Don’t get me wrong, I truly enjoy catching big fish on a fly rod.
In years past I’ve labored to join the 20-20 club on more than one occasion, greedily measured girthy rainbows on the Missouri, learned a few tricks with a camera to make ‘em look really, really hefty in the image and pounded honey holes in the fall for piggish browns.
Big reds on lighter gear are a hoot and I wish all to hell that I’d of chased some of the big stripers on the Guadalupe with Winston and friends while down in Texas.
Tarpon in Belize and big bones (Christmas Island and Hawaii – met a guy recently who chases hefty bones there) are high on list as are roosters, jacks and dorado in Baja. If cards are played well all of those might be possible in the next twelve months in fact.
Swinging flies for steelhead here in the northwest is a foregone conclusion given recent events (more on that tomorrow most likely).
That said, the attractiveness of a spunky, dumb-as-a-post 6 inch native cutt, brilliant brookie or gaudy panfish on light tackle might just, at least on some days, outweigh them all.
Because big isn’t always better.
