Skip to content

Posts tagged ‘Blanco fly rods’

Stout Reluctance

Drifting. Things getting scattered. Unfolding, procrastination on the horizon. Glorious in its bathing reluctance.

Should have, could have, but didn’t. Nah, I was caught off guard. The plan was to paint both my bathroom and spare bedroom. None of it happened. I’m throwing the blame on my dad, totally his fault. His text, sent earlier before our journey up and throughout a few wild untamed streams, simply lured me away.  

Guilty as charged. 

SR1And you know what? I didn’t catch a single thing. Hooked a few, that I did. None of them made their way to my open and otherwise caring hands. 

Beyond the giant trout, those bastards freeing themselves from ends of otherwise stout leader, it was a good day. 

SR2No complaints. And the paint will still be waiting. 

Throwing Adams

They were all of insignificant size, but it didn’t really matter. Nothing more than a few hours of bliss, reeling in acrobatic cutthroat trout, enjoying those peculiar sounds where riffles and current combed over shallow uneven cobblestone beds. Choice of fly was none other than that of an Adams. Pure surface action, with every ounce of me engaged. Irritations melted away, drifted away, like those white pudgy columns patrolling the skies overhead. TA2Each throw of line put the Adams on a different voyage, riding high on surface while moving shadows beneath kept a curious eye. Everything in their world, passing morsel or otherwise seemed always under strict surveillance. And then there was the familiar break, where surface split, and the Adams going bye-bye.TA1

TA3