Ouch. Too much work...too many responsibilities. This whole 'adult thing' is not what it's cracked up to be. And bills. Who the hell invented these things? As I've been slaving away at my projects to earn money to...pay bills (imagine that), it occurred to me that, if there weren't any bills, I wouldn't need to work.
Ergo, more time to fish, hang out with my son, or just sit on the couch and watch College Football while inappropriately scratching myself every ten minutes or so.
I know - those brief moments of brilliance are scary, aren't they?
So...trying to juggle tight deadlines, spending quality time with my son, while trying to get him ready for the new school year, I've come to the conclusion that I need a different clock - one with say, 36 hours in the day, instead of the old-fashioned 24 hours that is so yesterday.
And that new clock would also allow a little more wiggle-room for fishing. Which is totally cool, because I need my river time, otherwise, I'd end up on the front page of the Denver Post (read: not good).
But, since I am a loser and don't have a 36 hour clock, I need to make due with what I've got...and what I 'gots' were a few windows of fishing opportunity that just happened to present themselves over the past few weeks.
Actually, I lied. They didn't just 'present' themselves all conveniently like a stripper popping out of cake. No, I made them happen by bending the space/time continuum with my well-worn MEGA flat-head screwdriver (aka Hammish) that I use for everything but screwing (Yes, I realize how wrong that sounds. Freaks).
Originally designed for maintenance on military aircraft, it's a lunker and far too big for every-day-around-the-house screwing (stop it). So instead, I've focused it's powers for my own personal gain.
Impacted molar? Hammish is also an amateur DDS. Tristan stuck in the duct-work again? Step aside and let Hammish handle that. Bank tacked on another senseless fee? Hammish thrives on righting a wrong.
As you can see, there isn't much Hammish can't do - including the ability to bend the very fabric of our existence, when needed.
So a while back, before my life became measured in bechmarks, deadlines and outlandish requests, I had tied up some old-school Pheasant Tails and some Killer Bugs, and I was eager to try them out on the river...which I did, (thanks Hammish!).
Flows, however, were up that day, so the PTs didn't quite earn the Belle of the Ball label. The Killer Bugs, however, were able to pull a few fish, which makes sense, given the conditions. Ultimately, though, it was the worms that did all the work. And work they did.
There were a lot of big fish in the water that day, and I lost a lot of them. I'm starting to think that I might be 'big fish challenged' given how they always kick my ass. Especially this year - I've lost a lot of big fish in 2010.
I can stick 'em, I just can't seem to get them to net as of late.
The biggest of the day was a beautiful, active 25 inch-ish Rainbow. Solid. Healthy. And it was a clean, fair set, but after a little teasing and fighting, he broke me off.
A couple more in the 20 inch-ish range...also gone.
So anyway, the day was great - the fishing was awesome, and I got to play some mighty big fish. I'll take it.
Now, every year, my son and I go camping - it's our special weekend to get away, ride, enjoy some 'fire food' and deal with free-range cattle that keep you up all night.
This is also the one time of year I get to go Hulk with my chain-saw on all of the dead-fall...which appeases the reptilian part of my gray-matter.
We also manage a little fishing (duh)...on the Taylor, which is my favorite stretch of water. Period.
The sheer number of fish in this section of the river never ceases to amaze me. And the sizes are off the charts. If there is a Heaven (or Hell, depending on your experience there) for me, this would be a possibility of what it might look like.
Minus the crowds, of course, and maybe throw in Kate Beckinsdale just for good measure.
When I die, I've requested that my ashes be thrown haphazardly around the place, so if you want to keep me from coming home with you, I'd suggest you keep your dog from rolling around in the dirt and clean your boots thoroughly after my ticket gets punched.
Now, for those that are familiar with this water, you know how tough it can be to nail some of those fish. 'Technical Water' is a term you hear quite a bit in regards to the Taylor.
While I have my own theories, the fact remains that it does seem to be tough to hook the fish there - so I helped Tristan with his cast, drift and set, and together, we managed about a handful of the slower 'D-student' fish in the C&R section.
After my son had had his fill, and his attention turned to digging in the bank on the side of the river, it was time for the old man to put the smack-down on some fatties.
And these larger fish aren't going to fall for a #18 Black Mamba or Zebra like their less-than-stellar smaller kin - oh noooo. In the past, I've had great luck with the BDSP on this water - but I was out, so those were not an option.
Enter Plan B, which should actually still be the original Plan A, since I normally go this route anyway on this river - but I went smaller. Much smaller. In the #24-#26 range.
Nothing fancy - just simple little thread midges in olive, red, white and black. And I scored pay dirt. While there were some 'normal' fish, in the 15-18 range, there were also three rather large fish - all well over 20 inches - that fell for my delectable mini-treats.
And, since I'm not one to break precedence, I decided to snap two of them off just to keep with this year's theme ("Hook Big Fish - Lose Big Fish 2010").
But I did manage to net a sweet brown.
Now, normally, I would be peeved to have lost the two larger mules - since coming to the Taylor is all about sticking the slabs - but earlier in the year, over the Memorial Day weekend, I hooked and landed (I shudder to think what price I'll have to pay for that miracle) a nice 28 inch-ish Bow, so my monster quest for 2010 has already been filled.
Anything above and beyond that, now, is just a little bonus thrown my way by the Fish Gods. Last year at this time, I was desperately running the two-minute drill to get my yearly 'white whale'...and barely eeked one through the uprights in the closing seconds of the 4th to win the game.
No worries like that this year - I can put this baby to sleep knowing I hit my quota back in May. Granted, babies wiggle and toss and make all sorts of noises when they're playing grab-ass with the Sandman...so another Taylor run isn't totally out of the question before the pass is closed.
But on the docket now, is an un-hurried trip to the Canyon in the next few days, followed by a return visit the following weekend when Bigerrfish makes his way out here.
In the meantime, I'm going to try and find a 36 hour clock on eBay.