A
Trout By Any Other Name
submitted by Mark Whitney
Friday morning, the sky was clear,
the temps were mild and the wind was howling like a dog with its tail caught in
a closed car door. These are not
prime casting conditions for someone who fishes creeks in north Georgia and
generally only sees the first 12 feet of his fly line. After wearing my arm out back casting
into a gale, I pulled out my trusty spinning rod and laid waste to those toothy
critters using an electric chicken salt water assassin. There’s more than one way to fill the
skillet! At about 2:00 in the
afternoon and 6 hours of fishing, the wind quit being mad and went away. Fortunately the bite was still on, the
tide was low, the trout were huddled up in the deep holes and I hadn’t noticed
how sunburned my legs were yet. I
went back to the fly rod, tied on a white and pink clouser minnow and called
myself a fly fisherman once again.
I finished up the day with 5 trout
using my fly rod and 3 lady fish.
The lady fish were the most fun, running, jumping and trying to shake my
flies. They certainly earned their
reputation as the poor man’s miniature tarpon.
Saturday broke a little cooler and
the wind was mostly a non-factor.
I stuck with my fly rod most of the day and was happy to have the
chance. I ended up with more trout
than I could keep and caught another 5 lady fish. Again, most were caught on a clouser, but a couple were
caught on a fly tied by a friend of mine.
I’d tell you what it looks like, but then he’d have to kill me (his
words, not mine).
I hope to see you on the water some
time.
Mark
Mark
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