April 6, 2009


After fishing a certain stillwater for the third time this year, I thought I was going to get that nasty smell off my back. First cast, Wham!, down goes my indicator! But I missed. That would be the first and last strike of the day. About an hour of flailing in the wind without any glimpse of hope, I headed back to the truck.
I still had about an hour of light, so I decided to hit a stream on the way home. But to my dismay, what was once a fisherman's easements is now a tangle of barbed wire and "No Trespassing" signs. There was still one hole within public access for me to try.
As I walked to the water's edge, something caught my eye. It was four Rio tippet spools lying on the bank under a branch. Some poor sap must have had the misfortune of dropping it. They aren't in the best shape; most likely rotten. But I'll clean the spools up and hopefully have some back-up tippet in case of an emergency. Although I caught a few decent browns on this water earlier in the season, my luck didn't last.

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