Life Lessons and Fishing

Life experience vs. Fishing  

(Based loosely on Jerry Wilber’s article  …there’s more to fishing than fishing)

 Have you heard the saying, “There is no such thing as a bad day of fishing?” I believe the premise to be nearly entirely true.  Even if in your grand aspirations, you suffer through an occasional broken rod trip, lost stringer, sunburned face, leg-filled horsefly bites, or grumpy outboard that won’t turn over.         

This however is basically a story about life and fly-fishing for smallmouth bass, that some, if not all can make a connection with, even if you have never layed hands on a fly rod.  It goes as follows.   

There are a pair of college buddies home for the summer.  They are football players by trade and the apples of many a 20 year old–something ladies eyes.  Handsome, muscular, confident… I believe the young folks today call it SWAG.   Well anyway, they catch my attention between games while umpiring a doubleheader at the Plum City Blues Tournament.  I hear them say that they would rather fly-fish for river run smallmouth than you know what.  

As Jerry Wilber once said, ‘Knowledge is the cement that holds ones life together,’ and I figure I know a thing or two about smallmouth bass and fly rods.  My knowledge of you know what, is likely behind the times, so I ask them to join me in the Green Lund the day after school gets out.  They giggle, but agree and shoot the question, “ Do you need us to bring you a fly rod?”

I scoff, trying to display my 40 something year old SWAG, “No thanks…I have three or four of my own.”   That is the truth by the way.

                                                                 

So I take the boys  6 or 7 miles up the Chippewa, to likely looking stretch of old riprap, undercut banks, and logjams that I know should hold some pudgy bronze backs.  I mostly keep the Green Lund pointed upstream while back drifting in the June breeze and sunshine.  The water is a bit stained from  the recent downpours, so the lures of choice are dark colored popping bugs and a combination of brown sinking streamers and purple and black leech imitations.  The boys land 3 fish each before I get on the board with a chunky 17 incher, who goes completely air-born to slam my popper.  We are having a grand old time and the college boys seemed impressed at my skills in boat handling, net minding, picture taking, and even bass bug casting.  They even invite me to join them on their home river the week after next.

   

                                                     

I figure it is then time to launch the second phase of my plan, so I ask them what they could tell me about you know what. The one in the front tilted his head to the east, much like a lab puppy does when he hears a strange whistling sound.  The fellow in the middle just shook his head and went silent for the last 3 miles of the drift. Apparently fishing tips on a river are fine to be shared, but when you know what is concerned, it’s every man for himself.    I am currently in the process of rebuilding my SWAG.

-TGI