On a recent extended outing I found myself in a bit if a slump. Fish were around but hard to come by. Near the end of a fishless day I found myself in a beautiful run within the evening shade of The Wall and proven buckets calling to me. Things were feeling fishy. The 6139 was singing for me. I'm not the most proficient caster. I do OK, but on this particular evening I could do no wrong. Most of you know that feeling, I suspect. I two-stepped down the run casting to a deep slot along a cliff face with dreamy seams and slicks, some more pronounced than others but all could hold a fish. Two more steps. A well-placed greaseliner. Not yet. Two more steps. Another good cast. Not yet. I stepped for the next cast to the fishiest of the seams and set up. Then it happened. An event I regarded as a portent of good. The omen. Appearing as if from above the bucket a single seemingly errant October caddis flew at eye level from the rock face across the river and towards me. I watched it as it came closer, its flight a slight up and down undulation but its path always straight. Straight towards me. A sign? I smiled. Not a smirk but a huge ear-to-ear grin. The caddis continued flying closer and I realized it was flying TO me. A sign! Closer and closer at eye-level, coming to speak to ME. It advance with soft determination and bounced gently off of my forehead then disappeared behind me. A brief encounter but significant. I had been kissed by an October caddis on a fishless day in the middle of the fishiest of runs with my next cast intended for the bucket. Who of us would not see that as a sign? There was no way my next cast would be fruitless. I stood for a moment considering the gravity of the moment and prayed my casting streak hadn't ended. Deep breath. Lift. Sweep. Touch. Go. Perfect cast! Wait for it. Wait for it. Nothing. NOTHING! That couldn't be possible. Hadn't the October caddis had spoken to me? Maybe it takes some time to take affect, I thought. Try again. Another cast. Perfect. NOTHING. Ok maybe after two more steps. No. Two more. Nope. And so it went and ended. Fishless. Not a sign. Just a blind insect on a coincidental course and me in a lather. As the River Rambler later told me, sometimes an eagle is just an eagle...
An omen? Maybe. Maybe the kiss of the October caddis is significant and the rewards are still coming. And so with this thought I keep trying.
An omen? Maybe. Maybe the kiss of the October caddis is significant and the rewards are still coming. And so with this thought I keep trying.
