February 7, 2016 – Cursed from the Start

The only good thing that happened today.

This Super Bowl Sunday was one I would like to forget, and I didn't even watch the game.  In the interest of integrity, I vowed to myself when I started this blog that I would post all the trips, good and bad and, like today, really, really, really bad.  This was the first time I considered not posting anything.  I mean, who would know?  But I figured I may go back and read this and laugh someday.  Maybe?  If anything, it’s a reminder of how fishing and life don’t always jibe and the toll this obsession can take, not only on the fisherman, but also the innocent fishing widow and family.

Tasty, but wise before an early morning?

I don’t even know where to begin, so I will begin with Saturday night.  We were supposed to have Kat and Arch and their two boys over for some pizza and family game night.  Kat and Arch weren’t talking, so Arch stayed home, and I drank a bottle of Bitches Brew myself, feeling pretty good, but knowing I had planned to get up at 5:30 to get on the road to fish somewhere, probably an hour away.

Part of the plan became Kat and the boys sleeping over, which was fine, but it meant I would have to sneak out in the morning without coffee or excess noise or light.  Of course two 8 year olds and 5 year old weren’t going to go to sleep easily after running around all night, so around 9:30 PM the moms had to lay down the law.  After reading to the boys, I tried to go to sleep before 10 PM, but I too was still wired up, so I didn’t sleep well at all.

In the morning, I successfully sneaked out of the house without waking everyone and started rigging up in the garage. Despite the forecast for a high of 46 degrees, it was really cold, like 19 degrees outside my house, and I was traveling north?  Should I stay home, I wondered aloud, go to Valley or another place closer in case it wasn’t going to happen today?  When I took my 3 wt outfit from the case, I couldn’t find the end of the leader, which I had reeled up too far on the spool.  To avoid unnecessary frustration, I grabbed the 4 wt TFO BVK instead (Remember the picture above of the same rod resting in the snow). Perhaps I was tired or not functioning without coffee, but I also dropped my dropper fly at least three times on the garage floor and had a hell of a time finding it two out of three attempts, on my hands and knees with my hot cheater glasses on.  At size 20, probably ten can fit on a dime, but I don’t usually have so much trouble.  That was sign two or three that I should stay home.  I promised my wife that I would be home by 12:15 at the latest, so I had a short window, just to add to the improbability that this would end well.  Despite the signs, I powered on.

Dropped three times: another sign ignored.

I got on the road and stopped for coffee, hoping that would wake me up and set me straight.  I arrived at my destination without incident, but once I started fishing I had a hell of a time with tree branches and backcasts.  It was cold; the water was 35 degrees and icing up my guides for the first fishless hour.  I decided to find some sun, mostly for me, but also for the dormant fish.  In December, on this same creek, I had fish after fish in a couple deep wintering holes.  Today, I couldn’t buy a hit.  When I ran into another angler, he too was having no luck at all.  We ended up quitting at nearly the same time and talked briefly at the parking pull off.  As I undressed and put my pack and net and waders away, I put my rod on the roof of the ‘Ru (You know where this is going, right?).  It was before 11 AM, so I would make good on my promise to the wife if I hustled.  I was nearly 30 minutes into my drive home when I noticed that there was no fly rod tip dancing in the peripheral vision to my right.  When I could stop and pull over, I realized that I left it on the roof while talking to the other dude!  I turned back towards the creek in a panic,  a 250 dollar rod, 150 dollar reel, line, all things I couldn’t afford to replace any time soon…  

First of 2016, but it could have been worse???

As I made my way back on a two lane road, I got behind a truck, of course.  I began to realize that I would not make it home in time, so I pulled a U-turn and raced back towards home.  I have been late when I had no good excuse (one more cast, one more cast), so I didn’t call my wife, which in retrospect only made my late arrival worse.  She had to go to work, and was pulling the boy, reluctant and close to tears, out the door with her when I arrived home 30 minutes late.  My son chose to go to work with Mom over taking an hour drive with Dad to search for a needle in a haystack.  Justifiably, like my wife, he was also not happy with me.  

In the dog house with both of them, and still potentially out 500 bucks on a college administrator’s salary, I hopped in the car and headed back up—a long shot, but I had to try.  I was hoping the rod fell off behind the Subaru when I pulled into the road.  It was just as possible that the thing could have held on longer and been run over a dozen times somewhere further down the road.  In the meantime, my wife pulled her own U-turn and brought the boy back home to stay with me.  I, of course, was already gone.  Nothing was going right, nothing.  The only good thing was that, against all odds, the rod was sitting in the snow behind my parking spot by the creek, all in one piece, not a scratch.  Just to really drive home the point that today was not meant to be, however, a tractor trailer kicked up a stone and put a crack in my windshield too.  I don't remember which return trip it happened on, as I did the trip twice (felt like 6 times).

If you don’t see posts for a while, know that I am working on more important things, like patching up my relationships with my wife and son, so that I can continue to pursue this sport with the same passion while still being married.  Next time, I hope I will be wiser, communicate better, and pay attention to the signs telling me to make a U-turn and go back to bed!