Today the temperature at dawn was under 70 and fall-time feelings flickered fitfully across my synapses. I can (with my eyes closed after ingesting powerful hallucinogens) imagine what autumn will be like. Alas, to hunger for something so distant is unhealthy, I’m certain. Summer will never beat me, not even close, but this is a bad one and there’s still plenty of it left.
I’ve done the usual stuff, perhaps ranging a bit farther afield than typical. I find myself thinking more seriously about my trips than I usually do during the lazy days of summer. I can’t really claim this more aggressive approach has done me a damn bit of good. Fishing has been average, at best.
The formal cursing of the eastern striper population seems to have had some effect, at least. Scarcely a week after I laid a curse on the striper kingdom, a new world record fish was caught. I never intended to affect saltwater fish, but the curse obviously had a broader reach than expected. I hardly think the timing of this event can be explained by coincidence. While I can’t, in good conscience, claim direct ownership of the world record striped bass, I’m thrilled to be so meaningfully involved.
More importantly, I caught a few of my own local fish. I returned to a spot where I was blanked twice last season. I got lucky with good weather–overcast with fog and drizzle. I suppose it was not an orgy of angling success, but I got a few fish to hand, and figured out some new approaches to a problematic area.
I went camping and fishing in the mountains, which is technically illegal during August, according to my personal code of angling regulations (2008 addition). But I had a hankering for something known, and someplace cooler, and JC was free the same weekend I was. We sat around a fire and drank and talked and listened to music on tiny ipod speakers. The next day we worked hard to fish a section of stream few people ever see. We caught a few wild trout, small and unremarkable. In the evening we went down the road and caught a couple stocked trout which we ate. It was the kind of weekend I had envisioned.
This is a good and unusual beer.
I admit that I’ve moved away from the core lowbrow value of cheap and unpretentious beer. This is something I’ll have to address, if for no other reason than to calm my own philosophical turmoil.