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Dream Catcher

Late April 2018

The ice on the bog crackled under my boots.

I hurried.  I was excited.  Yesterday I had only caught 3 fish but 2 were measured in feet (as in more than 2…) and the 3rd was a fat 22-23 inches.  All beautiful browns.  The wily ones.  The ones we dream about.

I had been working hard.  Figuring out where and when they were willing to eat my streamer in the high dirty water.  I had been crushing it with nymph rigs but i wanted that tight line grab—swinging or stripping.  I wanted to tempt Mister Big Brown Trout to come out swinging and I was dialing it in.  Getting closer.  The tape on my burned stripping fingers testified.

I kind of wished I had a client here to put him on a fish of a lifetime.  But, I  was alone.  I like to fish alone, to hike or paddle through the bent lines, to utter no word, to see no other human animal, non verbal communication.

I was heading for a spot.  A specific spot I had fished yesterday.  I wondered if the fish was still there.  I threw in here and there on the hike in but i knew it was a little early and I didn’t try very hard.   I wanted to time it just right.  I knew i would likely only have one chance.

Yesterday I had brought the Trucha almost to my feet.  A Big fish.  As you know I had caught several big fish that day to compare it to… (not to diminish my earlier participants.).  He had appeared out of nowhere just as i was ending my retrieve and almost to cast again, slashed at the fly and i promptly yanked it away from him.

Truthfully, he scared me!  My heart pounded and I swore. (Verbally). I immediately began to parse through my brain, scheming on what was the best next move.  In retrospect, after seeing many of these big fish eat again immediately given the chance, I should have slapped it right back at him.  It works, sometimes…This fish had seen me though I’m quite sure.  I slunk back from the edge and waited for an appropriate interval (?).

I tied on a different colored streamer and said a prayer.  I cast quartering up and threw a mend to get it down, perfect.  I came tight to the bug just as i imagined it was about 2 feet (a good number) in front of where I imagined him to be.  A big bright yellow flash lit up the water where all this imagining had happed.  I held my breath and kept stripping but there was no weight…

My heart sank… but then I laughed.  What a privilege!  And now I know where he lives…

Fishing Buddies

My clients were two old friends. Buddies since college, they had lived in the same city for more than 30 years. From the constant stream of inside jokes and semi-raunchy stories it was clear they had shared a lot of life

Schooled

On the 90-minute drive home we talked the whole way. Fishing, college plans, girls, next hunting season, video games. We never even turned on the radio.

A Guide’s Life

I get to meet interesting new people every day, float down a river I love, share my knowledge and passion of the sport with others, and see beautiful stuff like otters and sun rises and crap. But there are down sides to it as well. It’s work.