A strange thing has happened. I, the Agitated Angler, get to go fishing. That’s right. In less than a week I will be participating in the physical act of fishing instead of just writing, talking, reading, thinking and dreaming about it. Yep, actual fishing. For trout. In a stream. Or technically it may be a river. To tell the truth, I don’t know exactly where I’ll be fishing, but I do know it’s within walking distance of the cabin I’ll be staying at near Boone, North Carolina.
See, one of my best friends is getting married soon and wanted to go skiing/snowboarding for his last great adventure as a single man (I myself chose the more classic route for my bachelor party and just got knee-walking drunk while surrounded by strippers, but what can I say, I’m a traditionalist.). Not one to throw myself down mountains for fun, I opted out of the skiing but was totally willing to go along for the nearby trout streams and mandatory beer drinking. So my friend’s brother, who is in charge of this event, managed to find a cabin to be our home base throughout the festivities within walking distance “to the river”.
I have received no info on which river.
Whatever the river/stream, this time of year I’ll probably spend my time slowly dredging deep holes with the usual southern Appalachian winter time fly combo of a flashy, heavy weight attractor pattern followed by a small drab nymph. Not the most exciting fishing in the world but it beats sitting in the house wishing I was fishing. And who knows, “the river” may be one of the tailwater fisheries in the area and I might happen upon a decent BWO hatch.
One thing I do know is that I’m woefully ill prepared. I haven’t fished for trout since May of last year and never got around to replenishing my box of nymphs, or my leaders, tippets, etc.. The leaders and tippets are a simple fix that just requires me to get off my fat ass and go shopping. The flies on the other hand are another matter.
I’ve been tying saltwater and warmwater flies almost exclusively for the past two years, the smallest of which have been size eight. So when I sat down recently to tie up a few size fourteen copper johns, well, the results were less than spectacular. Honestly, it was frustrating as hell; lots of breaking thread, using too much material, bending hooks and basically tying like a Goddamned amateur and I’m no amateur when it comes to tying trout flies. I’m not trying to brag but I’ve got multiple boxes of really nice dry flies I’ve tied down to size 24. I know how to tie small flies and I used to tie them well, but I guess tying small flies is nothing like riding a bike…
I have until this coming Friday to work my way out of my little fly funk and get some tying done. I also need to find my waders, my wading boots and all my warm moisture wicking under waders clothing. I need to make sure I know where all my trout fishing paraphernalia is and that it’s packed in my bag. I need to check out my 4wt outfit and make sure everything is good working order. I need to get a North Carolina fishing license. And because this is first and foremost a bachelor party, I need to splurge on a bottle of good bourbon and a case of nice beer.
This all has to be done by Friday. And considering this has taken me two days to type, all one handed, while holding a baby, Friday may be coming faster than I like.