“Ugh! I feel drowsy. I slept way too many hours.” After getting home Saturday morning at 5am and only sleeping three hours because I had to go to the yard, my body and brain were fried. By 3:30pm yesterday, I struggled to keep my eyes open. My body simply was shutting down. By 4:30pm I was lights out and didn’t wake up until 6:30am this morning. But damn if I didn’t sleep too much. I was loopy this morning.
The sky was overcast this morning. No doubt more thunderstorms on the way. “Sheesh! It’s wild how often we’re getting them.” I was reluctant to hit the water and go fishing, because of that. “Who are you trying to kid? You knew you’d end up fishing anyway. Haha, true.”
By 7:30am I was out the door with my fishing gear and on my way to the store for my usual three Monster Ultras. “Seriously, dude, you really don’t need to keep repeating your morning routine every time. It never changes. I’m pretty sure everyone gets it by now. Yeah, but it adds to my total word count when I write. Wow, I can’t believe I am having this conversation with myself.”
First, I made my way upriver to some holes I’ve frequented in the past. First spinner up an all copper color. Cast number one, no luck…. Cast number four, no luck. I then tied on a silver blade and body lure. First cast, no luck but did see a couple of fishing tailing it. fifth cast, no luck. “Damn! well, okay. I’ll try somewhere else, I guess.”
I don’t know why but decided to drive about thirty miles away to Lee Metcalf Preserve. I mean it’s not like there wasn’t thirty miles of river I could have tried between here and there and could have saved myself a trip.
“Sweet! I’m the only one in the parking lot. Maybe the Sunday crowd is still babysitting a hangover or are all at church.”
I made my way to the spot where I caught that 16″ pikeminnow a couple of weeks back. “Damn! I forgot my bug juice. and these skeeters are already bad. Whatever! I’m already here let me try.” Still rigged with the lure from the place I left, I cast into the pool I caught the pikeminnow at. First cast… FISHON! “Get away from me you damn mosquitos.” It was extremely frustrating and irritating trying to land a fish while swatting skeeters. Eventually I landed a really nice 17-18″ Brown trout. “Damn! That’s a nice one.” After releasing it, I cast out a couple more times, but the skeeters were so bad I couldn’t bear it anymore, so I left. Yes, the little demonic blood suckers beat me, but I managed to catch a nice Brown.
