“You see what I am looking at?
“Yeah, I see it.”
The cast hit the water sixty feet from the bow of the boat.
“This is going to be about a seven second countdown.”
I striped back towards the boat, then stopped.
“Yeah, now wait.”
I counted in my head. Kevin counted out loud. We visualized the fly in our heads, moving down at about one foot per second towards the dark spot against blue-white bottom. The count ended.
I striped. The line came tight. I strip-set and swung the rod to the right, then striped again to build some pressure. Cameron and Kevin cheered behind me and I couldn’t see them but could feel the arms raised in triumph, fists beating at the sky, a winner’s celebration. But there was a problem. A problem with the pressure… it was constant. No headshake, no run. Sometimes people momentarily snag things and claim fish, but deep down they know. We know. Even for the smallest moments, when there is life at the end of the line, we know. And we know when there is not.
However, I can say without any doubt, that this is the best guided, casted, and hookset stick of my fishing career. It fooled us all. Good on you, fishy stick.
-Alex who thanks Cameron Mortenson for the photographic documentation.
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