I had a couple of options.
1. I could drive all the way home, get another reel and some flies and
drive all the way back to the dam. This
entire process could have taken anywhere from 30-45 minutes. In my opinion, that was too much time to
lose. 2. I could drive five minutes to
my school and grab an 8 weight rod that was donated to my fly fishing club,
grab a box of flies from a tackle box, and be back in 10-15 minutes. This at least SEEMED like a better option on
the surface so this is what I went with.
However, my buddies that I had called still hadn’t shown up yet and I
didn’t want them to think that I skipped out on them. I decided to wait in the parking lot that I
directed them to, and then head to my school.
Thankfully, Luke showed up shortly after arriving at my truck and I
shared with him what had happened. He
graciously offered to let me use one of his rods but I have a funny hang-up
about using other people’s fly rods out of the fear that I might break it and
have to replace a high dollar set-up.
That fear motivated me to head to my classroom instead.
I took some liberties with some speed limits between the dam
and my school…until I saw a police officer.
Then I backed it down to 5 over the speed limit and thanked my blessings
that I didn’t get pulled over. When I got
to my classroom, I was able to quickly locate a reel with 8 weight line…which
didn’t have any leader on it. I
frantically searched for some line but all I could find was 4 and 6 pound line
on a spool. This wasn’t going to
work. While flinging open cabinet doors
in my class, I found a spool of cheap 10 pound monofilament that I used for a
science project a couple of years ago.
This was going to have to do since I was in a pinch. I then went to the tackle box to locate the
olive green box of flies that I KNEW had some big streamers in it for
situations just like this one. I opened
the box, and it was missing. That’s when
the memory of putting said box in my black backpack that I always carry when I
fish (except for today) came rushing back to me. The next memory that flooded my brain was
that of setting the backpack down in my garage.
That’s it. There were no more
memories after that because that was the resting place of said backpack. That’s when I turned my attention to the
Rubbermaid bins on a bookshelf.
During the winter months, the fly fishing club that I
sponsor learns to tie flies that they can fish with in the spring. My eyes darted from box to box and I quickly
located a box titled “Hooks & Beads” a box titled “Hackle” and a box titled
“Rabbit”. I grabbed a vice and quickly
got to work slapping a streamer (The Brave) together so I could get back to the
dam. I’ve tied about 200 Braves in my
life so this one came together pretty quick.
I then fumbled with attaching a leader to the fly line and my set-up was
complete. I was back in the game. I was walking out the door when Austin
called. He said that he was standing on
the dam with his brother Hunter and Luke and that they had just tripled up on
wipers. It was as short conversation and
I took some more liberties with the speed limit and stop signs. I wonder if a cop would have believed that
stop signs look a lot like yield signs?
When I arrived at the dam, I quickly found Luke, Austin, and
Hunter. They were very appreciative for
my phone call and glad that they had shown up to fish. Everyone was happy and having a great
time. Luke was especially happy because
he had caught his biggest wiper/hybrid to date.
The picture speaks for itself, but just to be clear, this fish probably
went about 8 pounds.
Austin had caught a couple of “small” wipers that went about
3-4 pounds, but don’t feel too bad for him.
On Sunday evening, he caught an 8 pounder too. I too was able to get a little fishing in
on Sunday morning and put one more white bass in my hands to
cap the weekend.
As for Friday, the activity slowed as the sun sank in the
sky but the overall mood of the group was high and we shared a lot of
laughs. As we wondered to the east end
of the dam, it seemed like we were just walking and swapping stories rather
than heading to the next fishing spot.
The mood was light, everyone was laughing and smiling and all things in
the world were just…right. We made a few
more casts as it got darker and Hunter even landed one more white bass to
conclude the day. As we walked back to
our vehicles, we talked about coming back to the dam over the course of the
weekend. It seemed that everyone would
try to get out one more time but we couldn’t get our schedules to work out and
it became apparent that we would not be fishing together in the near
future. It kind of felt like a high
school graduation party. There was an
overall feeling of euphoria and satisfaction mixed with a small sadness that we
would not be reliving that moment anytime soon if ever. This has become one of my favorite fishing
memories and stories because of all of the events that unfolded but more so because
of the people that I was able to share it with.
While I WILL fish by myself, nothing beats sharing time on the water and
catching big fish with friends!
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