3:30! (Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard a school bell ring.) I grabbed my attaché, gave my boss a quick wave and headed for door. “I hope no one wants to talk to me on my way out, cause there’s not a chance in hell I’m stopping to chat!” I thought. It was time to fish!
Last year I was loner when it came to fishing. More times than not, I found myself fishing alone on Wednesdays as the other Average Joes always seemed to have more important things to do. Well, when you’re a third generation trout fisherman, a trout fisherman who, like his father and his father before him, spent more time on the rivers, streams and creeks than most people, there isn’t much that is more important than fishing. Besides, there is peace and comfort to be had when fishing alone. It is amazing to me how I am able to discover more about myself while fishing five to six hours than I can working a forty hour week. With that being said, I still would rather fish with one of the few people I choose to call “friend.”
So far this trout season I have been very fortunate to have fished only once or twice by myself and this past Wednesday was no different, although we did get off to a slower start than usual thanks to Scott being late. I had planned, when he pulled into my driveway, to tell him that it was too late to head out since our fishing time was already limited. Fear of him throwing the car into reverse and heading north without me prevented me from trying to joke around however. During the drive, Scott asked the question that someone always asks when headed to an area that has several A+ trout streams… “Where do you want to fish?”
Don’t let the seeming simplicity of that question fool you. At face value the question seems harmless. It only has six words in it after all. The fact of the matter is, that particular question comes with an enormous amount of pressure because, while Scott and I enjoy fishing, we love to CATCH fish. So you can understand how neither one of us take that question lightly. We discuss the effects of weather, traffic patterns and degree of difficulty to access before landing upon a decision. I, however, being the friend that I am, turned it right back around on Scott by saying, “You don’t get to fish as often as I do, so why don’t you choose?” I had pulled the pin and tossed the grenade. I followed up by saying, “Keep in mind that, if the fishing sucks, it’s your fault for picking the wrong stretch, but no pressure.” That’s right! I said it… because that’s what friends do!
Scott chose a stream that was wide enough for us to fish side-by-side. Arriving at our destination we quickly geared up and started to fish. Within the first few casts Scott caught a small brown trout, followed by another. I too started catching fish right away. Over the next four hours we caught several fish. The best of the evening being a fourteen inch, beautifully colored brown, that I caught. Upon landing and releasing the trout, I quickly pointed out that it was I who caught the largest trout of the trip. Scott smiled and proceeded to keep fishing. I mentioned that it was starting to get dark and that we should head back to the vehicle. Scott kept fishing. Right at dark, Scott placed an excellent cast right along an undercut bank. One turn of the reel, his spinner started to turn and then… chaos. A large brown trout, after grabbing his spinner, exploded out of the water, not once, but three times. Scott was vastly outclassed by the large fish, not by his skills, but the ultra-light gear he had in hand. After what seemed like an eternity, Scott held the trout as I put a tape measure to it… sixteen inches. “Now we can go,” Scott said as he smiled at me, his smile saying, “Eat that Carter!”
In the end, Scott chose wisely.
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