FISHING WITH FROG one more time
Frog, Catfish, Cranky, Marty filling in for Joby (we're not so good at taking pictures.)
Readers of this blog that have been with me since the beginning may be familiar with the “Fishing With Frog” series. These posts detail the many annual fly-fishing trips with old, and I mean old, fraternity brothers in various Western Maryland streams. There have been several characters, but every year includes Frog, and Catfish.
My last trip was in 2016, I have been missing due to previous engagements, aching bones, and Covid, but in 2022 I returned.
If you have any interest in previous posts, and they are actually reasonably entertaining if you have no life, go to the upper left corner where the little spyglass thing is and type “Fishing with Frog.” All the posts along with their links will magically appear.
This years trip, along with Frog and Catfish was Joe to most, Joby to us and Mr. Cady to neighborhood 8-year-olds.
We left on Wednesday morning for a 5-hour drive and stayed at a very nice soup to nuts condo/cabin that Catfish found. It took twenty minutes and a lot of cussing before Frog mastered the complicated 6 numeric entry code and we were in. I did say we were old, didn’t I?
As soon as we unpacked it was off to the first stream. I caught no fish; I did manage to lose my wading stick which made getting back to dry land a bit dicey…I survived. Frog caught three rainbow trout, and Catfish nailed two fish, one a very large rainbow.
Joby had little luck.
The next day we tried a new stream. It looked nice, but there were no fish. I know there were no fish because Catfish did not catch any fish. Frog sometimes does not catch a fish, if Catfish gets skunked, it is because there were no fish. That afternoon we retuned to the first stream. No bueno. I think Catfish caught one.
Friday, we tried a stream a bit further away that Catfish, based on previous trips, was convinced would not have any trout.
Catfish was wrong.
There were fish. He caught several, even an elusive golden trout, as did Frog. I believe Joby got a few as well, me not so much. I did however manage to not lose a single fly either by a birds-nest cast or a snagged tree branch. This was a victory for me.
Before we broke for lunch, Catfish called me over to a productive spot, demonstrated a new technique, and tied on a new fly.
With his tutoring I caught three small mouth bass and a croaker. Actually, Catfish caught the first fish while demonstrating how to present the fly, but he quick handed me the rod to reel it in, promising not to tell any one I did not hook it.
We did get a picture.
There is too a fish in that net!
As many times as I have gone fishing, I am always shocked to actually catch a fish.
We left the stream for a lunch break and returned later.
Frog and I tried a new spot on the stream. It was not very deep. The rocks were slick. I know it was not too deep because the damn slick rocks caused me to do a full-on face plant into the stream…twice. That was the end for me. I returned to our car and climbed out of my waders and tried to dry off…not very successfully. Oh, BTW I lost my driving glasses on the second slip.
I finished the day while the others ran into some very good dry-fly fishing, with a nice cigar which I smoked down further than a hobo and listened to the Yankee game on the radio.
Later, a shower, some scotch and a steak never tasted so good.
That is the thing about fishing, especially fly-fishing. Part of it is fun, much is really hard and tiring, a whole lot is frustrating as heck, especially for a nubie like myself; but a shower will never feel better and a cigar, scotch and steak could never taste as good.
Will I do it again next year?
Kind of like a woman who just had a baby…no way…
Then, you forget the difficulty, the frustration and the unplanned-on swim. Eventually the thought of actually catching a fish, and the taste of a steak, scotch and a good cigar kicks in.
Like a woman who amazingly enough will have another baby, I suspect I will do it all over again. (The fishing trip that is!)