When a Creek Surprises

it's a favorite, hands down.

Ordinarily I'm well equipped, never leaving home without both mosquito repellant and bear spray. I needed neither. A refreshing reason Currant Creek would rank among my favorites, but of course that's hardly the reason. Why we weren't tormented by buzzing and biting, I don't know and I don't care. We weren't; that's good enough for me. I know there were bears there, but we didn't stumble onto one catnapping in the willows; that's also good enough for me.

Currant Creek winds through pretty country, the creek bed is as varied as it is beautiful and the fish are plenty sporting. Again we took turns dry fly fishing upstream.

I've concluded sitting tight, enjoyably waiting one's turn to fish is a more "mature" approach then I've ever been able to apply before. Previously I was so eager to fish, the notion of spelling one another seemed a certifiable practice. It's just this kind of fishing that makes fishing about more than just catching fish.

Stealth, scouting, sight fishing, gives an angler time to plan: how & where to present the fly; what cast to use, how much line; maneuver into a good position; where can the fish be netted.... It's about strategy, not just flinging fly line with high hopes. It's a learn-as-you-go thinking sport.

Maybe Currant Creek is surprisingly inspirational, or maybe I simply surprise myself. I'm learning. I bring more "eyes", experienced eyes, to the game every time I fish. That fishing can be about precision defines it as a challenge, not merely the consequence of dumb luck. Bringing skill to the challenge is the fun of it.

In some of the tight spots I was casting/fishing, Donna wondered if I wasn't a little too brave [cocky] with my cast. Not brave, confident. Confidence comes with practice. Practice when you're not fishing, so when you are, each time you're a little savvier, a little better than the time before.

Surprises, remember we're in Utah now...

Wake up.

Have your breakfast.

While you're at it, have a look at what's looking right back at cha'.

Clearly we were in the path of this fellow and his intended route to the creek.

 He politely veered.

Our third moose sighting and finally a photo. Donna's been keen to see a moose for 3 trips, 3 years. Picture perfect! But, who'd've thunk? I'd sooner expect salmon to spawn in Nevada than expect a moose in Utah. Oh wait, salmon used to spawn in Nevada.

There's tactics, then there's beaver pond tactics.

Fishing with Donna is what fishing is all about. No matter our age, it recalls the kind of youthful exhilaration that used to compel us to playfully duck out of sight, steal away on our bikes though, however faintly, we could hear our Mom calling us home...the mischievous satisfaction that comes from having gotten away with something because, independently, we were stealthy, clever and quick. Fishing with Donna is like that - "cool kid" fishing with joyful abandon. It's good enough for me.


© Marian Tallon September, 2012