If I become any more forgetful with age I’m in big trouble. Friends Tim Brune and Josh Gallivan and I decided to fish four miles from the house. Just incase anyone needed to bail early we each took our own cars. When we got there I realized I forgot my rod.
Last week on the Henry’s Fork I forgot my flies but was able to borrow a friend’s box. But today, neither Tim nor Josh had an extra rod. I thought for a minute about heading home to get my 4-weight Ross Rx but then realized I’d be ok. I had two beers and a fantastic cigar I received as a gift a few months ago. “Who needs a rod?” I declared.
Today was a wonderfully relaxing fall day sitting in the tall brown grass along a pristine piece of local water watching my friend’s fish. The baetis were hatching and several respectable cutthroats were rising. But they must have been wise. Between Tim and Josh, a total of six man hours on the water, only one small fish was landed. I however succeeded in drinking both beers and landed the entire cigar!
Forgetting a rod feels like you got gut punched my a fish God… never fun.