Down with the Disease

The fat bastard is clearly mocking me.
The fat bastard is clearly mocking me.

Why would a grown man, already suffering from the known reasons for sleep deprivation, get up at 5:30 in the morning and drive an hour away to fish some nondescript municipal pond overrun with Canadian geese?

Carp, that’s your answer. Investing time in fish that don’t seem to care very much weighs on you. Rejection makes you want them all the more.

Chris Michels of Creek Addict has been catching a few. Seeing as he’s one step closer to John Montana than I am, I met up with him at one of his carp spots.

We could see the fish mudding in a foot of water. We watched them move time and again just out of casting range. We placed several of Chris’s nymph patterns right in front of their rubbery lips and they ignored us. Carp are nobody’s fools.

I don’t envision my life changing for the better in any significant way by getting a carp to finally eat my fly. There’s no gold embossed certificate due in the mail for it. It’s just something I want to do.

I left before they would oblige me. Of course, I’m standing in the driveway an hour removed from the scene of confrontation when I get a text from Chris:

“Got two.”

Nice work, Chris. I know you paid your dues.

8 thoughts on “Down with the Disease”

  1. 3 things:

    1. You are not alone: the carposphere is filled with obsession:
    Somehow I don’t think Benson was eating flies too often though.

    2. There is an urban river (storm drain) near my place where large carps live and ignore my flies. I have recently succumbed to the disease and have nothing to show for it except a few less flies. Again you are not alone.

    3. The Mighty Mighty Bosstones have a tune (some have called it an an anthem) with lyrics that provide a different perspective on an analogous condition:

    “What you call a disease, I call the remedy. What you’re calling the cause I call the cure.”

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