Let's face it, we all get our backside whooped by the fish every now and again. You can look at it as part of the process and smile. Sam Baycock does.
Packing up the car, it’s dark, I’m cold, and I’m filling out yet another blank catch return. That has been the story for the last two years fishing this meadow stream, which for my own sake shall remain unnamed. I’ve probably tried to tempt these wild fish at least eight times across the last two seasons. I know the fish are there, I’ve seen them, I’ve missed takes, but have I managed to pull any of them over the net? Nope.
It’s strange, because every time I drive up to this skinny little stream, I often ask myself “Is this a good idea? Should I just go somewhere else?” But before I know it my tokens are in the box and I’m rigging up. You’ve heard sayings like “the tug is the drug” and I thoroughly agree, because when you’ve hooked into a fish there is nothing else in the universe more important than what is on the end of your line. So if this feeling of narrow-mindedness, only concerned with what you’re connected to, is what we search for, then why do I keep going back to the place where I have never experienced this?
I’ll never forget the first time I fished this river. I was fascinated that such large brown trout could live in this skinny water on the edge of a cattle field, right on my door step. I fished late, way into the summer haze when you could just tie a knot at 10:30pm. This was the magic hour, a large dry fly was sent into my favorite pool and was smashed instantly. I missed the take. I didn’t get another chance.
“Still haven’t landed a fish, still smiling”
There is no such thing as a bad blank in my opinion, you’ll always learn something, experience something or see something that you wouldn’t have if you just stayed at home, fish or no fish. I probably know this beat better than some guides by now, every pool mapped out in my head and all the fish holding spots logged into my brain. So why do I keep coming back here? Why bother? If I don’t catch anything I wont be able to brag to my friends, nor will I have anything to post on social media. I’m drawn to this river by the challenge, I know the fish are there, and I know I can catch the same thing on other waters, but it’s the magic of the unknown. Will I finally tempt one of these fish today? Is this finally the session where the fish that have haunted me for two years will slip over my net and will be captured forever inside my camera? I could just go to another river for the same fish, but it just wouldn’t be the same.
“One day I might tempt one of these fish, maybe I won’t, but sometimes I don’t really care”
I guess this is why we fish. Sure you can revel in the sunsets, hatches and wildlife but the thought that you might finally land the fish you’ve been searching for is what keeps us going.