I met up with fellow Fullspeeder, Nelson, aka... Qtip.
We hiked and chucked spoons, hoping to find a steelhead or two.
Mojo was tainted... wind was rippin', rain was fallin' but the birds didn't seem to mind. They sang their sweet morning choruses and embraced the light-less air as if spring were in it...
The river was pretty empty at 0900... thanks to hangovers and church... Sunday mornings are always a good bet for solitude.
Aside from one other nut... there was just Nelson and myself...
I tried to offer up tips on working the spoon but wasn't really feeling it and so my conveyance of info was questionable... I ended up switching to braided line in order to adjust to the wind and my short (8'6") spinning rod and get a better feel.
We walked along and saw a spawner buck. I think we each had a few 'swallow-bites' (birds doinking the line). Last week I confused swifts for swallows. Today, what I first thought were Vaux's swifts... actually turned out to be swallows, violet-green and/or tree swallows.
I walked until I couldn't without a snorkel or a grappling hook and climbing rope...Just when I thought it was safe and solitary... two long-legged anglers appeared, in glaring white garb, far down the near bank. They sported long, yellow spears and stared at the water with rapt attention.
I got closer...
and closer...
They were as or more intent than I on 'hooking' a fish and didn't seem to mind my intrusion.
Again, wish I had the Nikon to better capture the GREAT in these great egrets...
'Papa-Razzi ' decided to put the camera away and allow each of us to get back on track with our similar missions...
I rifled my spoon across the river and into a pocket of water protected by rocks. The spoon thumped and my line went tight for 5 seconds and 2 head shakes and that would be the one and only hit I'd squander for the rest of the day...
Nelson reappeared and we tried our best to produce but produce we could not...
We packed out, hiked up on the levee and made our exit. I almost went home... but as is usually the case, I rationalized... "I'm already HERE... may as well fish a bit longer..."
The bit turned to a longer bit but I never again got bit... and soon, another buddy (Tony) showed up and we got to watch fish swim by and mostly ignore us and our shiny, colorful offerings...
We hiked and there was no steelhead love to be had. Tony left, I stayed, (Damn Joneser...) I got to hang with Warden, Winegarten for a bit and we discussed the sad state of our fisheries, the politics thereof, and other depressing topics....
I dropped my cigarettes in the water, reclaimed them, salvaged a few Marlboros by drying them on the not-so-wet-by-now rocks... fished some more, and more thoroughly rubbed 'skunk-salt' in my fish-less wounds for another hour...
I snapped a photo of the beautiful, panoramic, pre-sunset river scene
and went home wondering where the day went and why it went there so quickly?
Does it beat a bad day of work? I hear that line a lot and I'm not so convinced it's true... but nonetheless, I'm glad I didn't stay home. Nelson, it was nice to meet you and Tony, again, great seeing you on the river.
Humbly,
Mark
