I went out today with the intention of fishing for bass on the fly rod. After an hour fishing one of my go to spots, it just wasn’t happening. I wasn’t even finding the little guys that I expected to find in reasonable numbers.
My mind began to wander, which got me thinking about going after muskies again, given my success last week. At some point I’d have to start the cast count over, not only getting to the mythical 10,000 casts, but all the blood, sweat and frustration that accompanies it. I couldn’t take it anymore, I decided to switch to plan B and hop around to some of my old muskie spots.
It was this kind of day in Minneapolis. I don’t think we’ve had a day of thunderstorms and steady rain since July? I love fishing in these conditions (minus the lightening). Throw on your waders and wading jacket, and you have a condom-like barrier between yourself and the elements. The other bonus to inclement weather is that for the second week in a row I had Calhoun, Isles and Harriet all to myself. A handful of walkers and joggers came out later in the afternoon when the rain let up, but for the most part I was alone.
Many people like get away from other people and anglers when fishing. I’m often amazed how you can actually get away from the rat race in one of the most populated area for hundreds of miles. Unfortunately for me the fish weren’t cooperating. I managed a few mid-teens bass that I briefly considered photographing but deemed them not worthy of pulling the camera out.
I did manage to have a fat 44″ish muskie charge my fly, only to do the typical last minute pause at the end of the follow. It was fun to be standing in gin clear water having a big toothy critter sitting there staring back at me. What’s wrong with those fish, they clearly have behavioral problems? At the end of the day all I was left with was the tell-tale burn marks on my fingers that come with a day of stripping streamers.