It was a wonderfully wet Wednesday, and my husband was able to come home at 3:30. It gave us a little more than an hour to go fishing before dinner. According to our weather station, the rain was a tendency, not a condition. Rain was likely, but not yet. Not until we arrived at the pond.
We had the cynical foresight to arrive in full rain gear. One fellow, looking cold in a light denim jacket, passed us on the trail on his way back to his car. In his hand we could see a large trout in a plastic bag. This looked promising.
And it was, only the fish were smarter now. Their senior comrade had been captured. He had probably diddled on the line and failed to disengage from the skillfully played hook. Timing is everything for fish and fisherman.
I had two diddlers, a fairly large trout and a slightly smaller one. Vic had two as well, both medium size. One of my lure shoppers jumped in a sweeping arc to make his escape. The other simply let go, probably having only nuzzled the hook, somehow avoiding the barbs. Trout are canny.
After dinner we spent the rest of the evening drying our clothes and my rain-resistant parka and urethane-coated heavy nylon backpack. But hey, that’s just another aspect of the challenges of fishing: fishing the rain.
A good time was had by all.