Streamer Junkie

We crossed the river in the shallow riffles just below the pool once it seemed that he’d either caught all the bass there or they’d warned the rest. On the other side we started working our way up against the current, and now Carter seemed to be able to catch a bass almost anywhere he chose to cast next.

I’d never salmon fished before. I’ve got the famous Salmon River here in in NY less than an hour from home, but I’ve always avoided salmon season. Shoulder to shoulder fishermen and packed parking lots are not why I go to rivers, they’re in fact everything opposite. So it was very fitting that my first salmon encounters took place in one of the most remote places you could find in the U.S.

Standing in a river or on the front of a boat and casting a fly rod is like conducting an orchestra and all that you see before you, the water, the trees, and the sun and clouds in the sky, they’re your symphony.

I went out in the rain, I caught one nice brown two pools down from Dave’s house, then snuck up to his back door. In a steady, light rain I checked my knots, all of them, and then made my cast.

One of those times I thought I might have moved it with my fly, but I couldn’t be sure. Just like I couldn’t be sure that it was the biggest of them all because I hadn’t caught it. But not being able to catch a fish many times surely means it must be the biggest.

If you only carry one of something, say a lighter, then when it runs out of fuel, you’re done. Unless you have a second way of starting a fire, like matches. Then your two ways has become one, but you still have one.