As I got dressed in the parking lot made sure I had three important things. One, my stripping basket, two, a measuring tape so I could get a dead on measurement of my near 40-inch fish, and three, Flatwing Joe's "Fighting Crab" fly, which is a proven winner.
Even while I dressed things still weren't all that bad, some wind, yes, but the sun being out early had me pumped. That was until you walked around and got right into the head-on path of Mother Nature's turbine jet, which she had on full blast. It was the top of the incoming, maybe it'll die on the flip? Yeah right.
I thought I could escape the wind a bit and might be able to see some fish swimming up and down the banks of the channel. I walked and walked and didn't see what I was looking for. Usually these fish are here, taking a different route from the deeper channel to go from the sound, to the inlet, to inside the pond.
I had enough visibility with just broken water that I could still see them if they were in the skinnier water. I'm sure just out of eyesight they were looking at me laughing as I peered into the one-way mirror of the water's surface. It was about that time, another time where you might want to scroll down, that my lone Aussie Bite from the day before came knocking.
So the side scan in my cone of vision went from shallow water to my right to the high water mark debris field to my left. I was looking for bass, and a t-shirt, or a towel, or, a roll of toilet paper someone
might have left hanging on a tree branch. But I would have to settle for a Glad bag as a replacement for a few feet of Charmin Ultra Soft. It was quick. It was ugly. But I was relieved.
I was back on the hunt and confident that if I just kept walking and looking I would find them, or at least one. As the morning went on my need for having a tape measure waned. I was searching for any fish, not the monsters I had dreamed of in my head. They're there, we had seen them.
There was enough visibility just off the banks to keep me interested, confident, and well really just hopeful. The two Joe's were on the west side flat and I planned on walking over to see them. When I turned the corner from channel to pond it was like being a salmon trying to get upriver to spawn. Pictures don't do yesterday's wind justice.
Before I made my way around the pond I said to myself, "Let me be like the Joe's, and Leif". If you just set up the ladder and stand there, eventually, a fish has to swim by. I did that, for about 20 minutes before I couldn't take it anymore. The only fish I saw was earlier in the channel, two fish that were traveling the bank, one I got a shitty cast off to after the wind grabbed my line and carried it away.
It was then I decided that the I was done with the ladder. It has served me well for maybe 10 years? After seeing Abe enjoy the possibilities with it I decided to leave it there for him, tucked away in a secret spot for him to grab. I felt liberated not having to carry it around anymore.
It's now 518 am and I have a 630 ferry to catch so I won't be able to do the balance of the day justice here. Let's just say I went to the general area where the boys were, then back to West Basin, then back on the ladder, then over to the south side of the pond, where I caught the lee side of the wind, but saw no fish. Zero. Zilch. Nada. It was over.
I got a text from Abe telling us to stop by "The Shed", which is Abe's workplace for the last 10 years. It's a place near and dear to his heart and a place where so many of his amazing pieces have been created.
We headed back Down- Island and after a quick dinner we were off to fish one last evening. We spent some time in the wind yet again and didn't see any signs of life. It was okay, I was done, and I was happy. I was also beat up a bit, long days, lots of wader walking, standing on ladder rungs, and just a few hours of sleep each night.
