No Quandries on Solitude
They were hooking fish at the Holmes hole this morning – at least the boatmen were and I probably could have worked the run up top and easily tripled my odds of hooking fish. They were probably all salmon anyhow, and I really wanted a chrome bright early running winter fish. I went downstream to a decent piece of water that rarely gets fished, had it to myself and even connected with fish, though not of the species I was after. Later, I went down river to a piece of water I had always eyed through an opening along the road. It has always been one of those gotta-try-it-one of-these-days spots and I finally got around to doing it. Once again I had the water to myself and even landed a small steelhead. Finally, I finished up the day by driving down around near Weymouth to see how all the redneck hardware chunkers had done for the morning. Sure enough, they had gotten a few and I couldn’t help but think that nobody probably fished the faster, steelhead water up top all day. I moved on towards home, content in finding a few pieces of water to myself rather than bellying up to the chew-spittin’ parking lots that mark a few of the more popular places along the river.
I had some stuff to work through in my head, which some alone time would allow me to attempt. But, as is so often the case, I didn’t find any resolution on my own, so maybe some time spent with the Copenhagen sages of Weymouth could have been an option. Still, though, there is nothing like being able to methodically work down through a piece of water without waiting for someone else to pull out, or getting cut off, or just forced to stay put. I haven’t done that in years and I suspect I’ll be doing even less in the years to come. I probably won’t be calling with stories of twenty fish days, and when it does happen, nobody will believe me. Because nobody will have been around to see it.