Wednesday, May 13
River Temperature Beer and Bugs
I haven't really had time to write, or at least made time to write. Instead here's a list of reasons I am chronically and hopelessly addicted to chasing bugs:
-it's not nymphing
-checking the weather and barometer every 10 minutes during the day
-seriously...it's not nymphing
-hastily tying a few more patterns before I head out for the night
-the elation of finding bugs...followed by the devastation of watching them disappear into the trees
-sitting on the bank for an hour or two by myself, eyes to the sky.
-sitting on the bank for an hour or two with someone else of questionable sanity, talking about
nothing and everything.
-the chance to catch fish above my skill level
-river temperature beer
-the assumption that yes, I'm going fishing tonight unless otherwise explicitly stated
-peppermint schnapps out of a flask
-the regret of drinking peppermint schnapps
-swearing to never drink peppermint schnapps on the river again
-an extreme lack of focus at work characterized by minutes of actual work, 10 minutes of reading and planning for the night, 2 minutes of work, an hour of reading and planning for the night...
-trying to catch suspended mayflies when they refuse to fall to the river
-deciding to become an entomologist
-deciding that I really don't care what the exact bugs are, I should just do my best to imitate them. All you need is an Adams or Borchers, really...right?
-deciding that I HAVE to know what the exact bugs are if I am to catch a fish. Amateurs use Adams
-mousing or throwing streamers back to the Jeep if the bugs don't show up...sometimes...but mostly giving up on them...because it's DRY FLY SEASON DAMN IT
-showing up at the river, even when you know conditions aren't right...because just maybe
-the unexplainable feelings that accompany seeing that first bug on the water
-wondering if you picked the right stretch of river
-changing locations, only to go back to the original spot after 15 minutes at the new spot
-wondering if mayflies taste good
-not casting to the little fish, or even the bigger fish, because you have become such a snobby douche...normally this phenomenon happens later in the bug season
-the inability to hold a normal conversation
-immediately becoming suspicious of anyone who asks if you've "been fishing much" or dares to ask "how the fishing's been."
-an eventual immunity to mosquitoes and the ability to tie a flawless knot regardless of the fact that there are 100 mosquitos per square inch on your hands.
-being able to fish every night without the guilt of missing out on time with the kids because they are already in bed.
-missing out on time with the kids because...based on temps/river conditions/barometric pressure/moon phase/water temps/farmers almanac/an old man's whisperings/gut feelings/male to female bug ratio...what if the bugs fall early?!?! I should check the barometer again.
-questioning my sanity becomes a regular thing
-having days or even weeks go by without seeing a single fish rise
-spending countless hours on the river for what often times amounts to a 10 minute fishing window
-promising to try a new spot, only to find myself parked at THE spot later that night
-deciding to take tomorrow night off and finding myself on the river...again
-carrying bear spray after close encounters and being pretty certain that it will just make you taste better
-knowing the local beavers by name
-driving as fast as possible to the river...so I have longer to wait
Not infrequently I have to ask myself if this kind of behavior is acceptable...am I losing my last tenuous grip on reality?
There's a good chance, had I decided to put this effort into med school, I'd be a doctor by now, but who wants those kind of hours!
Chase contentment, chase bugs
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