Me, Myself, and I

None, nada, zip, zero. That is not the number of fish I caught, it’s the number of fish I saw. It made no sense, a complete head scratcher. All the necessary elements of good trout water were there - clean mountain run-off, gravel beds, flow, bends, pools, structures…and bugs! Yet there I stood in that mountain stream literally by myself. Okay, yes there is the obvious and I freely admit I am far from a good fisherman. However, I know enough as to what makes good trout water and this was it. 

Resigned to the fact that my casts were drifting on deft waters, I got up close to the crystal clear pools most likely to contain residents. Not spooking anyone with my steps, I peered closely down into the darkest parts of the pools. There?!? Nope, just a branch getting pushed by the current. THERE! Wrong again, just the swirl of woody debris on the sandy bar. I pushed my hat back and rubbed my chin. Why the hell weren’t there any fish here? Didn’t they get the memo I came for quintessential alpine fishing? 

Turns out it was I who didn’t get the memo. 

On vacation, the water is too cold here. See you in September. 



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