Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Like Old Times
The sun is high, the wind strong, and the air cool and crisp. I am concentrating intently on the task at hand but the carp are way too smart and wary in the gin clear spring water to eat anything within the vicinity of my Diablo Chupacabra. A man drives by and rolls down his window to yell,
"The trout are at the mouth of the creek!"
He repeats it two more times, loudly. I gave him a subtle acknowledgement to thank him for his words of wisdom to help me in the pursuit of my quarry.
It has been four years since we found our carping grounds. In that time, the place has grown in popularity amongst both spin and fly anglers and is no longer a secret. It is quite well known and we are perfectly ok with that. Adam fishes there so frequently the locals know him by name. No longer do people ponder the guy with a rod and a ghillie suit prowling the banks. Even so, some people still stop to watch or wonder in amazement when the first golden ghost breaches the surface of the water. I don't fish there as much as I once did, but I probably should. The fish have grown along with our carping abilities. Fish that once averaged 6-8 pounds are now 14-16 pounders and some fish are in the twenties. I may have to join Adam in his element more often.