Fishing the fly waters today, I dug my cleats into a spot that allowed me to fish for about 20 min working the shortest cast I can make out to the longest with nice slow swings on each repetition. I fished it well, but alas didn't elicit anything that even a reasonably talented exaggerator like myself could pass off as a tug. All good, I started to turn and burn to the car so I could drive up to the next beat. That's where things went wrong. I'm old enough that 'digging in' for 20 min leaves the lower extremities in a less than nimble state; all stoved up is how my brother used to describe it. The hips turned, the thighs got the message, but neurons ceased to fire or care from there down. I wound up taking a full-on, waders filling, fleece jacket drenching face-plant. I got up, made sure no one was watching. made a few amends for some surly language that somehow escaped my lips and realized I was in OK shape. I was only knee deep and less than 3min from the car that had dry clothes and warm coffee in it. That's when I saw my rod about a foot under the surface floating downstream. Somehow I managed to stop it's progress with my wading staff and stab my already soaked arm far enough out to just catch the lower grip and bring the rig back to hand.
I was maybe a few seconds from a situation where this post would have been titled: lost in the North Umpqua fly waters: SageX 8130 with new Hardy Bougle, contact me for reward. Gotta be mindful out there. I won't wade deep or wonder too far from the car in winter. Now I need some sort of memory catalyst to take a minute and make sure the extremities are all working after that last cast and swing.
I have a tradition of buying a bottle at the Trading Post when I catch a fly waters steelie. I gave myself a Mulligan today and grabbed a bottle of Buffalo Trace whiskey as a consolation prize-- medicinal purposes only.
I was maybe a few seconds from a situation where this post would have been titled: lost in the North Umpqua fly waters: SageX 8130 with new Hardy Bougle, contact me for reward. Gotta be mindful out there. I won't wade deep or wonder too far from the car in winter. Now I need some sort of memory catalyst to take a minute and make sure the extremities are all working after that last cast and swing.
I have a tradition of buying a bottle at the Trading Post when I catch a fly waters steelie. I gave myself a Mulligan today and grabbed a bottle of Buffalo Trace whiskey as a consolation prize-- medicinal purposes only.
