A Plug for Trout

Went after trout with one of two tiny Rapala Countdowns I bought a decade ago. I doubt I would be able to find another, so it's a good thing the seven or eight times I cast into branches didn't result in one of them lost. That ineptitude didn't really characterize the day, as I went after the fish avidly, hitting a lot of holes and stretches, wading from one to others in one area. 

The hole photographed above is about eight feet deep. I swam there back in 1998 when my wife and I lived in Chester. In the middle of it, I paused a retrieve, the plug sinking quickly, when it got whacked. I also found a really nice, black bellied stretch that might have been five or six feet deep. As the plug once got close to me, I saw a 10- or 11-inch wild brown turn on it, then felt the hit. 

Though I missed both fish, I'm especially pleased with sighting the second one.

About halfway down the road to where I wound up, I had already felt it makes no difference it's January. I'm out fishing and a catch is likely. It occurred to me today is a day like any other. (Now that I think about it--yeah, a real day, as opposed to being stuck inside the supermarket or behind the laptop screen.) The line from the Grateful Dead came to mind, and I grabbed a chunk of c.d.'s from the door storage. Yup, one of them was American Beauty. I played the Dead for the remainder of the driving.

Being 60 and going on an adventure alone, not even with my dog, and Sadie can be helpful, I find myself feeling--in most ways--a lot younger than I ever imagined 60 would be like. The only exceptions are memory and physical stiffness and pains. I guess I never really accounted for the loss of so much limberness. I won't say it sucks. It's nothing to dread, really. You mellow into it. Sixty years are a lot, despite the sentiment about life being short. 

I brought no wading staff and really had no problem making my way around the river. I went after casting positions avidly, not needing to force myself, but 30 years ago I was a wild animal in top shape. I used to swim across lakes and major rivers--the Delaware and Connecticut. I used to dance on rocks that would break my legs now, but I can't say I do badly.

There was a moment when I thought I had lost my car keys. I told myself I can't do that, I'm in the middle of nowhere, realizing I forgot to bring my phone. They were in the pocket of my waders. I often "forget" things, when they're in the obvious place I put them.

I got home just as it was getting dark. My wife was well aware I forgot my phone. She heard it sound off when she tried to reach me. "I was about to call Mike Maxwell to ask him where you might be."

He could have figured it out, as she would have told him I went in waders.

I told her, "For now on, I'm telling you where I'm going." 

If I remember to. 

One -inch Rapala Countdown