Sometimes it was only one, but when I talked to my fishing buddies, I could boast about the outing. That is no longer true because the last time I went, I got skunked (caught no fish).
It was my intention to get the polecat off me this week and start a new fish catching streak. On Wednesday I had free time in the afternoon so I loaded up my gear and headed out.
I arrived just after 2 p.m. and as I put on my waders and gathered my stuff from the truck, two guys were finished fishing and coming back to their truck parked next to me.
When I asked if they had any luck, one guy told me they hadn’t caught anything. The other guy was muttering to himself and about every third word was one that would have gotten his mouth washed out with soap had he said it around my mama.
Come to think of it, I think he was twitching a little and listing to starboard as he walked around their truck. I probably should have taken that as a sign, but sometimes I'm such an optimist. I was on a mission to find my Mojo and catch a trout.
There was a light breeze out of the west rustling burnt orange, and golden leaves in the oak and hickory trees by the river. The sun was warm and it felt good to be on the water.
About the third cast, a gust of what felt like a gale force wind caught my fly in mid-cast and launched it like a kite, turning my line into a rats nest.
I tried for about 10 minutes to untangle the mess, but I finally cut it off and tied on new leader.
It probably wouldn't have been so bad, but I could see trout all around me. One came very close to swimming between my legs. I started to stomp it but I figured that my brethren at Trout Unlimited would take a dim view of that method of landing trout.
I continued to throw every kind of fly that I had in my box at them and I didn't get so much as a bump on my line.
The water boiled up all around my fly. The trout seemed to be moving my fly out of the way to get at mosquitos or some other kind of tiny bug.
After about an hour of this, my mind began to drift to uncharted territory. I remembered that I'd passed crews working on the highway just at the turnoff to the river and I wondered if there were explosives in any of those construction trucks.
Mr. Trout, since you aren't interested in any of my flies, how about a taste of dynamite!!!
At the end of the day, I dejectedly headed back to the truck. I realized as I took off my waders that I was muttering to myself.
Maybe I've lost my fishing Mojo for good.