November is here already.
I mean where did the #@&#!! summer go.
This past summer jut went by like a flash, and there was me thinking that I’d have the whole summer and fall to go fishing whenever I felt like it.
Of course I was working at Fort Steele and they did shut down fishing because of the warm weather and low water levels. There’s always next season.
Besides, there are all sorts of things I can do to get myself through the next five, long, cold, miserable, did I mention long and cold, months.
Not that I plan on spending too much time outdoors in the cold and snow – not if I can help it.
Maybe I’ll go through some of those old fishing magazines that I picked at the thrift store and haven’t quite got around to reading… yet. Or maybe I’ll start fly tying again. It’s been a few years now since I tied any flies. As I recall there was always something quite special about catching a fish on a fly that you had tied yourself.
I know I won’t have to look too far for things that I could do around the house. There’s that bookshelf that I built to hold the magazines that I picked up at the thrift store – the one that didn’t exactly fit where I wanted to put it and have been meaning to move into the bedroom where the television use to be – ever since I decided that there isn’t anything worth watching on TV and dropped it off at the thrift store. I think that was the same day I picked up all the magazines.
Then again I could phone Cory and see if he wants to go to one of those outdoor shows that take place in January.
We both just like to walk around and look at all the new high-tech gear and talk to all the tech reps and sales people. I like it when their eyes light up because they think that I just might be in the market for a new rod or reel.
Mostly I just pick up brochures from all the fancy fishing lodges that I know for sure I’ll never be able to afford. I’m sure it really irks the lodge owners when they see a guy like me helping myself to one of their expensive brochures. But you never know – I mean I could win the lottery.
Maybe I’ll head on down to the local tackle store and join “the gang” for coffee –even though I don’t actually drink coffee.
I could join them in the time-honoured tradition of telling fishing stories. Even if I lie my head off, none of them will question me, least-wise not to my face. They have a certain respect for the art of telling a good fishing story.
Maybe I’ll start that fishing journal I’ve been planning on writing for that past few years with all the sort of things like times and dates, insect hatches, patterns used and fish caught.
The problem is, I didn’t really do a lot of fishing this past summer or the last few years for that matter. Maybe next season I’ll get out more. I can start it then. One thing for sure, I’m going spend a lot more time out in my boat, just sitting out there and relaxing.
Of course I could head over to the thrift store and see if they have any more new fishing magazines.
All I know for sure is that some day, I’m going to be able to drop off a pretty good load of magazines at the thrift store myself.
I might even drop off that stupid shelf that I made, the one that doesn’t exactly fit where I wanted to put it and have been meaning to move into the bedroom where the television used to be.
