I made it to the river today. Expectations were high, but my heart wasn't really in it. I went through the motions...walked some flats, crept across gravel, stared from high banks looking for targets; but whatever I was hoping for never really materialized. Honestly, I was hoping to feel better, but I don't. There are no quick fixes, no easy way to skip out on the tough stuff of grieving. I guess you just have to keep on keeping on, and eventually you feel like your old self.
The river and the fish seemed to be in a similar mood. The water was low. Really low, and not a breath of wind in the air. Once popular flats were high and dry, grass was growing where carp had been feeding a few weeks ago, and the shallows were hard to find. And even harder to fish. I lost count of the number of tailing carp that simply stopped tailing and swam away when my flies hit the water. I went lighter, cast farther away form the fish...eventually I found the sweet spot and got a few flies to some fish...started hooking up.
I fished one of my dad's rods today. A six weight, the very rod he was using the day he died. It is a great rod, and it felt right to fish it, but I couldn't turn the fish. I lost a good half dozen fish to weedbeds. I simply couldn't stop them. they would burn towards the nearest weedbed, and I would try to turn their head to no avail. I caught a lot of salad, but lost a lot of carp.
All told, I landed 7 or 8 fish...nothing over 13 lbs or so...the bigger fish that I hooked (and there were a few) wouldn't be denied the deep and heavy weedbeds.
Worth noting in the first picture is a 12wt prototype sun mask...nice piece of gear...and of course a Fly Carpin lid. Thanks to both for some great stuff.