The World According to Carp Bad luck, or no luck a all, accompanies ...

Tag : rolled bronze
Gary donned waders, and I slipped on old sweat pants, expecting theday to be a scorcher and the water to be warm.

Gary gave me three San Juan worm flies tied on about a No. 8 or 10barbless hook with a bead head. He also added a tough, 8-pound testtippet to extend my leader to about 10 feet long.

He rigged up a 10-weight fly rod.

I used a 9-weight steelhead rod.

We both used floating line.

I expected the short-legged Nora to follow along the bank as wewaded (and she did when possible).

We walked 100 yards from the car and pushed through thick bushes tothe river.

“The water is a lot higher than I expected,” Gary said.“And it’s not as clear.”

Would that hurt fishing? Would my usual crappy luck on the riverhex us?

Surely not!

Well, with water ankle-deep, Nora stepped in up her belly beforemoving back to the narrow, rocky shore.

Gary explained that when we spotted one of the three-foot longfish, we should present the fly in front of it and watch carefully.

“You don’t really feel the fish take the fly,” hesaid. “Just strip the line in easy until you feel resistance.

“I’ve had them run halfway across the Columbia,”he added.

We waded downriver for close to a mile in knee- to buttock-deepwater.

I spotted an occasional fish, but Gary saw 10 to my one. I blamedthe glare and dingy water.

One fish slipped silently between us that would go 30 pounds, Garysaid.

He said that carp, or bonefish, nuzzled the zillion pock-marks Isaw in the sand, yet we didn’t see the usual large number offish.

We did see pelicans, however, and I took photos of them.

I cast at several fish (dark, slow moving) and got nothing.

I also kept an eye on Nora, who cavorted along the rocky shore.Once she found a tennis ball for a small diversion.

Once she waded toward me, but turned back when water reached herchin.

Twice she whimpered, and I went to carry her around impassablebushes.

Finally, with Nora under my arm and halfway along an extensivestretch of bushes, I turned back.

Then, with Gary nearly out of sight downstream, I spotted a fish 20yards away between me and the shore (and three feet from thecavoring Nora).

It snuffled at gravel in eight inches of water. I followed it andcast 40 times in front of its nose as it moved upstream.

Finally, it turned toward me, and I hooked it.

Whoa! It ripped toward mid-river. The 100 feet of fly line strippedfrom the Medalist reel in an instant.

Backing zipped away, almost to the end.

When the fish stopped, I leaned back and bent the rod. For 15minutes I reeled in line inches at a time.

Finally, Gary arrived and saw the leviathan rolling at my feet.

It had bronze, thumbnail-sized scales and a face that’sdifficult to praise.

Gary took my camera for a photo to prove my angling prowess.

Alas, I had the lens on manual focus and forgot to tell him, whichreminds me of Gary’s story about the man whose doctor gavehim a pill to improve his memory.

But, shucks, I forgot the punch line.

Anyway, Gary snapped some fuzzy photos while I unhooked the fish tolet it go.

And he politely didn’t point out that I’d hooked it inthe dorsal fin.

Ah, well, at least I caught one, and it weighed more thanNora’s 10.3 pounds.

We fished for another hour, and each of us missed fish that wecould have hooked.

I missed one by snapping up the rod and pulling the fly out of itsmouth, I missed another one by lifting the line just before thefish took the fly.

I felt sad that my fabled hex kept Gary from catching his usualdozen fish.

Yet, his good nature remained intact until the still-damp Noracrawled onto his lap for the drive home.

Then he wrinkled his nose, rolled down his window and said,“Nora rolled in a dead fish.”

“Yuk, she sure did,” I said.

I made my own face and rolled down my window as Gary plopped heronto my lap where she curled up and went to sleep.

I wonder who first concluded that bad luck is better than no luckat all?

Editor’s Note: Don Davis found an ice ax that he will returnto the owner. Call him at (509) 525-3300, ext. 294 to identify it.

For more information

If you’re interested in guided fishing trips or clinicscontact Red’s Fly Shop, P.O. Box 186 - 14694 Highway 821,Ellensburg, Wash., 98926, or call (509) 929-1802. Check the Website at www.redsflyshop,com or e-mail redsflyshop@yahoo.com


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