Also, it makes me realize just how much a "good day" is a relative thing, even in terms of catching, with all notions of "getting out of the office" and "reconnecting with nature" as side benefits. When I go to one of the two trout streams I hit most often (I feel I'm still too new into fly fishing to have true "home waters"), a true good day in terms of catching usually sees me land at least 2-3 trout, depending onhow long I stay out. For me, its not about catching huge numbers of trout, but catching, for me, certainly is a part of it.
Now that I'm starting to use dries, I'm missing a lot more strikes...or maybe I'm missing the same amount of strikes, but now I just notice it. Either way, each refusal and missed strike, at this point, is as encouraging as it is frustrating. On one hand, yes, I've failed to connect with yet another fish, failed to put it all together with a good cast, drag free drift, line mends, slack management, hookset, etc. Somewhere along the line, I failed to get things just right and the result was a fish that didn't come to the net. On the other hand, each refusal and missed take is an encouragement to me, because it shows me I've at least got something right. A refusal usually means that presentation, the approach, cast, and drift, were satisfactory, acceptable if not great, but the fly itself was objectionable to the fish in some way. A missed take means, usually, that either I was allowing too much slack, or wasn't paying attention. Either way, it shows I'm slowly but surely learning.
But getting back to the tournament...why is it that the fish have a knack for putting us in our place? (Apparently, for the Scots, that place is third place.) I've heard it said, simply, that, "The fish are always right." And I believe that describes the tournament situation better than any analysis anyone could give. For whatever reason, the fish liked the offerings of the other fishermen better than those of the Scots. Its the same reason a fish will ignore, or even dodge away from, the lovingly rendered flawless imitation of the most prolific nymph in the stream, only to rise to a #12 royal wulff or clamp onto a hot pink wooly bugger. Its why fish consistently confound scientist and anglers alike who preach that each time a trout feeds, its a careful calculation, balancing calorie intake versus calorie burn...until they start ignoring the plentiful nymphs and charging across the stream and leaping into the air for emergers. It's why, on any given day, the rank amateur has a truly plausible chance at showing up the seasoned vet. Why, although we can get damn good at this, noone's yet mastered it. And ultimately, the quest to hook a few more is what hooks us in return, and keeps us coming back for more.
Though a bottle of fine scotch whisky and those two ladies in the plaid skirts make a pretty good incentive too..
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