fish". On a corkey nonetheless. I also hooked one on a fly I tied but by the time I made the decidion to walk back to the boat to get the fly gear the sun had fallen low and I couldnt spot and stalk easily. I did have a large fish wake behind my fly while blind casting a clear streak but half an hour of that got tiresome. Three days of hitting it hard has taken its toll. Im beat. Hopefully next time Ill have better luck and freash arms. Oh Matagorda, you always catch me at my worst. And I you. You are a fickle whore.

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