Fish Finder

"A fisherman skillfully knotted his green and white "killer hoochy" to a
Leader, measured it, looped the opposite end at precisely the right length,
clipped it to a flasher, then tossed everything over the side to see how it
looked in the water. It looked fine as it sank from sight, for none of it
was tied to his main line." - Author Unknown.

Funny stuff for sure. I know we have all been on the wrong side of mental blocks, while out on our own fishing adventures, or at least have barred witness to them as they unfolded right in front of us. Fishing or the anticipation of getting underway to do so can some times cloud a persons better judgment or thought process. It happens to the best of us, and it is the brief lapses of brain activity that always seem to add flavour to any fishing trip no matter the out come. For some reason, (maybe because nothing bad happens on most trips) we always remember what went wrong during a trip before we remember what went right. Most trips nothing out of the norm happens other than enjoying the scenery, having fun with our fishing buddies, catching a fish or two, and having a good time, but sometimes the adventure is getting to where we want to be. Which is out on the water loving life and waiting for a fish to bite.

One trip quite a few years ago comes to mind. A buddy and I decided we would take a weekend and head up into the interior to do some spring time lake fishing. Plans were made over the previous week as to who was bringing what, and where we were heading. After a long work week the morning of our departure couldn't come soon enough. When it finally did, we were loaded up in mere minutes and off on our road trip. By the time we arrived at the lakes edge, the sun was up, the fish seemed to be active on the waters surface, and swallows were making short work dive bombing and skimming the surface of the lake as they dinned on the first emerging Chironomid hatch of the day. We could hardly contain our selves keeping one eye on the water while we unloaded our gear and pitched camp. Finally we were ready to hit the water. Rods were fastened, lines were strung, flies were attached, and waders were peeled on. I was now ready to hop into my float tube and make my way into the water, but one thing held me back. As I tore through camp and the car in a panic I realized I had forgot my flippers.

On another trip three of us found our selves up on Dragon Lake having the time of our lives fooling brutes in the midst of a feed on a good Dragon nymph migration. One of my buddies forgot his net, but it was no big deal because we were all fishing in close proximity to one another. So if a large fish was hooked then one of us moved over to help our net challenged companion out. Then came one such fish he needed a hand landing so I offered my net while I readied myself with the camera. While doing so I instructed him not to drop the net I passed to him (which was always tethered to me) as it didn't float. As he carefully slipped his trophy from the net he releaseed his grip on the handle, and in slow motion we watched my net slip into the depths. I can't recall how many fish we landed between us that day, but I do vividly remember losing the net. Then there was the time I blew a tire and destroyed the rim on my truck looking for an unnamed lake deep and high up in an interior mountain range, only to find my spare tire was barely half full. It was a long slow ride out realizing later we were only a few hundred yards from the well hidden gem. I can't recall all the countless pairs of pliers, shades, and other items I sacrificed to the fishing gods over the years, but I know it seems like more than my fair share. I look I back it all with a grin, knowing it's a right of passage as a fishermen that we all experience more than a few times over.

Finder