But No Luck

Day 329: It has been many, many years since I did any fly-fishing. When my fishing buddy's health began to decline and it was no longer possible for him to hike into the alpine lakes or navigate streambanks while I waded among the slippery rocks, we shifted gears without really noticing, either sitting in a public area or dropping our lines from a locally popular bridge. My fly rods gravitated to the back of the closet and my vest collected spiders in its folds even though we still fished together once a week year-'round. Eventually, even that became too much for him and our piscatorial times together dwindled. I'm sure the fish were glad for the reprieve. And then after he passed away, it didn't feel right for me to fish alone despite that having been my preference before I met him. In fact, he'd been gone at least five years before I ever dropped a line in the water, and even then, it had a lure attached to it rather than a fly. I discovered I could troll from the kayak quite successfully, the time between my paddle strokes allowing a lure to drop and raise with a natural action. However, I prefer to catch and release. I'm not a big fan of fish, especially those which taste like they've been raised in a hatchery, so fishing was never really the sole purpose of a kayaking trip. Nor was it today, but something inspired me to put my good rod in the 'yak. I didn't catch any fish, but I was glad to see that my technique hasn't gotten too rusty, although it could use a lavish dose of polish.