Leaving the cold and snow of Colorado to fish a bass pond in Florida is kind of strange. It was 82 degrees. Fishing still-waters for bass brings back memories of fly fishing a pond in New Jersey where as a child I first learned to fly fish.
At some level fishing is just fishing. We throw the line out (in this case a black bead-head streamer), and we strip the line in waiting for a tug. Often a strike from a bass is felt as "dead weight," and is not frantic like a trout. A bass will just suck in the fly and it feels as though you caught a snag. But then you feel its life pulsating.
Regardless of where we fish or what we fish for, after fishing for 50 years one truth is becoming more and more clear: Taking the time to stand alone on the banks of a pond or a river, and to cast with the hope of hooking a fish is a profound spiritual achievement.
Even if hooking bass in a pond.
No comments:
Post a Comment