Great Expectations

I’ve stated ad nauseam that there is no finer fly fishing month in these parts than June. There truly are many fantastic times throughout the year to be a flinger, I just happen to be fond of June. As I recently searched through the battered remains of my Panasonic’s memory card I was left wanting. The pictures read more like a quilt than a fully-formed nookie blankie. There isn’t a completed story in the bunch, just a smattering of hand and fish half truths rounding out the lot. The rhythmic heartbeat of the rainy season has been more predictable than Lionel Messi from 18-yards. While things have loosened up a bit over the last week or two, by and large I’ve been washed out. Two extended trips were cancelled and I found myself on the receiving end of mother nature’s cruel hand more times than I’d care to admit. The ample mayfly activity that we so richly deserve after a tough spring has left us empty handed. And so we fish on.

Sometimes you’ve got to get back to the basics and simplify your game. Anglers dot the landscape looking more like Bradley Fighting Vehicles than proper fly rodders. I can be a staunch minimalist, willing to bare it all. Bask in my damn sexy chicken legs, ’cause there’s a good chance they won’t make another appearance. I enjoy the root beer frothiness of this frame, and couldn’t help but put it up. In a post lean on quality storytelling and even leaner on impressive conquests, I’m compelled to utilize such filler.

I have a handful of new gear to review. Including my chaotic love/hate relationship with my new landing nets, but that’s a story for another day. I will offer up a parting gift of my 8-weight TFO BVK. This rod is all style and no substance, and cannot be trusted in a heavy weight bout. You sort of know what you’re getting in a TFO stick, so you just roll with the punches. A sizable common carp folded it up like a crepe during a blistering run. As I plodded back to my truck empty handed, disappointment washed over me like a light buzz. The all too familiar glass half empty mantra has been standard operating procedure as of late. I’ve been a day late and a dollar short which tells me my space time continuum has been out of synch. If it was easy they’d call it catching, right?