I meet up with my friend (social distance observed of course) and the river is very busy with people. The escape into the woods feeling I've enjoyed the past week is now gone and I'm feeling anxious with the amount of anglers in the river. There's no more sense of isolation here. It feels like a live fish market with everyone standing in a line of sorts trying to catch their dinner for tonight.
The time has come and the Steelhead are running this river now. I don't need to spend too long around a popular pool to see someone pull in a nice fish, take a picture and put it back in the water. I'm now convinced I will be catching a Steelhead this evening.
We try a few spots up river for a while and catch only snags. There is an unpleasant vibe as anglers young and old are walking up and down the trails scoping each other trying to see where the fish might be. It's all very competitive now. We make it back down to the 'pool' and claim a spot along the bank just below a set of rapids. In the span of about 40 mins 3 anglers have caught and released 5 Steelheads mere yards from me. I'm anxious and envious. Why aren't they going after my bait?
It's starting to get late and the anglers start to pack up and head home. Not me though - I'm determined. It's approaching 10PM and I can barely make out my line in the water now - but I have the whole area to myself. In a obsessive meditated manner I'm casting and reeling over and over - convinced I'll get a bite. How can I not? I'm in the exact spot others have reeled in fish just an hour ago using similar bait. What. The. Hell. The fish God's I guess haven't accepted me as a fly fisherman, unworthy of my conquest to land a fish. That's all for tonight. Another fruitless attempt.
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