I was twenty years old, working a fly shop job and fishing every waking moment possible. I was single, responsibility was a word that was not even in my dictionary, and my time was fully devoted to racking up as many new angling experiences as possible. I did not have much in the way of money, but the freedom to fish on as many occasions as possible made me the richest person in the world!
My 8:00pm departure to a lake that had been on my list for years would leave me arriving somewhere around 3 in the morning. As I rolled in, I was physically too tired to set up camp but mentally too excited to sleep. I knew there were rainbows over ten pounds swimming in the waters not 100 feet in front of where my vehicle was parked. I grabbed a beer from my six-pack that had dialed itself down to room temperature over the duration of the drive, and broke out my fly tying kit. Sleep was not in the books anytime soon.
After a short cat nap, I woke up at 6:00am feeling as though I had just won the lottery. It was getting light outside, the sound of a loon on the lake was the only thing breaking the silence, I quickly unloaded my one-man pram and got my rods set up. I rigged a #10 Polar Chenille Leech on one rod, and a #18 chironomid pupa on the other. Each stroke of the oar brought me closer to the fish I had spent so many nights dreaming about, it was finally here.
Little did I know, Mother Nature had other plans for me. A wicked storm rolled in by 9:00am and I was chased off the lake after breaking off one fish that was in the 8 pound range. Nobody in their right mind drives 7 hours to fish for a day and a half, but I never said I was in my right mind at the time! Almost a full day was sacrificed to the elements, with brief attempts to fish being shut out by the inability to anchor in the gale-force winds. A can of soup and the rest of my six-pack was an acceptable dinner at that age, and I went to sleep with high hopes.
The next morning I awoke to the sound of wind trying it’s best to lift my vehicle off of the ground. I texted my boss and asked if I could buy myself another day, but I was needed back at work and had to make it happen today. The conditions let up a little bit overnight, but overall it was nothing short of miserable. One hour, two hours, then three hours went by without a fish hooked up. Occasionally I would hear what sounded like a sumo wrestler doing a cannonball from the high dive, only to remember it was just another double digit rainbow crashing the surface. This was a sound that I had almost gotten used to by now.

2 Responses
Len Bevaart
Now you have been spoiled cause now all you want is another ten plus pound fish . same thing happened to me now I don’t fish lakes unless I know there are ten pound fish in it .
Len Bevaart
Man I know that lake well .