Sometimes the song we live, leaves little time left to give.
Lately, there has been little time for this angler to get to the water and the creek. As it is with this disposition I own I tend to be less happy, less fulfilled, and much less rosy when the creek and the fish elude me.
It can be argued that the key to dividing our time is through prioritizing. Prioritizing is easy for some, difficult for others and finding myself in the latter I often struggle with decisions regarding time.
It's not the amount of time fly fishing at any given time. I am well past the days of six or eight hour days on the water. What holds my fancy is a short hour or so each given day. I use this short portal of peace as a release mechanism where I can scour my soul of the busyness of the day.
This past Wednesday there was deep-seated ache within me - a longing for just a little time on the creek. A gnawing type of thing it was. It felt like wanting to be satisfied, but knowing your not, and also knowing the fix was just a decision away.
After work, I went straight to the creek. The gear in tow was a fly rod, flies, and a camera. Absent was waders, wading boots, lanyard, and the broad brim cowboy hat I always wear to shield the sun.
At the fringe of the creek, I stood in black dress shoes and dress khakis. I took my white dress shirt off and left it in the schooner. On the creek this day I looked like anything but a fly fisherman for carp.
Looking at a twenty-foot wide stretch of water, the milky image of a carp was showing about three-quarters way out. On the end of the tippet was the fly I call the Curiosity. The fly sailed toward the carp and upon entering the drink and beginning the descent, the image of the carp moved and soon disappeared. Less than five seconds later, the leader suddenly moved upstream. With a wrist snap, a hook-set come to bear fruit. An afternoon conversation with carp begin.
If I'd been geared correctly I would have entered the creek to land this fish, but the dress shoes and pants were on. When the fish wore down, or so I thought, I tried to beach him when he suddenly bolted downstream again throwing me off balance. Trying to gather my balance I unintentionally lowered the rod tip and somehow the leader wrapped around a tree limb. The carp was tugging at the tightening line causing a see-saw motion on the leader. Fortunately I had one of Robin Rhyne's furled leaders on and they are tough. Stretching the rod arm and rod as far out as I could and lowering the rod tip into the water the wrap was reversed.
Wasting no time I quickly bull-dogged and beached the carp.
After releasing this fish... I wanted more. But, the time issue came front and center so I left the creek feeling much better than earlier in the day. It doesn't take a lot to scratch an itch.
Our friend Charlie has pulled up lame. A bothersome issue with his foot is preventing him from doing what he loves - stalking and hunting the carp.
He has resigned himself to staying in one place or area and waiting for the carp to come to him. This is an example of a patient angler and Charlie has such a virtue.
Despite of his lack of mobility he's been doing well with the fish, which include carp, catfish, drum, and the pan-fish.