COMO Trout, Take 2

The problem with fishing in a popular spot is that it strips you of your excuses. When you’re flanked by dozens of anglers to your left and right, there is likely to be some good fishermen among them. Those outliers prove to the rest of us that the fish can be caught.

Had I been fishing alone on Wednesday or Thursday, I could have explained why I didn’t take home trout. The water temperature wasn’t quite right, so the trout weren’t feeding. The wind was wrong, and by the time we got there after school it was the wrong time of day.

After getting skunked on day one, I was more confident going into day two. I could really picture the boys and I catching fish. We’d caught plenty of fish before - this was nothing new for us. The first day was just practice really. Now we were ready. The weather was once again unbelievably good for February. Ann had been away at a Conference this week, and she was going to come home Friday to a fridge full of fish.

It didn’t take long after arriving at a lake on Thursday for my confidence to begin to wane. It started to go in the process of rigging the lines, baiting the hooks and making the first casts. A while later, after I had to cut Henry’s line from the tree that is on the bank behind him, and I had to retrieve Oliver’s rod and reel from the lake, where he’d thrown it during a cast attempt, I exchanged the last remnants of my confidence for dogged determination. It was fortunate that we only had a couple hours of sunlight and I wasn’t prepared to fish in dark, or we might still be out there.

The lake was crowded on Thursday, but not as crowded on Wednesday. By my casual observation I would say fewer fish were being caught on Thursday, though I don’t know if this relates to the quality of the fishing conditions or the fishermen who were present. Someone right beside us caught two while we were there, and we saw at least two people catch their limit of four.

It was a pleasant afternoon. A real bright spot was I was joined by Robert, my brother-in-arms from the previous post about the handgun range, his two boys, who are a couple my boys’ best buddies, and his daughter, who is a relative newcomer to the fishing scene. Although our collective effort didn’t result in more fish, it was more fun for everybody.

I only hope that I’m teaching my boys to fish, rather than teaching them to hate fishing. Henry loves trout, so the first day he was driven and dedicated. Halfway into the second day he was bored, and had lost all hope, even with someone a few feet away catching fish. The nearby playground was calling to Henry and Oliver both, as I compelled them to continue to dutifully man their stations on the lake shore. We’re going to have to get some trout to the kitchen soon, or the boys are going to decide that it is best just to wait for the farmer’s market trout lady to come back in the spring.