Fishing is often a boring, slow activity. I find myself chatting with other fishermen as I wait, and sometimes those conversations turn into lasting friendships. I met Chang at the side of a lake, but quickly appreciated his enthusiasm and perseverance. I was there when he caught his first fish, I netted his first bass and we learned to catch trout together. Our only connection is our love for fishing, but we still manage to plan several trout trips every year. This is a recap of one of those trips.
As the sun climbed shakily over the surrounding grass covered hills three fisherman began hiking into the Narrows of Del Valle Reservoir. The air was a biting 28 degrees without wind chill and heavy frost covered the ground. Those three fisherman freezing on the wet banks of Del Valle Reservoir were me, my father and our friend Chang. We were fishing a traditional sliding egg sinker rig with PowerBait on the end. My dad had a bubble bobber rig and Kastmaster rigged up on a different pole. We were ready to catch three full limits of chunky rainbow trout.
However, the fish and the weather had other thoughts. We still had nothing to show for our two hours of fishing. Trout fisherman know that this can be a typical day, so I settled into my chair, pulled up my hood and began to wait. However, Chang was unsatisfied with the current conditions. He made the day saving decision and demanded that we relocate to Shadow Cliffs Reservoir. Through consistent pressure from Chang, my dad and I reluctantly packed up our gear and headed for the car fishless.
My dad bundling up against the wind.
The first thing I noticed when I got out of the car at Shadow Cliffs was the numbing temperature. Shivering, I set up my rig and laid out my chair. Everyone around me was hunched inside their coats and talking about the one fish that had been caught over an hour ago. And then the wind began to pick up, with 20-30 mph gusts whipping through the canyon. The anglers around me began to shiver a little harder and their teeth began to chatter. The clouds blew over the sun, and the temperature plunged back down to a depressing 28°F.
I began to lose feeling in my hands and feet even though I was wearing gloves and heavy boots. My chilled body was centralizing blood around my core. Gritting my teeth, I sunk deeper into my ski jacket. I still had no trout to show for my suffering. Six hours later people were leaving the lake with wind-whipped faces and no fish. Chang had long ago disappeared and my dad and I were the only ones left standing on the metal dock. Dead birds lined the shoreline and my stringer lay sadly in my bag. And then Chang sprinted onto the dock screaming about two trout that he had caught. My dad and I looked at each other.
Thirty seconds later we had conquered an adjacent dock by and had deployed all available fishing poles. Since my dad had a two rod stamp, we cast a total of three pre-rigged poles into the water and nodded to the stunned anglers around us. In the meantime Chang was displaying his limit of five trout and dancing on the dock singing, "There is a new Troutmaster!" Nine hours after we had started fishing the bite had finally begun to pick up. With three rods I began to catch trout after trout. I was rapidly gaining on Chang and my five-fish limit. With every fish that either of us caught we held it up to the other, smirked, and placed it on the stringer. Finally, the sun began to plummet below the horizon and the light faded. Smiling, we placed our fourteen trout onto the dock and began to pack up our gear. While many other anglers would have left hours before, Chang's instinct and our persistence led us to the fish.
When I was a kid, the first fish that I understood were rainbow trout. I would spend hours pouring over books and visualizing in my head how the trout would interact with the changing conditions of the lake. And yet, as well as I think I understand these fish they continue to surprise and challenge me. Trout have taught me patience and self discipline. This trip tested my control and revealed to me that persistence can be the path to success. As the chirp of the crickets called out and the honks of migrating geese echoed around the reservoir, the failing sun illuminated the silhouettes of three fishermen jumping on the dock and celebrating success after a long, cold day of fishing.
A surprise largemouth bass at Shadow Cliffs.
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