Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Fly fishing for the 165lb sucker

My Uncle and I tried fly fishing last weekend, and whoever says its a relaxing sport obviously hasn't tried it with us... I mean it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye... then it's a sport, so I can see where it's sport status comes from. But we were yellin' back and forth... at each other, at our lines, but mostly at the flying errant hooks.

I was momentarily disgusted when I thought he hollered "Betcha didn't catch a perch on your first cast!"... it was all okay though, because he'd said "birch". It started out well, at least I thought it did, I was getting my line at *least* 15 feet out in front of me... Then I caught the bush behind me. Four times. Followed by the cedar tree. Grampa Max chuckled, shook his head, made a couple suggestions then cast out his bobber, and leaned back against a tree to enjoy the entertainment.

That Cedar tree, over on the right there.
 I finally turned myself parallel to the shore, covering twice as much area right (fishing in front *and* behind myself) but who are we kidding, it was mostly to avoid stripping the trees. An added bonus was Don directly in my line of sight... especially when I saw him wading in, removing his soaking wet t-shirt?

Yep, that's right he fell in the lake, and because I'm sensitive like that I laughed... really hard! Immediately it subsided to nervous chuckles, as it occurred to me that karma was going to get  me. I mean I had already slipped a couple times...

You know that thought that as soon as you think it you'd better act on it? Like one of your guardian angels is yelling at you and it finally pierces your self-assured consciousness with a wedge of doubt. This was one of those thoughts. I reeled in, waded in and took off my shirt "just in case", waded back out and promptly fell in the lake.

Its a good thing our karmic balance was restored, I think it's the only reason we managed not to fall in the lake while trolling and fly fishing from the canoe... Even when we got the trout up to the side of the boat, *almost* in and it flipped off. We didn't have a net. That would have been more than a little bit interesting.

A sensible not-fly-fisherman (Little Cindy-Lou Who, who was no more than 6'2)