The Eternal Optimist
Confined to home where ever that may be while the pandemic takes its course, the eternal optimist, a fly fisher, goes about the business of checking what's missing from his fly box.
The empty spaces in the boxes brings memories flooding back. The first space on the first row where the Parachute Adams used to be. The upper Jamieson river with that glassy pool. The narrow bubble line traveling through it, skirting round the jagged log poking half way out into the pool and then tight against the tip of the log. In the bubble line a steady ring of a rising trout. The size of the head breaking the smooth surface is a fish to be prized. Edging gently into the pool, keeping the ripple traveling up to a minimum I fire the first cast up towards the still rising fish. Bloody hell short of the rise ring. Strip out a bit more line and cast again. Oh no, it's over the log tip and very close to the fish. So slowly I draw the line tighter thinking it's going to snag on the log but that big fish comes to my rescue. It moves forward and grabs the Adams.
I strike and feel the weight of the fish. He dives under the log and snaps the fly off. The fly line and leader comes flying back to slap me in the face.
Next space in the fly box, an Elk Hair Caddis Olive. At this rate it will be next Summer before I get my fly order to Dave and Nella.