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I was able to sneak out of work and hit my local waters seeking a quick pickerel bite to top off my day. As I walked towards my car, there were blue skies with lots of dramatic clouds whirling around. The winds had finally started to live up to the predictions and the dropping barometer was making an impactful visual statement.
Despite this, I was confident that I would be able to find protected waters to tuck into, in order to fish. I was soon on the river doing just that. The tide and the wind had the water higher than I have seen since the last hurricane and all my structure was submerged. I worked it anyway, but there was a ton of debris that had been blown into the river and was circulating throughout the water column.
Frustrated, I moved across the cove to be more in the lee, seeking cleaner water, but with less productive structure. As soon as I made the switch, I started catching fish. There were 3 in quick succession, all within the 17” to 19” range.
As I was feeling good about figuring out the bite, a strong front moved like a freight train as the sky transformed from bright and perky to dark and ominous. The outburst of rain and wind smashed into my boat with a violence that surprised me. I actually started hearing Dorothy singing about her “house starting to twitch” in my head as I assessed my new reality.
I quickly decided to call it a day and headed for home. Within minutes, however, the rain stopped as quickly as it started as the clouds split and the wind abated somewhat. I re-evaluated the situation and opted to stay out, but on the other side of the river as it offered more protection from the new wind direction.
I discovered even more debris in the water than at my original location and realized that fishing was over for the day.
The theatric performance that Mother Nature was presenting just kept getting better though. I took some time to appreciate it and simply sat and took it all in. The winds kept shifting and swirling around allowing me to not lift a paddle as it moved me back and forth within a small area.
The gusts chased each other over the surface of the water in a way that reminded me of Tchaikovsky’s mushroom dance from Fantasia. The effects were mesmerizing and hypnotic.
As if that weren’t enough, the visual display was incredible. I have always loved the effect of the low light commensurate with the season and it proved spectacular tonight. The layers of reds, purples and oranges just kept peeling away and made the tree tops appear to be on fire. Every direction I looked, I witnessed a different effect. The pictures below do not come close to doing it justice.
I just sat in my boat as I absorbed the feast for all my senses and smiled to myself. It just served to reinforce what I have spoken of before. My love of fishing is so much more than the thrill of setting the hook. It is being in place to witness the grandeur that is available to all who take the time to notice it. After spending the last decade (or more) with work blinders on, I feel like I have been given a wonderful gift. One that was there for the taking all along, but I forgot that I could.
Tight lines, all.
DSCN3777.jpgDSCN3778.jpgDSCN3779.jpgDSCN3782.jpgDSCN3783.jpgDSCN3786.jpgDSCN3787.jpgDSCN3788.jpgDSCN3789.jpg
Despite this, I was confident that I would be able to find protected waters to tuck into, in order to fish. I was soon on the river doing just that. The tide and the wind had the water higher than I have seen since the last hurricane and all my structure was submerged. I worked it anyway, but there was a ton of debris that had been blown into the river and was circulating throughout the water column.
Frustrated, I moved across the cove to be more in the lee, seeking cleaner water, but with less productive structure. As soon as I made the switch, I started catching fish. There were 3 in quick succession, all within the 17” to 19” range.
As I was feeling good about figuring out the bite, a strong front moved like a freight train as the sky transformed from bright and perky to dark and ominous. The outburst of rain and wind smashed into my boat with a violence that surprised me. I actually started hearing Dorothy singing about her “house starting to twitch” in my head as I assessed my new reality.
I quickly decided to call it a day and headed for home. Within minutes, however, the rain stopped as quickly as it started as the clouds split and the wind abated somewhat. I re-evaluated the situation and opted to stay out, but on the other side of the river as it offered more protection from the new wind direction.
I discovered even more debris in the water than at my original location and realized that fishing was over for the day.
The theatric performance that Mother Nature was presenting just kept getting better though. I took some time to appreciate it and simply sat and took it all in. The winds kept shifting and swirling around allowing me to not lift a paddle as it moved me back and forth within a small area.
The gusts chased each other over the surface of the water in a way that reminded me of Tchaikovsky’s mushroom dance from Fantasia. The effects were mesmerizing and hypnotic.
As if that weren’t enough, the visual display was incredible. I have always loved the effect of the low light commensurate with the season and it proved spectacular tonight. The layers of reds, purples and oranges just kept peeling away and made the tree tops appear to be on fire. Every direction I looked, I witnessed a different effect. The pictures below do not come close to doing it justice.
I just sat in my boat as I absorbed the feast for all my senses and smiled to myself. It just served to reinforce what I have spoken of before. My love of fishing is so much more than the thrill of setting the hook. It is being in place to witness the grandeur that is available to all who take the time to notice it. After spending the last decade (or more) with work blinders on, I feel like I have been given a wonderful gift. One that was there for the taking all along, but I forgot that I could.
Tight lines, all.
DSCN3777.jpgDSCN3778.jpgDSCN3779.jpgDSCN3782.jpgDSCN3783.jpgDSCN3786.jpgDSCN3787.jpgDSCN3788.jpgDSCN3789.jpg
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