I’m blogging from Café Sarah’s in North Creek this Saturday noontime. I’m looking out on Main Street and it’s spring! Well, at least for today. The mind naturally runs to garden plans, fishing, and whitewater kayaking. Seeing as how I am a lover of quiet water paddling, I’m only meditating on whitewater kayaking, not contemplating doing it myself. That kind of thrill I don’t need in my life, not when I have spring skiing, backcountry bushwhacking, and horseback riding on my list of must-dos in the next few weeks.
Today finds me still recuperating from the trip east. I haven’t calmed down one iota from the week away. I jump when I hear the phone, find myself thinking about Uncle Connie and Mom a lot, and hope they’re doing better. According to my brother, Mom is still refusing to have a phone in her room, and without being able to further discuss it with her because of her lack of a phone, I guess I’ll have to keep my communications with her to the mail. At least Uncle Connie is a phone call away, and I can call him everyday.
About fishing: As I’ve mentioned before, my hikes to ponds in the backcountry have made me eager to spend time fishing for brook trout. Since then, I’ve been badgering everyone who might have useful information about trout fishing. My fishing research is yet another reason why the local bars have become such a draw. The night I returned home, I guess it was Thursday night, we went out to Black Mountain Lodge. Beside me sat a young man in his twenties wearing a baseball cap, an earring attached to his right earlobe. “Do you fish?” I asked. (A real dumb question, since every male over the age of three is a fishing nut around here.) That question immediately launched him on a discussion of his recent ice fishing adventures, which was not the direction I had been hoping to lead him.
I finally got him on to openwater trout and bass fishing, and it seems he and his buddies catch trout with just a regular rod and reel from their boats. According to several of my other sources, engaging in fly fishing marks one as an outsider, a flatlander. I’ve also learned that getting set up for fly fishing is expensive. There’s the hip boots, the gear, the flies, not to mention the cost of instruction. I’d love to try it, though. I don’t have a boat suitable for fishing in any month prior to June, when the pond and lake becomes less icy cold. Because I want to fish for trout in April and May, during the sport’s peak months, I’ve got to either fly fish or try a technique that my neighbor Ed told me about. What I would need for the latter: regular rod and reel, flies (which I would need to learn to tie on myself—this requires instruction, I understand), bits of worms, and a stocked creek or stream. He told me to lie on my stomach with my head right up to the water during the absolute worst of the black fly season, cast upstream, and wait.
All that I’d have to do after that is walk home with my catch and get Ken to clean the fish before I fry ‘em in butter after soaking them in a simple breadcrumbs and milk mixture. Incroyable.
Today finds me still recuperating from the trip east. I haven’t calmed down one iota from the week away. I jump when I hear the phone, find myself thinking about Uncle Connie and Mom a lot, and hope they’re doing better. According to my brother, Mom is still refusing to have a phone in her room, and without being able to further discuss it with her because of her lack of a phone, I guess I’ll have to keep my communications with her to the mail. At least Uncle Connie is a phone call away, and I can call him everyday.
About fishing: As I’ve mentioned before, my hikes to ponds in the backcountry have made me eager to spend time fishing for brook trout. Since then, I’ve been badgering everyone who might have useful information about trout fishing. My fishing research is yet another reason why the local bars have become such a draw. The night I returned home, I guess it was Thursday night, we went out to Black Mountain Lodge. Beside me sat a young man in his twenties wearing a baseball cap, an earring attached to his right earlobe. “Do you fish?” I asked. (A real dumb question, since every male over the age of three is a fishing nut around here.) That question immediately launched him on a discussion of his recent ice fishing adventures, which was not the direction I had been hoping to lead him.
I finally got him on to openwater trout and bass fishing, and it seems he and his buddies catch trout with just a regular rod and reel from their boats. According to several of my other sources, engaging in fly fishing marks one as an outsider, a flatlander. I’ve also learned that getting set up for fly fishing is expensive. There’s the hip boots, the gear, the flies, not to mention the cost of instruction. I’d love to try it, though. I don’t have a boat suitable for fishing in any month prior to June, when the pond and lake becomes less icy cold. Because I want to fish for trout in April and May, during the sport’s peak months, I’ve got to either fly fish or try a technique that my neighbor Ed told me about. What I would need for the latter: regular rod and reel, flies (which I would need to learn to tie on myself—this requires instruction, I understand), bits of worms, and a stocked creek or stream. He told me to lie on my stomach with my head right up to the water during the absolute worst of the black fly season, cast upstream, and wait.
All that I’d have to do after that is walk home with my catch and get Ken to clean the fish before I fry ‘em in butter after soaking them in a simple breadcrumbs and milk mixture. Incroyable.
1 Comments:
The most recent issue of our alumnae magazine states that students call it "Lulu." When I saw the photos and read the article in the fall edition, I shared your reaction and your values. Thanks for sharing.
Patt
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