Chasing Windmills

I saw her. The beast.

The day started off innocently enough; a crisp fall morning of 23° saw frost covering the bean fields. I approached the river with anticipation, hoping the cool weather had finally brought some change to my sorry ass-excuse of a season. I rigged up my seven weight and tied on a Nocturnal nymph. When I approached my honey hole, the water was dirty and the fish were sparse, victim again of a week of wind and rain. I struggled to make out pods of fish against the low rising sun, glaring back at me with a scowl. I tried changing my angles of approach but without luck. I glanced down and saw an oblivious bass darting around in the rocks below me. I dropped the fly in front of its mouth and made a connection. Note to self: bass like glow bugs. I threw the juvie smallie back in and vainly attempted to work the two pods of fish that I could barely make out, but I had no game. Fail. I packed it up early.

I wasn't quite sure where my escapades were going to take me, I scouted around a few differnet locations before ending up back at the same hole I visited a few weeks past. Another angler was already down there, lazily drowning a sucker minnow beneath a bobber the size of a globe. He was definitely a bit sketchy, a Samsquanch; good thing I just paid up on my hobo stab insurance. He hadn't had any luck in the hour he'd been there and I could see why. I scanned the water repeatedly and saw nothing. Even at 1130, the sun was still too low to shine over the bank and illuminate the entire pool. After a very patient half hour, I finally spotted a few shadows lurking from the dark side. I grabbed my rod, still equipped with the Nocturnal nymph, and dropped it right along the seam of light. I checked my fly up in front of the fish so that I could see where it was, then dropped it back in to the zone. The shadow rose and emerged the beast! I watched her head shake and I pulled back. I just tugged that hook in to the lips of that mofo and watched her run.

I fought that girl long and hard. My arm tired as I repeatedly tried pumping the old gal to the surface in hopes of landing her. I made sure to keep tension on the line and the drag snug, but not to tight. I palmed the reel for extra control. Even though I had 2X fluorocarbon tied on, I still worried of breaking off, or worse yet, pulling the hook free. I tried to keep my mind of those nasty thoughts and kept fighting the beast. After several failed attempts of landing her I got up enough strength to get up on some rocks and work her from a higher angler to gain more leverage. I finally managed to pull her up high and miraculously got the hoop of my net around her massive shoulders. A true Sea Donkey.

I got Bigfoot to take my mugshot. Of course from his high vantage point, it makes "Objects In Mirror Are Smaller Than They Appear". Damn Skunk Ape.