The sun shined bright and I'd bet there was a 10 degree difference in the air temp from standing in the sun or standing in the shade. The high for the day was to be in the upper part of the upper 50's.
I stood mid-stream casting a tube, a popper, and a buzz bait, all of which produced nothing. Not even a bite. I could feel cold water trickle down my left leg, slowly soaking my pants and filling my boot. For a short moment I could feel my toes push the envelope of numbness, but then my body temp heats the water that has entered my waders and all is good. Every now and then there would be a pretty strong breeze blowing down the river that would smacking me like a frieght train, and put thoughts of defeat in my head. So much so that I wanted to quit and run home to my nice warm blankie, cuddle up in my recliner, and watch old reruns of Davey and Goliath. But.... On this day Nov. 10th 2015, the day my United States Marine Corps is celebrating it's 240th birthday, I decide to be a Marine and stick it out. I tie on a suspended jerk bait, and I begin to cast.
The jerk bait wasn't working either and I decided that I wanted to try it in one more area before leaving for work. As I waded my way to the bank, trolling the jerk bait with some jerks and teitches, I got hit. The fish hit the jerk bait about three times with little pecks. I tried to set the hook but missed. Seemed like it was probably a little guy, but it was enough to get my blood flowing. I got to my new spot, that is littered with rocks, and began to cast the jerk bait. I made a long cast directly down stream and began working the plug back to me. It was probably about 7 to 10 feet in front of me (in my eddy) that the jerk bait got hit. This was a BIG hit. At first I thought maybe I snagged onto the top of a big rock, but then the rock pulled back hard and I knew that this was not a rock I was dealing with. I set the hook and the fish made a run downstream. As I fought his head around and began to reel him in, the back of the beast breaks the surface of the water, he swirls, he dives, he charges, and then an abupt stop. WTF!
I was kind of standing on a hump of rocks, to the left of me (bank side) the water depth is probably 3 feet, to the right it's deeper, probably 4 to 5 feet. The fish came to the right of me when it stopped. My line was still tight and I just stood there waiting to feel a tug. Nothing. Damn it! I didn't want to do it, but I kind of let up on the tension of my line to see if anything would happen. Nothing. Damn it, damn it, damn it!!! Laying along the declining edge of the hump I was standing on was a submerged tree branch. I waded as close as I felt safe, stuck my rod tip down in the water and retrieved my jerk bait, and went to work.
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Dear Brutus,
I know that was you at the end of my line, and you had best thank your lucky stars that you know that section of the river better than I.
Until we meet again.
~ Terry