As the saying goes, there’s a fine line between fishing and just standing on the shore like an idiot. Actually it’s not a saying but a Steven Wright one-liner, but I think it’s good enough to pass as a saying.

Anyway, yesterday with Julien I guess we’ve been on the wrong side of the proverbial line. It was literally pouring on us, and we caught so close to bugger all that I’m not going to further the humiliation by describing the absurdly small roach each of us got as a reward for his pains.

Except mine was a good half inch bigger.

Rather unrelatedly, google image’s sense of à-propos never ceases to amaze me. Ask it for anything not too obvious, like “absurdly small roach”, and you get a world of visual poetry. Like this picture, that I find quite appalling, even though I’d be hard pressed to say what’s in it.



4 thoughts on “Line

      • hi Acey!
        you’re right, as we kept telling ourselves. drenched, skunked, feeling silly, but still holding tight to the fly purist credo.
        … even if I couldn’t see the goddamm fly under this f#cking flood. I was hoping for an unsubtle strike. didn’t happen at all.

        how’s it going? do you burn in southern summer hell?

        • Yeah, most of my life currently involves sitting around in my underwear, sweating, trying not to move for fear of heat stroke.
          Luckily there’s cooler weather and a float trip down a local smallmouth river in my near future which should cool me down and wash the stink of bait off my hands. 😉

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