One minute you’re boarding a plane in Manchester, England, and within twenty-four hours you find yourself back on familiar waters as if you never left.
My week in England was an amazing one, filed with family, friends, and a little fishing. I have several upcoming posts in reference to my trip, including the incredible difference between the tackle shops over there, and a day of trout fishing that, while yielding no take, was a day I’ll not soon forget.
But for now, I have to unpack and do other somewhat responsible things. That didn’t stop me, however, from slipping out this morning to a local pond and spending a few hours casting flies.
Fall has exploded here since I’ve been gone. The trees are brilliant colors, the water clarity has increased dramatically. I caught a largemouth on my 3rd cast, using a copperhead wooly bugger, and a couple of bluegill on dry flies intended for the rising trout I observed. The trout, however, were having none of it. Small black midges are skating on the lake, and despite my best efforts to find their likeness in my fly box, I came up empty. But, it’s good to be back fishing the waters of home.
Stay tuned for a flurry of posts in the coming days.