A bad day on the water
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Is there such a thing as a bad day out fishing? Damn straight there is!
We had a forecast for rain, lots of rain for the next couple of days, so with time on our hands with the festive holidays, it was logical to get out for a fish before the rivers were blown. Sven made the 2 hour drive to join me and we visited a nice gentle stream with easy access. I broke my ankle about 2 months ago, so easy terrain is good therapy.
When we arrived at the river, there was occasional rain and not a breath of wind. Fantastic conditions to flex the 4wt Sage TXL-F I had borrowed off Simon Chu for a while. I’ve fished it a couple of times now, and was relishing the opportunity ahead of me. The strategy was to head downstream and fish our way back upstream to the car.
The river had suffered somewhat after some big flood events over the last couple of summers. There used to be some fantastic fish holding runs which were now clogged with finer agregate. As we walked downstream I was beginning to get a bad feeling about the day, and was running “Plan B’s” through my mind. After a half hour walk, Sven set up to fish the first run while I rattled off a few frames. There was no response, and so we moved upstream.
Before we waded across to the next pool ahead, the rain really started to belt down. It was nescessary to make adjustments to wet weather gear and make sure the DSLR was nice and cosy down the front of the raincoat. Sven started to fish the pool, and when his backcast hooked some streamside vegetation I moved to unhook him. It was then that I realised the rod, still in it’s sock and safe and securely tucked under my arm, no longer was! Where the (deleted) was it!
I backtracked, with an increasing feeling of impending disaster, mind racing, but with a glimmer of hope. I scoured the far bank re-tracing my steps, but no sign of the rod. It dawned on me that I must have dropped it in the river while I crossed, and given the fact the TXL-F is feather light and made up of hollow tubes and cork, must have floated off downstream. Sven joined in the search, and together we scoured the river, the bank, all the trees and back eddies for the next 2 or 3 km downstream. Not a big river, clear water and slow gradient, but still no trace of the rod.
From there we fished, and searched our way back upstream. There was the occasional fish feeding happily, but not on any of our offerings. We spooked fish, we lost flies, we missed strikes, but we fished on with the hope of coming across the rod as we moved back upstream.
It was an uneasy feeling passing the point where I first realised the rod was gone. The point of hope abandoned. I consoled myself that there are worse things that can happen, and at least a rod is replacable, but I was not in a happy place for the rest of the day. Not a great way to finish the year!
Sven managed to fool a fish, and hang on to it till net time. A great feeling to have something go right for once.
Once again, sorry Simon :-[
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