Sunday, October 28, 2012
Saturday, October 27, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
The water was low and clear and not as warm as what the sun on my neck suggested it could be. And the carp were spooky and not as stoked about a presumably easy to catch meal as I hoped. Not at first, anyway. But as the morning progressed and turned into the afternoon the sun warmed the water and the cold-blooded carp enough to boost their appetites and lube them up socially a bit. Like a generous swig from the Stranahan's bottle. Which...as I write this now (glancing out the window at a pile of snow) sounds really, really good.
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
The suspect is described as a white male, approximately 5’9”, thin build, sandy or brown hair and late teens to late 30s in age. The second victim described the suspect as not having facial hair, but the first victim described him as having a thin beard and mustache.
The vehicle used in these incidents is described as a royal blue – similar to the blue worn by the University of Kentucky – 4-door sedan, possibly from the mid 90s. It may have dents on the passenger side rear door and may have half of the rear wheels covered with a "skirt" similar to those seen on a 1996 Cadillac Deville.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Two more times that morning I would have similar experiences. All in tight to the cattails. All completely unexpected. All explosive and viscous. And, for whatever reasons, I could not hook or hang onto the fish. I would stop only to break ice from my guides that were impairing my ability to retrieve line, and to try to warm my hands. My back was aching from being hunched over, shivering...and I had burned two nasty, bleeding grooves into my right middle finger from gripping the line too tight as I stripped in line, cast after cast. My hand being too numb to feel the damage I was causing myself. Eventually I haul an errant cast deep into the cattails and break off my entire leader in the temper tantrum that ensues. But not before I hit Erin's fly rod with a sloppy back cast and break two inches off the end of her 7-weight. Oh, shit...my bad!
I tuck back into a sunny spot in the cattails and do my best to re-rig a new leader and fly. Relinquishing the lead to Erin, who has been following me down the weed line. Can you manage to still cast that without the tip? She nods and bombs a cast past me and dunks her fly right where I was hoping she would...and a pike attacks immediately! We are both too cold to properly celebrate so we take a quick photo of the pikes head peering out of the inky, smooth water and shiver and smile at each other. But I learn my place and let Erin take point. And I follow her...hand on the camera and pride hanging back on some random cattail stalk. And once the sun comes up we warm our hands and get some better photos. So, yeah...go team!