“Why don’t you write Jas?”
Just when I think I have something figured out, the river shows me how much I still have to learn.
Stop. Wait. There’s a fish there. You see him?
Getting skunked. It happens. But it’s not about catching fish, right? It’s about wading through a beautiful trout stream. The stillness of being alone with your own thoughts in nature. The rhythms of casting and mending line. Spending time with the people you care about. Are these not the special reasons we go fly fishing? Sure they are… but I still want to catch fish.
To me, the riffles are every bit as exciting as any other part of the river. I think of the riffles as connections between sections on the river. You cannot catch fish if you are not fishing as you move from section to section.
It was not the first time I had found myself in this situation on the river, and it would not be the last.
I love targeting trout tucked in tight along the banks of a river. Especially, grassy banks. Especially, grassy banks with vegetation overhanging. Especially, grassy banks, with vegetation overhanging, that are difficult to cast to without losing my fly.
The art of the missed hookset is nuanced and complex. Like most artforms, grasping one aspect of the missed hook set does not translate into a full understanding and mastery of the overall process. It takes a greater level of skill to miss the hook set on a trout after years of experience, but truly great fly fishermen and women do not succumb to complacency in the other aspects of the sport they love, so it follows that the art of missing hook sets is no different.