Ya know, by the numbers, the fishing was pretty bad, but I actually had to think about it hard to see that. It didn’t feel unsuccessful. It felt full and hard and fun and fulfilling, even if the tally marks were few and far between.
The weather was such a huge factor in the trip. It was like a goalie, guarding the net. The lights were seldom on. I can’t say the wind was an issue. I think my casting, in general has come a long way in recent years to the point where I don’t think about it (until it all goes wrong, which it did once on this trip). My casting doesn’t make me anxious and I don’t fret about it (again, until it falls apart, but I recover).
But the lights… you need the lights. You can only do so much of staking out the light sand and waiting as dozens and dozens of fish slip by over the grass.
I’ll take the discomfort of the wet, but you need the lights and we just didn’t have enough of it.
In some ways it feels like we missed out, but in others, it feels like it was a perfect trip, because we were there and getting after it and we were wiped out at the end of the day, but not so much that we couldn’t stay up until 2 in the morning and talk it all through.
The fish tally really doesn’t feel like the measure of this trip.
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