Monday, June 1, 2009
Yesterday I took my dad fishing. He was totally hellbent on going even though there was thunder and lightening and drizzling. I took him out towards Sparks to fish in hopes the rain didn't get there yet. Anyway, we get out there and I'm glad because my dad seems to enjoy the place I've taken him to. Usually he doesn't like things that are in the city because they're too urban and not wildernessy enough. This place was fine for his taste. Upon getting there, I caught 4.5 little trout (baby browns between 8" and 10"). We fished that spot for a while and moved on to another area. That's where the "one that got away" happened. Cliche, I know. But I suppose every fisherman has a story of the sort. I threw my sinking Rapala brown trout out and reeled him in and just as he got to where I could see him swim back to me near the short, a big trout comes and swoops down on him pulling my line out again. I set the hook and reeled the monster in. He jumped. He contorted himself in the air. He pulled. I got him 5 feet away from me in the water and he jumped one more time and wiggled off the hook. Curses! My dad saw and said it looked like those trout in videos on rivers in Idaho where they jump out of the water. He said he'd vouch for me that I got that trout. It was huge. You could see his dark golden belly and tan back. I wanted to see him out just for the color alone. We spent a good part of the day after that trying to catch him with no luck. Maybe we'll get him again one day, like today? We'll see.
Posted by DasBoogs at 10:44 AM