emotional mercenaries………….albula vulpes

Sometime ago back the fellas and I ducked out in attempt to tangle with a few of our larger local emotional mercenaries…………………it was just one of the days where the fish seemed to all be digging trenches right to the bow of the skiff. God love ‘em when they act like this because it doesn’t happen very often.

Given the 95 degree weather and high water temps cloudy weather can be somewhat beneficial this time of year. It obviously complicates matters in a situation that is already riddled with hurdles but what can a dude do about that………

Unlike most days where one of us is scrambling between the push pole and the camera lense, we invited an extra contender, because of this my close friend Ross Reeder was able to spend a majority of his time behind the lense. End result………..some fine images.

Light was awful given the inclement weather approaching but the crustacean commandoes didn’t give a rats ass……………they were hungry which was evidenced by their ravenous behavior.

1 o’clock got ’em? Yep (as a school of sizable bones barrel up on to bar as if they hadn’t eaten all damn day)
Jeez some nice one there huh? “sure looks that way”
Christ man they’re digging hard, don’t screw it up we are losing our light “like I don’t already know this jackass, just get me the shot”
(and this is when you are saying to yourself, I better not screw this up, son of a bitch those are big bones, your palms start to sweat, the 2 minutes of waiting for the right angle and the right shot feel like 1 hour, your jerkneck buddies are going ridicule you for eternity if you blow it, knees are now slightly buckling, your thinking what a loser you are, you have caught 10,000 of these fish and yet you still pucker up like drunken catholic girl on her senior prom night………for the love of God get a grip!!)

You take your shot…………………………….

wait……wait……………long slow strip…………tight! oh hell yeah!

now your clearing your line……………thinking about how you are going to tell your buddies to shove it up their asses……then you realize “oh something ain’t right here”………………as the weight fish decides to torpedo off the damn flat like a bat out of hell

And in a split second your buddies start screaming……………….meanwhile you pucker up again…….the 12lb tippet becomes tighter than a guitar string…..you clear a few wraps off your toes then realize fancy footwork is a must……..a deep chested tribal “Son of a Bitch” comes from your lungs in the fishes general direction………

the fish finally reaches the skiff, high fives are mutually thrown….this time we win

Like many, I love these fish, the way they rumble up on flat pushing a head wake, or the famous dimple and disappear, or the slicked morning floaters, or deep water mud puffers…………..like all other fish they do have to eat to survive and it is always about being at the right spot at the right time. The general erratic nature of these fish is the drug, the drug the keeps us coming back. No matter how many thousands of these bastards we have caught, I still vividly remember nearly every fish that has touched my hand, well at least certainly the good ones.

This afternoon would prove no different……………as the fish kept paying us some much needed respect


the old el original 17.8 still getting it done………..

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