When I retired almost two years ago I told myself that there’s no need to fish for steelhead on the weekends. Why fight the crowds, standing shoulder to shoulder, when the weekdays will be less crowded, and the good fishing spots open. For the most part, I followed my advice until today. So I figured to get out really early and stake out a spot. Plus, I wanted an excuse to use my headlamp, which was a gift from my wife.
Arriving at the North Chagrin Reservation, there was just a hint of light in the sky, none of it reaching the ground. Thankfully, I rig up the night before, eliminating having to fumble in the parking lot. Arrive, put on the headlamp, grab the gear, and go. Starting down the trail, I noticed my senses were in overdrive, especially sight and sound. Could this be due to the darkness that enveloped me? Each stride made a distinctive crunch. Birds, near and far, made their morning calls as if they were following me down the trail. The river, while not yet in view, seemed to roar as though it was a Class IV rapid. But it was my sight that seemed to overtake me.
First light at its finest. In a little more than a month those trees will be filled with green.
(Click on image for a larger view.)
The headlamp worked great, illuminating the area all around me. But it also accentuated the shadows. Walking down the trail, immersed in leafless trees and bushes, the branches seemed to come at me like tentacles wanting to grab my arm and pull me into a place that only Stephen King can describe. I don’t scare easily but I was happy when the light made itself known.
As for the day on the water, the best part of it was the photo of the sky, with a shade of blue not often seen. The fishing was slow. I worked a few runs with no takes. I wanted to hit another section of the river but about a dozen fishermen filled the spots, so I called it a day.
Part of the posse that combed every inch of water for chrome.
I think I’ll go back to weekdays.
Go out and fool a fish!
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