taking my lumps

Dana,

Your misfortune has helped to make me feel a little better. Maybe misery does love company.

I know I don't always make perfect casts but up until this year, I was fairly confident of being able to make my fall pilgramage to the Snake and count on at least a fish or two a day. 4 1/2 days this year yielded one good grab, one boil and one half-hearted pluck. Still I should not complain as this was more than the four guys I was with managed. Adjusting for late arrivals, one guys morning sleepin to nurse a hangover, etc., the five of us logged 13.5 angler days with only the brief interactions above to show for it. This inspite of near perfect conditions and 170,000 fish over the damn in the prior two months.

Some times everything is perfect except for the catching. Still it was a great trip with good company, good times and great memories. I recently read that flyfishing is the art of learning to manage one's expectations. This is doubly true of steelheading. Still there must be some honor in perseverance and the knowledge that one did everything the right way. At least I keep telling myself this.

Here's hoping that November holds some Thompson steel for you.

st

Dana,

I know all too well what you mean. This June we had Charles Gaines and my photographer friend Håkan Stenlund up the Three Rivers to do an article for ASF's "The Atlantic Salmon Journal". Me as the supposed local "guru" was assigned to fish with them to make sure that some nice fish ended up on the film rolls.

Yes, you have guessed it right. It became a nightmare. I blew fish in the take - got stuck with the fly in one of the three trees we have on the territory and even fell in when wading too deep to ge that darn +30 pounder in view. Meanwhile rookies fishing the far bank slammed into big fish like they never had done anything else. I was humiliated and could not help an inner pressure of low self esteem and misery build up.

That eveing we stayed at the Litza river tentcamp. After dinner I sneaked around the next bend just to get a chanse to heal up. Fished trough an innocent looking run and felt how things slowly were falling in place again. Bang! A 28 pounder took me and was safely landed after a good battle. Soon after a I got another slighly smaller fish. Ah, I had it going again!!

A quick run back to camp - Håkan scrambled after me with the cameras and I waded out to finnish the untouched lower 2/3's of the run off. For nothing.......

Eventually we got some photos worth printing. Still, to fish under that kind of pressure is nothing for me. Henry Williamson in his excellent ol' book "Clear water" says that he feels like the heron - it is hard to fish when you are closely watched. Guess that is me, too......

Per

PS: The article came out well. in spite of me falling through, and can be seen in the lates issue of that fine magazine.

lumps

dana,
know what you mean. what amazes me is how fast i can lose my confidence after all these years.
last summer i arrived at a b.c. river for the 6th yr in a row. went out for the afternoon and my favorite run was open. it took me the afternoon to fish it. i started with a new variation fly. the water was higher than i had fished in about 3 yrs. i loved it! thought it fished better than it ever had. nothing. changed flies 3-4 times ;still nothing. turns out everyone else had a hayday. i was the only one skunked!i was beside myself! started to question my sink tip;was it getting down enough?etc.i could not believe i was blanked. the water was better than it had ever made me feel as my intruder searched its currentsand its cobbled edges!
next morning it was open again.ihad to know was it me?was it just that i did not fish over any fish? i used my same sink tip my same orange intruder.i did everthing the way i always do it,but was almost ready to change because i did not connect the day before. by lunch pickup time seven screamers had taken me well into my backing! it kept up like that for the rest of the trip! and i was right on my read of the water in that spot. i ended up hooking 3/4 of my fish in the one drift. how can one day like that first one sometimes make us quikly question everthing?