Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Evening Hatch

Sunlight slips down, its amber glow through patchy woods across the stream, filtering the perfect light of dusk onto the water.  Time is slowly going, or standing still, I cannot tell which and I don't think about it too hard.  This business about it "flying when you're having fun" is only true when you are thinking about the fun you are having rather than actually just going about the business of having it.  And I am.  A calm, thoughtless, one with nature, kind of fun.  Close to God's fun if I had to place it.  But, hey, I don't have to place anything. I just have to stand here in this river and fish.  

Ploink.  A rise.  I had hoped for that.  Ploink.  Behind.  To the left.  Another.  Ploink.  Ploink.  The white, yellowish sheen of the large fluttering bugs that dance up and over the stream must be what I have come here for.  Sulphurs?  Ploink.  Yup, sulphurs.

I lose my breath, just for a second.  Swallow hard.  Calm now, man, choose the right fly.  Ploink, ploink, ploink.  They all look so similar in the fly box all of the sudden.  Concentrate.  Ploink.  How could all of these pale flies even be in here??  Settle.  Settle...  

Choose.  Now tie a good knot.  Getting tough to see.  Ploink, ploink, ploink...you get the idea.

There, across the stream under that overhanging limb, is the most consistent rise.  It'll demand a good drift across a couple of these currents.  Easy now...easy...and...Thwack.  Shhhuuup.  And the fly line is ripped up off of the water.  Novice.  Stupid.  

I shrug it off.  Breathe.  I address another rise.  A take.  Fish on.  Okay...I can do this.  Another cast, another fish.  Here we go.  Good choice on that fly, hey?  Little guys but they stoke the confidence.  

The last of the light is fading.  The chill in the air on the back of my neck after the first hot day of the season.  The place really comes alive now with an abundance of sound as sight slips softly away with the day.  The environment becomes something that I am no longer separate from. It shrouds my existence and welcomes me into it as an equal part.  I stand, watching.  Listening.  Calm.  

Back under the tree, the rise is back.  I try again.  The cast effortless, thoughtless.    

PLOINK!


Photo By: Nick Boehme
 

10 comments:

  1. "They all look so similar in the fly box all of the sudden." Oh man, so true... so so soooooo true.... Awesome post, you not only make me feel like I'm right there with you, but you REALLY make me want to fish. Keep it up!

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    1. Get out there and fish! Haha. Thanks, Mike!

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  2. nice read mike,looks like major bridge work there

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    1. Yes, Rich. Tough to 'spot burn' this one but with all of that "stuff of man" around me I still got lost in nature. Hope you are doing the same!

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  3. Great post- felt like I was there!

    And amazing photo, Nick. Love the sulphur flurries.

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    1. Thanks, Chris. Nick is really amazing with that camera and a helluva fisherman to boot!

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  4. You capture the wonderful frenzy of the evening rise, when trout are 'ploinking' left and right, and nothing else matters!

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    1. I'm glad to hear that from you, Walt. Thanks. Hope to hear more 'ploinks' soon!

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  5. This post was so awesome to read! I got a perfect picture of the scene in my head and the thoughts you were feeling. With a mayfly hatch on the east branch yesterday, I was looking in my fly box and was thinking the same thing you were thinking - all the same! Keep up the awesome style of writing - I am going to have to switch my writing style in this direction when I make my blog posts - I love it!

    Tight lines,
    Scott

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  6. Thanks so much, Scott. I'm glad you got to experience this! Glad that the writing took you back there. Thanks for stopping by!

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