As Shane and I were driving back from a failed evening of carp fishing earlier this week, we decided that this year we wanted to have an epic day on the water. And I mean one of those days that lives in legend forever, the kind that we will still be talking about decades down the road.
This, of course, brought a round of laughter, as we have never had a really “good” day on the water. Sure, we always have a great time and enjoy fishing with each other. But it seems that when we do catch fish, its always one or the other of us. We never both have that elusive “great day”.
So this got us thinking. What would constitute a really legendary day of fishing? Think about it for a minute. Our ideal fishing day would go something like this:
The morning would dawn clear and calm. The drive out to the river would go smoothly, having filled the car up with gas that someone else payed for. We’d rig our rods as the suns rays first touched the water. Morning mayflies would be as thick as a Biblical plague and the trout would be greedily gobbling them up.
Not just any trout, but big trout. Nothing under 16 inches all day long. Every trout caught that day would be on a dry fly.
As the day wore on toward lunch, the mayflies would die down enough to justify taking a break. Lunch would be a bankside feast of fresh, thick sandwiches and cold beer. Ice cold beer, Salmonfly Honey Rye. After eating, a short nap in the shade would be in order.
The afternoon would be perfect. 75 degrees and just enough breeze to keep you cool but not enough to really ruffle the water. Upon waking, the air would be thick with a mix of caddis, stoneflies, hoppers, and a myriad mix of tasty goodies. The next few hours would be fish after fish after fish, picking and choosing the biggest ones from pods of feeding fish. Every cast would be accurate and every drift would be perfect and of course no fish would refuse a proffered fly.
As the light fades, we would walk back to the car, trying to count how many fish we had caught that day. We would lose track around 100. As we round the last bend of the river, we would see a broken down bus parked beside the car. It would be full of beautiful girls. (Shane said Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, but seriously, let’s keep it in the realm of possibility)
That would be an epic day.
That’s not too much to hope for, right?
(photo by Shane Rickert)
