Slinging Streamers In Solitude

It was thirty-eight degrees when I stepped out of the prairie schooner this morning to line my rod. At 7:15 this morning I arrived at the cow pen or horse corral or whatever it is on my way to the delayed harvest catch and release area on the upper end of Blue River. Today's trip would be only my third since this area's inception and only my second chance to actually fish it.

As I tied on the barb-less bugger I suddenly realized that I had dressed quite lightly for the early morning chill but figured the walk would warm me up a bit. I struck out.

Along the trail I begin noticing the planting fields that Matt and his crew have established. They are plowed areas that look to be planted in a winter grass....quite green actually. I passed one, then the second one, and as I strolled past the third something big and black caught the corner of my eye. My first thought was, "What's a cow doing up here?" However, it wasn't a cow...it was one big ass black wild hog. Now, when I say big ass hog I'm not exaggerating. This hog had to go three hundred pounds! I was about one hundred yards up trail from hog so I grabbed my camera wanting a "close-up" but I was as close as I dared to get. I snapped the picture and as I was looking at hog, hog was looking at me so I decided it was best to head up the trail. As I walked up trail, often turning to see where hog was, I kept watching for trees I could scale and I guarantee you there wasn't a single tree I couldn't scale in short order if ole hog had came my way. And...I would have scaled yon tree in world record time.

I've never been a hunter but if I ever start I'll hunt wild hogs. There are a load of them around this country and they absolutely tear up jack wherever they decide too.

As I continued to walk my hands started to sting some so I kept changing rod carrying hands and sticking my free hand inside my waders next to the ole beer paunch which I have come by quite honestly by purpose.

Another ten minutes or so I arrive at the Catch & Release Area proper. I am looking for a particular spot...one that Donny Carter had sent me a picture of a couple of days prior. After fumbling and stumbling around for thirty minutes or so I find that sweet spot and cast a line. I missed the first three, four, or five strikes but then land a fat and fiesty bow. I have to tell ya guys, these bows have shoulders. The highlight of my day would come with my third bow and this fellar was a golden. She was a beautiful little fish and as I tried to ease my camera out of the waders while holding the golden at the edge of the falls she slipped off that barb-less hook. Adieu pretty golden girl.

I would end up staying in the Catch & Release area about an hour and a half and manage a dozen or so healthy bows. The wind was as still as a mill pond early but as the forecasters predicted the Gods of blow raised their voices and the leaves started falling into the mirror of reflection they had dangled for so long. It was time for me to go.

I decided to go see Scotty and how he was motivating and then visit sweet Seventeen in the campground area. Upon arriving at Seventeen I was somewhat taken back because this is as poorly as I have ever seen this little pool. I saw outcrops of rocks that I had never seen before and took some pictures just so I could remember this particular experience. Shortly after wading into Seventeen it became apparent she was void of trout. With my sunglasses I could see every single pocket and pool and there simply wasn't any trout holding. It was almost noon and I decided to return home to await a better day to court Seventeen. Today was the first time visiting her since I lost my pal Smokey and he was heavy on my mind.

It was a good day. I was able to sling streamers in solitude at the Catch & Release and my entire time there I was the sole fisherman. I did meet three gentlemen from Texas on the way out and they asked, "How's the water upstream?" I simply replied, "You'll have fun."

I hope they did.