I had a plan. But I started to abandon that plan as I drove on the Turnpike and the tractor trailers were swerving because of the wind. It was 34 degrees, wind would be straight in my face, and I wouldn't even enjoy myself, casts would be a hot mess, and I definitely wouldn't catch anything.
But I decided that I had a plan and you never know. I figured it would just be a entry into this years fishing journal of another skunked trip. But skunky trips are good too, you always learn something. Luckily I had a pair of Duck Boots in the truck so I wouldn't have to do the Croc dance in the mush.
And I must have caught the sustained 26.5 mph gusts on the wind report and not the 10.4 mph out of the west as reported. So I made my way to the river and along the way started to think of what I would
throw for the 5 casts that I would make before quitting. I don't think there's bunker or herring but there may be some smaller baits that I could imitate. I like the small yellow flies as somehow to me they look like a mummichog. So I got to my spot. It was honking. It was cold. I went tight on my first cast.
I can honestly say I was shocked. So I went back for another and I set the hook hard on something near the bottom, and then I realized it was the bottom. I tried to no avail to free it but just broke off the 25 lb fluoro. I was just half-assing it so I didn't bring my mobile tackle box in my Orvis Sling Pack.
Do I walk out and get some leader material and come back for more? Your fingers are bright red. You already caught a fish. Call it a day and a story. Nope. They could be in there good. So I walked back to my truck and found what I needed. (Just a hint, look hard below my second finger). And off
I went. I retraced my steps until I got to a spot where I could tie on a leader and and pick another winning fly. I looked down and found there was no line on the spool. Mmmm? I swore there was line on it the other day. Oh, well, days over, time to go to work. So as I got closer to my truck I could see
the shimmer of fluoro in the sun. I tracked it from my truck about 60 feet in the direction I had walked. So I had to walk and reload the line. They really should dog the end of the line off at the spool, even with just a piece of tape. It was another trip to my spot and a few casts in and I was tight again. This
time a shorter but stouter pretty fish that took a similar fly. That fly was from one of those days where I could sit and actually tie more than one of the same pattern. They must have liked it. The wind kicked in another notch and I can tell you it tested every line management technique I know.
You know when you are casting facing backward to go forward and you see your line in a tight loop but below that is all the line that should be in your stripping basket? Or every time you strip into your basket and it just dumps onto the rocks or that cute little 20 inch scrub that your standing next to?
I had another on before my fingers sounded the alarm. I had a good tide, good fish, and would have liked to stay on the ebb, all the way through. But I'm lucky I went......always go.