Sunday, June 13, 2010

Day of Days.



The dogs and I were awoken by a phone call at 5 am and I instantly knew that I had overslept my alarm. I didn't have to look at who was calling me either but I answered anyway. I was tired and groggy from a brief nap while Adam was wide awake from a sleepless night at the vice engineering the outings new mouse trap. He was already at the canal. I got out of bed, put my contacts into crusty red eyes, grabbed my gear, and made the half hour trip in twenty minutes. Arriving, Adam had decided not to wait for me so I grabbed everything and booked it out and into the fray.

Engaged.

The Old Escape Between The Legs...

Oh...Fudge.

The Creature From the Black Lagoon.

Never Give Up.

Turning the corner, Adam was in full hunting mode. He was even sporting hunting camo. I said hello and made a cheap joke about my whereabouts but he didn't respond. Like Kobe Bryant ignoring Chris Rock on the sidelines of the NBA Finals, Adam was not about to be distracted from the task at hand. The pinnacle of carping. The elusive golden bones of the canal. We didn't speak or pay any attention to each other for the first hour. We happened to stumble upon active carp in the wee hours of the morning and there were plenty of opportunities for the both of us. The first words uttered were a profound, loud, and proud "YEA BABY," as a massive boil erupted on the glassy surface of the placid dark water. I had hooked into a nice slab of gold amidst all the debris, glare, and poison ivy.

First Canal Slab.

Broken Favorite Rod <>

Tail.

All Focus.

The Scene: Fog, Glare, & Rods Bent to the Cork.

Death Rolls.

Boils Get the Heart Pounding.

After awhile, I realized that this was my opportunity to land my first canal carp. I had thwarted all the fish's maneuvers and was now faced with the difficult task of landing a carp in deep water with no place for a safe beaching. It took several attempts before I finally orchestrated an attempt that I felt comfortable enough to put my rod down. As I did this, the carp had a second wind and bolted between my legs. I simultaneously grabbed my rod and lifted my legs over the screeching leader and fly line before my seven pound test broke under all the stress. The line was saved but in all the calamity my favorite fly rod took one last bow before snapping clean in half. I simply looked up at it before grabbing my leader and refocusing on the task at hand. I wasn't about to let a broken rod ruin my first canal carp. I landed the brute which was about an average fish for the canal but still a very large slab.

They Go One Way, You Go the Other.

Emerging.

Hauling.

A Big Scoop.

Golden Ghosts.

As I went back to the truck to re-arm, it was Adam's turn to get back to work. The minor respite re-energized his tired mind and before long, he too echoed his signature, "THERE HE IS," as a monstrosity blitzed across the canal. Adam deftly eased in the golden ghost with his five weight and 4x tippet before cradling her in the water for the two of us to admire. A little while later we both missed several more fish. It was truly a day of days to be out on the canal. It was an early morning on a holiday weekend. It was overcast and drizzly. The carp were a little off guard creating several chances that otherwise would never happen.


Carp Face.

The Best Part: Watching Them Disappear.

Weaponry.

A Whole Lot of Green.

Admiring the Bend.

Guests.

He is Excited. She is Shocked.

Yea Baby.

Gold.

The Day of Days.

The third carp of the day was also the largest. I switched out rods with the only other one I had with me. The good ole switch rod. I hooked the next one after carefully stalking several mud plumes mere feet offshore. I waited several minutes before the carp ascended in the water column enough for me to finally see her. I had to carefully time the ascension and wait for the bubbles to stop before placing my cast. The fly had to be in the water and descending as the carp emerged out of the mud cloud. She did and my unweighted damsel parachuted two feet in front of her face. She meandered over changing her course only a few degrees before sucking in the mouse trap. The water erupted and my heart began pounding. Sight fishing is the best. Sight fishing for fish measured in pounds rather than inches is even better.


2 comments:

Bigerrfish said...

Dang! Even I got a little Rush from that story!!!! saaweet!

Alex Landeen said...

Awesome.

I got the 'golden cold shoulder' a few times this afternoon. Nice to see others doing well.