Monday. Missouri River. May.
Monday. Missouri River. May.
Great words from John G in the comments yesterday. Long time Mo River angler fishing along with friends and family this past week on the river. Was not able to hook up with the fellas, but did enjoy John's words from his recent river experiences.
I sit quietly on a bank with no agenda nor to do list.
Perfect words. Combine them with the thought of rising trout. The possible glimpse. Yes, that was a fish. Oh, now I see you. You are brown in color and feisty in flavor.And, then you wait. And watch.No rush. The fish is feeding.The angler that rushes in, that does not value the experience, the entire experience, may miss the greater meaning of the moment.Waiting. Watching. Becoming emotionally closer to the cast, the fish, the moment. Enveloping your entire being.
Enjoying the communion of the Missouri River. The communion of the moment.
Inspired this spring by many components. The dry fly fishing has been sick! The fish are cooperating, most of the time. The emerging insects. The fellowship of anglers. The conversations of great dry fly years gone buy, the fantasy of good hatches in front of us. Words by friends. The smiles of memories of sun setting leaving the waters shaded, darker, grey. Rise forms. Trout that could not be fooled. The anticipation of another chance, another cast, hopeful days ahead.All have got me all jazzed up. Filled with emotion and excitement. Equal parts of each.We are so fortunate to be here on the banks of the Mo. All of us. I am grateful for this fishing life. So, very, thankful.And we arrive to this Monday, in May, on the Missouri River.Spoke with a couple cats who have been dry fly fishing here since the late 80's on Sunday. Spoke about Pat Elam, Chris and Jerry of the Trout Shop. Pat was the 1st. Chris came next. Jerry as the 3rd. Pat died. Chris and Jerry continued. Spoke about Larry Tarmelli and his fishing pal Sandy. Big Al Raines. Johnny Glass. A couple other Tri-Staters. Ron Soden and Alan Roberts. Stan Stavich. The Barranco family. Tom B. visits often. Mark LeGrande and Tom Bramble. More wonderful anglers I cannot remember, unfortunately. Lizzy and Jim Range. Some of those guys still around. Others have passed. The memories of those who have cast before us still make an impact on me. Honor those humans/individuals, remember them. Smile.Spent time yesterday in the casting lane @ HH of Craig with a test line. Cast with a couple staff at the shop. A few visitors from Calgary/Bow River guys. Bamboo rod makers. Spoke about proper line match and the joy it brings when the match, is perfect. Reminisced about the RIO Windcutter fly line. Double Tapers. Mucilin. Cast some more. Cast with Peter, a guide, a student of the game. I enjoy talking about fly lines. How they work. What rods they fit well on/with. The perfect match. Fly lines can change the personality of any given rod. That is fun. That is what makes this game so very entertaining.A perfect match for everyone and anyone. And, 3 anglers, can enjoy 3 very different fly lines, on the same rod. That is fun. That is fly fishing. That is what makes the experience individual. The joys derived from varied avenues in this many faced multi-faceted pastime.Watched relatively new anglers line up rods, don waders, and head to the water. Not knowing what will happen, moving toward an unveiling of wonder, untied by the fascination of nature, the river, moving water.Been thinking a lot about line design, how lines interface with rods, and how anglers combine the two to create magic. Occasionally manifesting in brilliance.Seeking to repeat that feeling as the body and mind unite while the line unrolls in front of me.The rod will only do what you tell it to do. I continually keep that thought in the front of my head. The human on the cork end controls the outcome. Confidence and control come only come from comfort of the rod in hand. 1000's, or 10's of 1000's of hours with the rod in hand.So, the practice rod in the garage in the winter(s)...truly matters.Meandering of SOL's brain today on the HH blog. The rest of the day includes admin work. A bit of casting. Need to finish the '89 Williams Whirlwind pinball full resto and playfield swap so I can put my boat in the garage. The organization of rods, the re-lining of fly reels with new fly lines, the dream of rising trout, the slow creaking of the boat as she settles on anchor, the glance downstream witnessing concentric rings emanating from trout sipping near the waters surface... Happy Monday. If you feel the pressure of that world out there, remember to take a moment for yourself. A reset of sorts. Sit calmly in your chair. Close your eyes. Let the imaginary sun warm your face. Let your ears hear trout lips kissing the surface. Let the concentric rise forms pass through you cleansing your being.Monday. Missouri River. May.