Did you ever have one of those days when you no sooner sat down to rest your weary feet when you had to get up again? Man, the other day it seemed like I was in and out all day long. I finally relented and decided to lie down on the couch to take a nap. I was dogged tired and well, that seemed like the best idea at that moment.
I was just at the point of the start of a very strange cat-chasing dream when my fishing buddy came home from work and wanted to head up to the river for some fishing. I didn’t really mind getting roused from my spot on the couch or from that cat dream for that matter, as I firmly believe that there is only one thing better than a late afternoon nap and that is spending time on the river.
My partner quickly changed from those uncomfortable work clothes into a pair of jeans and a well worn t-shirt. It didn’t take long for the fishing gear to get packed up into the car since most of the stuff is already there for all the spontaneous summer fishing trips that are surely going to happen this year. I was also up and ready to go and with great anticipation we started the usual drive to the river. I just love the drive to the river. The car windows were wide open, the warm pre-summer breeze sweeping through my hair while at the same time we listened to Bruce Springsteen on the XM Radio.
As with any fishing trip the topic of where to fish always comes up. I sat very quietly and listened with great intent as different locations were brought up. For some reason this always seems to be the hardest part of the trip. I don’t quite understand why this is such a tough decision to make but it ranks right up there with deciding what’s for dinner – steak or chicken. Eventually the fishing plan came to fruition. We would start high up on the river and then fish our way down. I certainly didn’t raise any objections to this plan, as it didn’t really matter to me where we fished that afternoon. Each trip I make to the river is like some great adventure. I just never know what I can scare up from under the bushes or what smells I will detect wafting in the wind.
Even I have to admit that the fishing was pretty slow that afternoon. At one point I was on a sandy piece of shoreline watching as my fishin’ buddy tried some different flies, all to no avail. The fish would come up and nose the freshly tied #10 stimulator or the #12 caddis or the tandem wet flies but there were never any firm takers.
You should know that I am, by nature, a nervous type of soul. It seems that I am always on the look out for the welfare of others close by me and I am particularly fond of my fishing buddy who will, in my opinion, venture too far out. Sometimes I think my buddy doesn't have the common sense that God gave ditch water. So there I am, tied up on shore for a spell when I see that my buddy has decided to wade out into deeper water. Eventually I felt duty bound to head out into that cold, cold water in hopes of getting my buddy to do an about-face for shallower depths. I worked my way out far enough that the water had reached my belly and I was actually thinking about doing the dog paddle when my buddy turned around.
Whew! What luck! Can you say relief? I quickly turned around and took the lead and without saying a word, the two of us headed back to the safety of shallow water. I quickly made it to shore with that cold river water still clinging to my legs. My buddy could not believe that I had ventured out into the deep and unknown water. It was very unlike me to tread that far out into the water especially without the use of a wading stick but I think my buddy was particularly happy that I was just doing my job.
We fished for a couple more hours. By this time I was starting to get hungry and the sand that had accumulated between my toes was starting to bother me. The fish weren’t cooperating much so we eventually headed back to the car. I quickly jumped into the back seat of the car and stretched out on the pad and closed my eyes. I was once again dogged tired and couldn’t wait to get home.
My buddy changed out of her fishing gear, gave me a pat on the head and promised me we would get ‘em next time. I slept all the way home and was glad when I could finally climb back up on that couch to finish that cat-chasing dream I had started earlier.
And there you have it folks. Just another perspective of fishing from me, Cleo, part Border Collie part Greyhound, aka man’s best friend. Or in this case, Mary’s fishing buddy.