BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #14

BONEDALE FISHING REPORT #14

When it comes to me and water

I can say we’re entwined.

When it settles into evening

It’s the only place I feel alive.

When it comes to making ends meet

It’s not the direction I’m inclined.

When I’m not drifting these mountains

The Devil isn’t far behind.

Dance with me between the willows

Over stones, along the tides.

Drive with me across the Prairie

Cut the engine, hear the night.

* * *

It was one of those evenings on the river–a new client who had his priorities straight. He informed me he could care less about catching piles of fish, and even less about landing them. We started late to see the sunset and evening rise. This guy has been fishing with guides for twenty years and has never thrown dry flies, which means the guides he’s fished with didn’t have their priorities straight. Once he got used to the line, the fish began to move–some slashed, rolled, or simply drew the fly down, but we got to see them, which is the point. I’m no purist, but if the fish are hitting the surface, that’s where we should be. I showed him the trick of pressuring a fish with heavy tippet on a Tiemco 200R and flexing out the hook. Kid Super and I discovered this years ago when the birds were dancing, every head was up and we drifted into the dropping sun–just the two of us gliding across God’s creation.

Live from the WORLD HEADQUARTERS

Kea C. Hause esq.

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Photo: Satank Bridge, Carbondale, CO.