my waders have been worn well.
not always consistently.
a season skipped.
but worn well.
they are paper thin
with neoprene booties.
i tie on my felt bottom boots.
they say we should move away from those.
we run the risk of transferring aquatic hitchikers.
stepping into the water a trickle of cold begins.
down the back of my calf. each leg.
kissing my kneecaps.
rising slowly to body temperature.
catch my breath when crotch hits waves.
give me a minute.
ready to fish.
later I slosh, slosh, slosh up to my car.
out comes the flood.
music and the road.
that’s a good day.
Went out today for a run at Lake Standing Bear Recreation Area in NW Omaha. It is located at about 132nd and Military Rd. I’ve read a few peoples posts about decent bass fishing there, and apparently it is stocked with trout. I imaging they run a little deeper here, but I could be wrong.
As my wife and I ran around the lake I kept looking at the shoreline to see what I might be working with if I try to wade it. It seems like it has a steep drop off along most of the eastern shore but there are plenty of fingers that may be shallower.
A couple of thoughts run through my mid with regard to what fish to go for.
1. whatever is biting.
2. try for the stocked trout.
3. go for bass.
4. I’m intruiged by the thought of hitting a slob carp.
I think I’ll just pick a day coming up soon and see what happens. The mornings in Omaha are much less windy so I will have to start early. I’m finishing two weeks of night shifts which mean my days are for sleeping. Maybe next weekend.
I also have to face the music and address my leaky waders one of these days. After an hour in waist high water, I am filled to my knees. The problem is, I don’t see any obvious tears. I’ll just have to hit up the seams and knees with Hodgeman repair cement.
I’ll let you know how it turns out.
metallic and sleek
shining antique gold
spotted with cocoa cigarette burns along her back
autumn maple along her side
nipping the the surface
but with tenderness
let her take the fly
with a salute
an homage to her beauty
let her run
partly my inspiration for this page’s new direction.
Check it out.
The heat rolled in last night
causing us to sweat in our sleep.
Out came the grasshoppers this morning
popping like Mexican jumping beans on the pavement and grasses.
Great Plains winds carry the hopping crazy men
off course and deliver them to the water.
Dare I take advantage of their misfortune
to fool the hasty fish?
With a slow pull and a quick roll
I send the hopper over and over
begging for attention.
I just thought I should introduce you. Wooden handle. Medalist reel. 8
1/2 length. 5 weight. Graphite shaft. I made it in about spring 2002.
I’ve got an Earplug Bug (hopper) on there that I tied last week. It is pretty darn dirty, but the fish don’t seem to mind.
Out to Chalco Hills today to get a quick hour of fly fishing in. Right when I left the apartment, it was clear what kind of success I would have. Very little.
Nebraska is amazingly windy. It never occurred to me when we moved down here that we would face such gales.
Regardless, it was gorgeous out there. I waded a length of about 100 yards. I walked with the wind. This gave me an hour worth of practicing my roll casts.
The results of today’s efforts: 0 fish. 1 pair of leaky waders. 1 happy guy. 1 tip from a catfisherman about a place called Walnut Creek where the bass are biting. Who knows? Worth a shot.
… also, it may be getting time to seal/patch my waders. this is getting ridiculous.