My friend Ashley asked me to take her fishing early one morning. She’d never been fishing before the sun came up it seems. I worked til midnight on Friday night. Being a systems admin is not always the glorious sitting around being awesome job I make it seem like. The plans for being on the water before day break got pushed back to day break and then to it’s pretty damned close to sunrise, I’m amazed I’m out of bed and functioning at this hour. My wife later commented that night after I got home that it might have been the first time she’s ever heard me groan and complain about going fishing early. I actually hit the snooze button two or three times. That’s a first. I’m usually shooting out of bed and out the door before the bed is cool. Little does my wife know I internalize those groans as my aches and pains remind me I’m not getting younger.
We hit a local creek for smallmouth and whatever else was biting. We’re not picky. I picked up one nice smallie right away and thought it was going to be a day full of bronze love. Sadly it wasn’t to be. We cast everything we had. Well, I did. Ash used a popper all day. Three or four of them to be exact. White with purple marabou tail. It’s her fly. I threw it all. Crawfish patterns hopped on the bottom, streamers swung, streamers ripped, and poppers popped. Not a damn thing after that first smallmouth on the white rabbit zonker streamer. I thought I knew what I was doing. Turns out all I know is that I don’t know nothing. Ashley picked up a small rock bass and a panfish while I sat on the bank cussing at my knots. We hiked back to the truck around noon and called it a day.
I gotta say, Ashley is progressing very quickly. She’s throwing perfect casts across the water when she doesn’t false cast more than twice. That third time loves to eat a cast. My hope is soon she’ll be out fishing me, which if this trip is the marker for most fish, she’s already done. Size doesn’t matter I guess.