Never fish Central Park during a school holiday. I headed up to the Park and met up with Randy Kadish and Matt Stansberry’s brother Nate to try for some bass. So did about 800 other people. I guess when you’re in a city comprised of millions, expecting to find fly fishing solace on a 70 degree day in the Park when school’s out is not realistic. For every ten feet of water I worked, a guy with a spinner and a soft plastic rig would be working ahead of me. Sloppy seconds doesn’t get the bass. Kids were throwing rocks in the remaining heretofore undisturbed water. We were lucky to get a couple of bluegill and crappie.
Still, there’s something gratifying about clicking through the subway turnstile with a rod tube in hand, knowing that in five stops you’ll be casting to fish. I’m debating making it a lunch break deal. And here’s the thing that’s going to keep me going back. Giant freaking carp finning in the shallows like bonefish; 20-plus pounders rooting around with their tails out. Of course, they wanted nothing to do with anything I threw. Why hit flies when the guys down the way are using balled up bits of tortilla shell? (They ignored that, too.) It’s enough to make you insane. This is a game I’m determined to learn.