Sticking it out (2/2)
Possibly. But what happened next makes me doubt that.
With my boat still anchored after landing the previous fish, I resumed casting, and only minutes later felt my fly wrenched tightly once again, this time by what was clearly a larger fish. After some frantic seconds spent trying to gain control of my line—now deeply buried in a weed bed—the fish rocketed back upward and leapt clear of the water’s surface, fully revealing its 46-48 inch-long, 25-30 pound frame. Woah. Ok—not a coincidence! To make a long story short, landing and releasing this fish gave me the shakes. Another 15 minutes of casting—now with a serious case of the jitters—yielded a third muskie, this time in the 40-42 inch range. After landing and releasing my third fish in the same hour, and taking a brief moment to deliberate, I folded my rod and rowed back to the boat launch—thoroughly soaked on the outside, and grinning maniacally on the inside.
I’ve lost count of how many great fishing days began with a later-than-usual start, and what was initially an unenthusiastic trudge to the river or boat launch. Knowing this, I tend to opt IN on such occasions, rather than opt out. As long as bite windows exist, the most elusive fish will be reserved for anglers who can ‘stick it out,’ and increase their chances of being present when the proverbial stars align. So, when’s the best time to be on the water? For the diehard, the answer to this question is simple, and a cliché not worth repeating. For anglers like myself, who are more inclined to be selective, ‘when the skies cloud over’ seems a more useful response.
Strangely, I have a hard time ‘sticking it out’ on days like the one I’ve described. Years ago, in what turned into a memorable moment, my father told me that ‘it takes two people to paint a masterpiece: one person to paint it, and his friend—to hit him in the head when he’s finished.’ Put simply, I think sometimes it’s wise to call quits when things seemingly couldn’t get any better. Knowing when to play the role of one’s ‘friend’ is a skill. An angler’s satisfaction provides some insight on their unspoken goals, on top of their willingness to be soaked by rain while chasing a fish that evidently cares nothing about such trivial adversities. We don’t want to be happy, per se, we want a challenge that makes us somewhat unhappy, and absolutely ecstatic upon overcoming it.