It’s 1 am. Pitch black. And you can’t see a damn thing.
It’s hard not to turn on your headlight, but if you do its game over. It really is amazing how well you can cast when you cant see. You lay down what feels like the perfect cast and start to twitch the hell out of the tip of you rod.
All you have for reference is the sound of the fly skating across the water. Just when you think the drift is over an explosion at the end of your line. And nothing. He missed… Or maybe you botched it. You strip in the slack and as the fly reaches your feet he’s back. And hes hungry. It’s a mix between a toilet flushing and a cinder block being thrown in the water and it’s scary.
The fight is on. Before it’s even over you want more.
Go ahead and forget sleeping. Just knowing you could be out throwing junk like that makes it even harder to fall asleep at night.
Flies the size of your hand and 20 lbs test Maxima. Its like a grind-house version of fly fishing. It’s too easy to get addicted too. Dark circles under your eyes, bugs bites everywhere, bruises from falling, and now leeches. You have to pay to play.
Bringing one fish to hand is a good night. But when the one fish looks like that… It’s okay.
The next time we look like we are dragging in the morning you can guess why.