Day Off: Christmas ’08
December 22, 2008 (The Warm Up)
Awake later than expected and groggily dig through my old fly-boxes from last holidays. Luckily there are several usable flies still clinging to the ragged walls of Styrofoam and I decide to hell with tying freshies, I’m going fishing. I grab leader, boots, new 5pc-8wt, reel, glasses, keys, and what all else and point the aging Toyota to the windward. The sun’s out but it’s blowing a hurricane from the NNE and it looks like tomorrow’s fishing will be tough. Somewhere in there tomorrow’s sport calls to confirm, asking how the fishing is. Yeah, like I know. I’ve been here less time than he has. But, that’s the deal with guiding: you never know anyways, so I swing par for the course and hazard a guess. Well, wind’s up but the clouds have cleared and we’ve got a good tide so I’m optimistic. This seems to answer… an answer, anyways.
First flat is all white caps and waves breaking. Further east at the final flat, having past a series of practically dry flats on the way, I find tailers. A couple schools. First few shots are rusty at best, and this flat is always tough. Low water, spooky fish. Touchy. I tie on the smallest little fly – just some fuzz and rubber legs – and drop it about 3 ft ahead of the school, maybe half dozen times. Every time except the last they turn before reaching it, zigzagging down the flat unpredictably. Then I see the wake, the almost imperceptible but thrilling follow before the fly gets pounded, line stops dead and I’m whoopin and hollerin like a Mexican on a bender.
Things are well, and all manner of things will be well: a nice 4, heck, call it a 5 pounder on the flats.
Tomorrow I’m going guiding.