I’ve been with the family upstate. Today I decided to walk a remnant of the canal system and sight fish to carp. The casts fell into place in front of mudding grubbers but the carp shunned every offering.
Humiliation forces the reconsideration of options; and the desperate idea of returning to the farm pond. But redemtion needed to come elsewhere, through a group of bass living under a bridge. They’re used to seeing shiners and worms and plastic ad nauseum and just don’t budge for much.
But it’s easy enough to pull of the road and jump the guardrail and slide down the embankment.
This bass came out of the shadow line and poked and poked and finally committed in a lazy inhalation of my fly. Good enough. Hooked it proper, smacking the rod tip on the concrete above.
I’ll try the carp again tomorrow.