Bait on the Fly

Bait on the fly

I enjoy fly fishing immensely, in fact you might say I sort of live and breathe it. When I’m fly fishing I’m focused and singularly lost in the action and am alive as the ancestors must have been, existing moment by moment with little thought for future and holding onto experience only as a past.

Beats the hell out of mortgage, kids’ secondary education, and who keeps leaving the toilet paper roll empty? While we are at it, who left the lid on loose for the salad dressing anyway?!?!??

Life gets ‘interesting’ doesn't it? Guess what I’m saying is fishing sort of turns the world off and allows me to become one with the universe. As best I know how anyways.

This doesn't apply exclusively to fly fishing either; I am also a big sturgeon fisher living 10 minutes from a launch on the Fraser River. If you've never tried sturgeon fishing it’s much like (as a buddy described it once I’d gotten him hooked up a few times) latching onto a plow horse and having somebody slap it’s behind and holler “Giddy-up”. Then you try and stop it with rod and line with drag set tight enough to pull a large boat sideways in the current of the mighty Fraser.

Now there is a fishery that allows me to combine my love of both fishing the fly as well as dropping goo for the dinosaurs.

Pinks

OK, here is my take on pink salmon. I really enjoy them for the table but they have to be chrome for me to retain them. The answer to this comes in the Fraser River just outside my door. Before they reach fresh water in the brackish Fraser, the Pink Salmon are chrome as one could wish. Most males haven’t even gotten much of a hump early in the season while the females are still plump with roe.

My goal is to fish for a limit of these wonderful game fish with a fly rod, retain a couple of females hopefully, and use the roe and belly flaps to, you guessed it fish for sturgeon for the rest of the day. If I only bang males then heads, gills, tails and entrails of cleaned fish as well as any belly flap I prefer to remove.

Remember one must leave the waters and clean fish at home if they have to remove heads/tails of their catch as per regulation. This of course is for species ID if a Conservation Officer wants to review your catch and/or retention/quota(s). Roe of course can be removed and bagged up in nylon as soon as the fish are cleaned and deployed as sturgeon bait. One can also remove any belly flap (scissors work the best) and use that right on the hook – just leave the fish intact with regards to head and tail.

I enjoy Pink salmon fresh and baked on a BBQ or in the oven in tin foil. Many seem to like them smoked but myself I love them fresh from the river. Scaling, gill removal, and cleaning should take place as soon as the priest is deployed for the best table fare. Follow this by a really good packing with ice both in the body cavity and between/around individual fish, and your BBQ will be simmering with one of the best Pacific salmon for the table available.

Visibility is a very key part of salmon fly fishing in the “Muddy Fraser” and thankfully when the salmon enter the river this takes care of itself as the water will have dropped with all the snow fall of the previous winter having melted away. This is for the most part is true but be prepared for low visibility if any summer storms have recently blown through both the LML and/or the interior, this will colour up the waters but will clear quickly as better weather returns. It can take from a single day to return clarity, on up to a week, depending upon the size, length, and fury of any weather moving through. Keep an eye to the Weather Network for cues and clues – it really helps with planning for a successful outing.

As we are talking the tidal waters of the river, "tidal" should really be taken into consideration when planning an outing. No matter the species when tides are involved chances are the fish you are after will relate to that ebb and flow in a predictable manner which can in many cases give better odds of putting fish on the end of your line.
For salmon fishing in general high slack and an hour on either side is about the best time to be fishing. In the river the pinks seem to start milling around rather than swarming up river en-mass and as such seem to be far amicable to taking an offering. The hours or so before and after this can be good as well, of course getting better and poorer as the cycle comes and goes. The next best but far inferior time is low slack tide which again promotes the milling around behavior, just not as many fish make it up as with the push of the incoming tide and as such the percentage of you hooking up goes down proportionately.
Areas - historically the south side of the river sees the majority of the fish traffic and as such starting there is a good bet. Finding things like islands with shallow passages on the inside that reveal themselves with tide changes are good to stack fish in low tides and sand bars that appear in low tides can be great spots to target fish on incoming flood waters - the up coming bottom bunches migrating fish tighter losing it's depth and putting more fish in the top part of the water where the fly is most effective. The fly relies mostly upon sight. Fishing deep in 3' of vis is pretty much pointless in my opinion. 3' will give you a silhouette at about 6' down viewed from below is my estimation, after that it's a lost cause.
Fish moving and rolling fish. Fish areas you have caught them in before even if they aren't showing, showing isn't a rule. Pinks will move for a fly, especially if one of their buddies see it first numbers put things in your favor. This is true of most salmon and I say this a lot but when the quarry isn't feeding you must adapt and take advantage of it's other instincts like eating something for the simple reason your buddy wants it.

***
You will encounter First Nations and Commercial nets in the Fraser river depending upon openings. Please give them a wide berth and avoid anchoring up in drift zones. They are making a living on the river, you are out for pleasure - remember that and have respect for your fellow users.

It is also prudent to keep in mind the Mighty Fraser is also a working river, 7 days a week, 365 days a year and there are boats and barges of all sizes as well as log booms moving up and down the river towed and kept in check by tugs, some of incredible size. Don't be in the way be smart, keep your eyes open and yield to anything that is bigger than your craft.

***

For pink and most other salmon I prefer to use a 7wt fly rod though a 6 or even a 5 could and would do the job fine for pinks. Since I fish in a boat for the most part, lifting them to the net can be a problem over pulling them up into the shallows, in deeper water they just don’t seem to want to quit. In fact 2 years ago I broke my 6 wt figuring I could just lift one when I was ready and the fish was not – wrong. *snap*

For lines I use either a full slime line, or the 40+ combined with a beaded fly. These are personal preferences only as various sink tips in various weights will also have good success along with full sinkers. In the boat all lines apply while the slower sinkers can and are better from shore as the swing will take you into shallower water which is often full of stuff that will take the fly off your tippet if you let it come in too close or ‘hang down’ too long. 6 to 8’ of 6 to 10lb mono as a leader is all I’ve found needed, tapered and longer leaders just end up being a pain in the wind (and the ass) you often encounter in open water fishing. Flies I prefer (but not limit myself to) trout hooks as when the inevitable snag comes, and it will right when you are on the last pattern that seems to turn the trick with fish splashing and cavorting all around, a trout hook will tend to straighten and give you a chance to reshape it. That way you’ll be able to keep up with the partner.

Now pinks can and are caught by ‘bank maggots’ all the time and please don’t let having a boat or not keep you from fishing for them. They tend to move quite close in and will readily take a fly – even a couple of feet from shore. I have a boat and as such I use it, but I also have had stellar success from shore or off log booms.

*** Do NOT walk on log booms that are not firmly on the ground in a tide out situation, they can roll and have one falling between the logs or crush parts of your anatomy with water movement. The key IS to take care and watch for incoming tide which will have the logs floating and dangerous once more. Use CARE and CAUTION and if you are unsure, stay off of them entirely. The actual fact is they are private property and one can get fined for trespassing. ***

In my experience fly selection for this fishery is a bit different than one might think. I tend to lean towards smaller patterns in 10s and 12s. This is not to say you won’t have success with larger and bulkier patterns at all. Though confounding and slightly inexplicable in the limited visibility the Fraser affords, (1 to 3’) the smaller sparser patterns seem to be found and taken. How or why that is I couldn’t tell you, but sure as shootin’ if I’m having a good day it’s a smaller fly that’s taggin’ and baggin’ ‘em.

The kill pattern seems to reveal itself yearly (like most salmon fisheries each year brings what seems to be the killer for that species but often those flies seem to never work as good again??) but most of the patterns I lean towards have a base of silver in them and most salmon flies I tie tend to have silver beads. Mylar is a great material for a slim body.

Punctuate the silver with pink shades. I say punctuate because for my Fraser flies, dressing would be an over exaggeration. I’m not going to inundate you with fly patterns here, just sort of give you a feel for what has worked well for me. One that seems to work every year (and on pretty much all species) is the Gold and Silver pattern, it’s already in the Fly of the Month section of this blog.  There are various flies that have worked well over the years for me and they are all sparse, suggestive of colour, and have a hook in them. That’s it. Other patterns will work; bigger flies will too, some with long complicated recipes that require history lessons and 4 trips to the fly shop to recreate.

Mine don’t.

Have fun with this and check out “Bait on the Fly II” when I wrestle it out of this computer shortly here.

Randy

Competition Angling Preparation

Competition angling is a just a wee bit of a different morning over the regular type heading out for the day deal. For one thing you get up much earlier, if you are like me you had a tough job even getting to sleep the night before in the first place. You also got into the rack well after you meant to, because the evening over flowed with ‘things to do’ and if you are a mad man like myself, you probably fished the day before. In fact the morning of a competition usually (if you are serious about it) starts days and often weeks before you even set the alarm for event day with fly tying, technique honing, and of course either researching or prefishing the venue you are about to encounter.

Stuff like patterns you can’t live without being in the box when you show up riverside need replacing because you lost them that day, new leaders need be tied on, and the first fly choice for each rod tied on as well. Fly boxes must not only be full but organized, paring everything down until all that is needed for a fly change is a single box, possibly 2, to be accessed for short shopping list to go through. Nobody needs the head scratching hundreds of pattern choices give when literally seconds count.

In short you need to be ready, not only with your gear, but mentally as well. You need to have a game plan which should be determined through both prefishing as well as conferring with team mates (if applicable) to develop what should be your goals during your sessions. Of course putting fish in the net is the primary part but most often that comes with a set approach to each fishing opportunity which should be formed far before you get into the car that takes you to your first beat.

Each venue and piece of water within them is unique unto themselves. As such each will have a microcosm of its own nuances which fit a technique, the key is realizing which one applies ‘here’ and after that what the secondary as well as third option should be. Make no mistake, the fish targeted, forage available, should be the uppermost thoughts in your mind when choosing a technique. For instance if the fish are keying on bugs reason dictates a form of bug presentation would be more prudent for numbers of fish over stripping streamers. By the same token if one finds themselves on a long shallow glide section that is fairly shallow not much sense in pulling out anchor fly patterns (flies packed with lead and tungsten beads) and attempting to drift those unless you want a static presentation with your offerings lying on the bottom.

My preparations as I have begun to age go a little different than some I am sure, because I even try and regulate what I eat the evening before an event. You can see some difficulties should it be chili night at Aunt Martha’s the evening before, having 3 helpings so Aunt Martha doesn't think you dislike her cooking. Come competition morning there will be a reckoning to be paid, and probably for your fellow competitors as well as yourself if they happen to be downwind when you wade deeply and force the sealed contents of your foolish choices out the wader tops. There could be a wading safety issue as well, depending on wind strength vs holes in your breathables over the speed of water leaching into that left leg, again.

These days to guarantee my timely exit out the front door it’s strictly the 3 major food groups. Meat, some sort of  roughage, and cake. There is always room for cake and if there isn’t, you need to get some priorities. Not too much cake that night either. It’s rich and it’ll bung you up. Yet another night before rookie mistake in the making.

My morning routine is pretty standard I think amongst early risers. I tend to hit snooze a bit (and get hit by the wife proportionately) and so the night before I trick myself by setting the alarm ahead a half hour to compensate. However, I wake up much more sly that I think I am the evening before and take advantage of the extra time and hit snooze (and get hit by the wife) several times before getting up.

Then I snap awake realizing I have slept past the last snooze option and leap into action. (The wife tries to hit me again but I’ve already catapulted into action ha-ha!) I turn on the light and start flailing through the room looking for the clothes I laid out the night before – which are GONE.

“Where are my clothes” I’d seethed, under my breath.

“I folded them up nice for you out in hall” sleepily comes from the area of the bed which houses the lightening backhand, along with somewhere the love of my life.

I swear if something was ever where I left it it’d be lost because who would ever think to look for something where they left it anyway..?

On go the layers, socks, then long underwear, then the fleece pants, then tucking the cuffs in the heavy socks over top. Next is the poly pro undershirt, followed by a team shirt the top three buttons stylishly undone followed by a fleece over shirt. This will be followed by 3 more layers or not depending upon the time of year that consists of a hoody, a thermal jacket, and a rain shell. All of these garments will make the trip even if “I’m sure not to need them” because I’ve needed stuff I’ve not needed before. I also have on hand a toque and gloves with the flip over mitts because if I am wishing I had gloves it’s sure nice to have some when I do. Same goes double for the toque. They travel well, keep your noggin warm, and do wonders for your hair-do relaxing by the fire in the pub afterwards.

Before this of course I had already padded into the kitchen (kicking over the nice pile of clothes en route) and got the coffee going. This is a heady ritual in my house; the beans need be fresh ground and brewed very hot. Dark roast is king here served with half and half and brown sugar. Life is too short to drink shitty coffee. Dressed, I get the first cup and have a sip or 5 and check the weather network online to see how many layers need go under the waders. Next the rest of morning rituals play themselves out in a slightly fast forward manner because of the time. Things like forcing the remainder of the toothpaste to the business end (Why am I always doing this, don’t other people need any?), taking care of the business end (which goes smoothly see above notes on “dinner the night before”) and checking for more ear hair are accomplished tout sweet.

Making a thermos and grabbing my lunch, I turn to the last step before leaving the house – suiting up.

The gear assembled the evening before lays (thankfully) laid out where I left it. The fishing area is classified in a system only I understand so as to keep organizers away from helping me. It looks like a pile to the untrained eye, but it’s a model of efficiency to me.

Rods, vest, stripping basket, and gear all like ducks in a row, I squirm into the waders. I like to show up ready to rock, so I can lean lazily stream side watching others try to keep one foot dry while hopping into a wader leg. Gives me a small sense of superiority which might be a trifle small of me, sue me.

Wadered up and sagely not forgetting the jacket and rain shell, I shuffle out the door minding rod tips, while trying not to squeeze the bologna out of the 2 pieces of bread under my arm pit (because I am compelled to carry everything at once) I lay my eyes on the trusty Pathfinder ready to whisk me away, and it’s frozen solid.

Right, it was minus 5 out on the Weather Network.  I try the key in the lock, and there’s no in part to be had. Down go the collective rods, reels, basket, jackets, and thermos which helpfully lands on my sandwich aiding it along its path to resembling some sort of ethnic dish without olives encased in Zip-Loc.

Out comes the Bic lighter and the heated key slowly melts itself home in what became a key hole in the door. 378 wiggled turns later, the mechanism finally rolls to the right enough to grudgingly unlock.  Fearing the worst I pull the door open expecting the weather stripping to split or some fool thing but thankfully that is saved for another day. Car started, defrost deployed all around I stow the gear in the rear section and then jump in and try the washer fluid on the windshield and it promptly freezes thicker than it started out with.

I give the window a quick scrape and put my now halved Visa card back in my wallet. I think to myself I’ll report it ‘lost or stolen’ so I don’t have to explain to the lady in Tulsa with the Southern accent. What would she know about a frozen windshield anyway?

Finally I am on the road and off the property. Knowing I have all my gear, I can suffer without pretty much anything I left behind, after all I have the gloves and toque I’ll be warm if not nothing else. One last stop before the straight through drive to the venue, and that’s a large cup of coffee from 7-E. I’m a Starbucks fellow (coffee snob) but at 4 or 5AM and beggars can’t be choosers. Besides 7-E has pretty good coffee when you get it fresh and it’s a 50/50 chance its either fresh as can be or carve me a chunk this early.

20 oz, 5 cream, 4 brown sugars, stirred up, to the counter and whip out the…. wallet which is at home, still in the work jeans at the foot of the bed which coincidentally houses all my fishing licenses as well. DAMN!!! I tell the fellow at the counter I’ll be back, back into the Pathfinder; I wait at 2 traffic lights watching the concrete dry without any traffic on it on the way. Back into the house I go, rip into the bedroom throw on the lights, and grab the wallet. I’m out the door before the wife’s backhand hits the pillow where my head usually is, retracing my steps. Into 7-E I fly, pay for the coffee, get 2 cents less in change because a penny quit making cents and off to the races finally.

Somehow all the delays don’t usually add up to me being late but I sure can cut it close.

Like I said earlier, a lot of preparation goes into things before one even arrives at a competition. Not everybody realizes this and can make mistakes so it’s good to be a nice person and help others out when they get caught unprepared. Why that very day I was just describing I offered to share my sandwich with a fellow who forgot his. He declined and I ended up with it all to myself but I’m of a mind that it’s the thought that counts over all else. Besides I only had one spoon anyways.

Randy

The Stillwater Itch

So it’s first light and the fry hatch is in full swing and been going on for about 2 and a half months. My pal and I hit the water for cutthroat, the same water we hit last time, and not too many trips before that, a few times before…. and began to work line out in false casts that don’t dare touch the water.

To the left a boisterous boil erupts, throwing water mixed with 3 or 4 fry leaping for their lives, still swimming ‘away’ in terror. Before my back cast becomes a forward, my partner’s line covers it landing like spider web on a virgin’s soul. Had the chaser of them fry gone to the left, right, doubled back? It’s gin clear out there….. My cast lands to the opposite side, we have it surrounded.

Another boil erupts right between the fading rings, of our landed flies, and we begin to strip our personal best. I’m stripping sexy, soft and smooth, utilizing long slow continuous pulls punctuated by a sultry pause that just begged to be sucked on. My pattern is an immaculate deception of epoxy, natural, and synthetic confabulation that one can only declare, “It’s alive I tell you, ALIVE….” (a spray of spittle may or may not be included, depends on the company)

It’s a pretty wicked fly anyways and it’s worked well for the last while.

More than well actually

To cut the shit, we keep stripping, and nothing. 4 more fish roll and we cast to those we can reach and, nothing. A flurry of fry chasing action hits and we are getting our asses handed to us, I mean the fish are everywhere and they are just rolling and moving and we cannot buy a fish.  In fact at one point in 3 casts I had 2 fish jump over my fly, almost like it was in the way of what he was after, like if it had hands it would have thrust it aside.

“Too much food”, Randy said with a slow audible exhale putting his fly in the hook keeper. “This sucks, we need some Stillwater”.

Duck interlude, carry on

Randy’s always such a sensible soul, I think that’s probably why I like fishing with him best. Besides, those fry are going to run out pretty soon and in a few short weeks those fish will be begging me for a lopsided hare’s ear tied with my left hand.

Yeah, even that

I began fly fishing on lakes contrary to many who begin on the streams and rivers. This I think is why I can always get excited about trips to the interior despite the very fine fishing we manage to be blessed with here around home.

This year the first was a weekend jaunt early in April to one of the sure bets of open water and one Randy and I have had good success at in the past early season. It’s a typical seepage lake with 5 or 6 shallow areas along with some 60 to 70’ deep holes to allow fish to winter well for the most part. What this means to us as fishers is that we had a good chance of having bigger trout or at least a shot at one, and with still waters that’s all I require – good strong fighting fish with the chance at a big one. This will of course come right after I’ve consciously ignored a frayed or knotted tippet which will relieve me of the last fly that finally worked.

Our strategy was to find some moving fish (duh!) and see what was up. I have learned long ago that placing all your bets on a single horse just leads to either an every fly in the box tried tragedy, or a dry landing net or both. I seriously try to set out unwed to any particular method when I approach a fishery. Though spring time says; screams actually, chironomid the mood of the lake, fish and activity of insects dictate what will be the path to success. That and my trusty throat pump. All we need is a fish to get us started. Not too small either 14” or better for the pump, no squirts need apply. That’s feeding on something. Something we can match. Something that I have lots of and he don’t so he has to beg me for one or two patterns like last year with the olive micro leech with the gold bead. That was fun. In fact I was smiling when I typed that.

It was the typical spring thing where the water is flat like piss on a plate with no wind at all, the sky blue with a few clouds. Looked like an absolute perfect day ahead. We packed the rain gear. Like dogs that had their noses rubbed in pee we have learned well not to trust first impressions.

I still don't trust it

A tour of the lake showed us it was lower than last spring, low and clear. We wondered if the up shallow thing was going to be on considering the up shallow was now 2’ shallower than the year before judging by the water marks visible on the shore line. Moving around and not assuming anything is the first ‘rule’ we have developed taking care to poke around a bit before commitment, some probes around the pond.

We sounded fish out deep down in 40’ of water knowing if all else failed we could chuck type 7 lines and dredge some action up if we had to. After continuing up shallow as shallow as shallow was now, the wooded area showed the occasional fish in close to the fall down created by busy beavers along a shore line.

Since this was all the action we had seen the anchors simultaneously punched through the weeded bottom a scant 4’ below. A floating line a and ghost tip were chosen and our casts began to fan the water in pretty much a 360 degree area coverage of what we could reach with a keen eye towards the sticks and wood. The fish obviously were using it as cover from the flying hazards of above to get into the shallow water where all the bug action (hopefully) would go on.

After a time it was evident those fish were right in there and were pretty loathe to come out for very much, and a static approach was going to be the way to stay in the junk close for long enough to suck them in, so out came the indicators. It didn’t hurt that finally a few bugs were coming off, what looked to be 18s. We were right in the middle of switching up when this dude cruises in and anchors right behind us and chucks out an indicator. Before I can finish tying up he’s had a 4 lber and released another fish. On goes 18 green ribbed chromie and I lob it out there right next to a twig. I watch Randy cast and when I turn back the indicator is gone, raise the rod and a fish slips the hook.

One that didn't get away

That was the beginning of a really good rest of day with fish after fish taken one after another cast after cast. If you looked away, the float would be gone and often stripping in to recast for a better position resulted in fish. No really big fish excepting Randy had a really nice 3 pound chrome fish to hand the rest were from 12 to 17” and the area was dubbed the kiddie pool as we knew there were pods of much larger fish in this lake, we just had to find them.

The next day we hit it again and the weather was pretty much the same though forecast was to be even warmer. We fished in another area that we had caught larger fish in before but had observed no action at all the day previously such as detecting moving fish coupled with lack of production from a few casts taken by Randy as I hold and move the boat around. Looked and felt dead, seemed too shallow.

Saw a couple of bigger fish roll however, so we tossed out a couple of floats and Randy’s sort of swims away and down rather than tugs under the surface then a 3 lb bullet jumps 6’ in the air. Not bad for a first fish of the day! After a decent tug of war a nice fish comes to the boat and spits the hook. Cool!

Then it goes dead on us once more, clams up solid. The lure of a sure thing right across the lake tugs at us as minutes tick by on our last day fishing. Yep we ripped up them anchors and went back to the kiddie pool.

You know we caught some fish and had some action for the next 3 or 4 hours but the hatch never really did come off this time and the feeders were much fewer and further in between. After maybe a dozen fish each we’d had enough, and decided to pack it in as the Canucks were playing and we were going to catch it via AM on the way home. I said let’s give that other area a go on the way back. Agreed, we yanked up the leads and shot across the lake. My boat might not be much, but when you hammer it and get her up on plane she no longer touches the surface, she caresses it.

Pretty damn skinny

There’s a dude in there so we creep back past him deeper into the bay proper on idle. 50 yards away from him we drop our pyramids and cast towards the brush dotting the shore line. The wind was coming from every which way here swirling like a drunk, reeling first this way and then that. I have like this big belly of line between the rod tip and indicator so I flip this semi mend against the wind slowing the drift of the bobber for a few instants; it then swims into the wind and then goes down like a mini imitation of one of the barrels Quint spiked that big shark with in Jaws – it was just swimming down and away. Experience made me raise the rod in a slip strike allowing line to slide out between finger and cork even as I was driving the hook home and 6 lbs of solid trout began to try and see how much backing I might have on the spool. That’s what it’s about man, never knowing when or where it’s going to happen but latching onto a lunker is always a special moment.

We have a grand tussle the kyped male and I, with several runs involved including 2 right between the anchor ropes leaving me wondering here and there if a 5wt was a good choice from the weapon locker more than once.

This fish boated and released another cast handed me another fish over 4 lbs and a few more between 5 and 6. Randy wasn’t having much luck though he did get a nice chrome 2 lber and a couple of smaller fish besides, I just seemed to have the luck going on. At one point I said the Canucks can lose it without me the fishing was too good, but then it sort of shut off and it was indeed time to pack ‘er in.

Double header

You know we did this very same lake last year pretty much the very same day of the same month and it turned out to be a totally different fishing experience. Rather than chironomids being the order of things it was all about dragon flies and immature damsels. Not a single fish came to the wee bugs and they were tried numerous times. Rather than floating lines we used type 1s and 2s to ‘pop’ various imitations along the substrate very jig like using long casts. The fish would most often take as the beaded patterns settled back towards the bottom. This is how we started out the first day but seeing the fish activity – in this case right IN the cover dictated a different angle of approach to be in the game effectively so to speak. We could have caught a few fish keeping with what worked last year I’m sure, in fact Randy’s biggest fish of the outing came popping a leech but not to the degree we experienced I don’t think.

It was rather odd I thought suspending a pattern 2 and a half feet under and indicator fishing 3’ of water but when you get right down to it, it makes perfect sense for the criteria the fish laid out. Pulling anchor wasn’t much of a chore all weekend anyways.

Success is never guaranteed in anything worthwhile undertaking and the phrase nothing ventured nothing gained seems to have more and more personal appeal as time goes on in this pass time we call fishing along with life in general. Spring time in the interior is most certainly one of my favorite uncertainties in life. Only one thing I can be certain of; I’ll know on the way home how it was while I was there and wonder how it is doing without me while I’m not.

Some itches take more scratching than others I guess.