Life experience vs. Fishing
(Based loosely on Jerry Wilber’s article …there’s more to fishing than fishing)
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.
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