As soon as the Clouser began to rocket forward a wind came from out of nowhere and blew it a good fifteen feet to the left of the fish and I let a four-letter word fly. Not that I would’ve caught either one of those fish, but a bad cast only adds insult to injury. Then the unexpected happened.
. It’s really something when you realize that there’s riots and viruses spreading all over the country and you’re disappointed in having to fish the Adirondacks instead of the Outer Banks. I guess that’s how I know I’m truly disconnected from the rest of the world at this point. But the disconnection is on purpose, so I guess I was right where I wanted to be, body and mind.
He’d told me once the history he knew of the lake, and when you have no other proof but the story coming from your grandfather, you have no reason to question it. You take it as fact, ignoring the fact that all fishermen lie, tell tales, or in the least exaggerate. I never knew him to do any of these things, so I hold what I remember him telling me of this place as fact for no other reason than all grandfathers know everything when it comes to fish and lakes.
The way I see it, if you’re catching small fish, it’s better than missing a couple big fish and not catching anything at all. So at least starting with small fish is a good place to begin. I’ve always thought that you need to catch your first fish before you can catch the rest. It sounds blatantly obvious, I know. But in my head, I always tell myself after the first fish that now it’s got fish stink on it. Now, it’ll work.