I spent most of Sunday afternoon walking until I found fish-able spots. With limited potential to wade, I fished mostly from shore. With overhanging trees and dense brush, casting was a major challenge. I lost several flies to overhanging limbs as frustration mounted.
Eventually, I made my way down to a large pool where I saw another angler. We chatted briefly, and he politely let me fish below him. Over the next hour, I plied the water in front of me without a single bite. I rotated flies, changed depth, and adjusted weight. Nothing.
I felt the pressure mount when I turned upstream and saw the angler land a nice rainbow. I felt discouraged and was about to call it until I saw him leave. With nothing to lose, I moved up to his spot.
On my very first cast, my indicator dove under, and I tied into something big. With a great deal of patience, side pressure, and hastily-muttered prayers, I landed a beauty of a bow. It was consolation for what has so far been a tough month for me. With the limited time I’ve had lately, it felt great to put the heartache aside and celebrate a nice catch.
Over the next hour or so, I only managed a couple more takes and one more in the net. I didn’t care though. It honestly felt great just catching fish out of my comfort zone. Not every memorable day is a high-volume outing. Sometimes you have to struggle. I’m okay with that and, in retrospect, I’d rather pay my dues and become a better angler.