So I went fishing on my own this last week, wandering about in the truck and haunting campsites both out in the middle of nowhere and in the midst of it all just up the road on Lago 3. I enjoy this time of year so much, despite, or perhaps even partially because of the change in weather. The light turns the same orange as the leaves do in October up home, while the leaves down here on the Alamos turn yellow, and the ones on the Nires and Lengas up in the hills show a deep red, like clotted drops of blood from unfortunate deer, dried on the toes of Philip’s boots every fall in Taylor county. It is cold, for sure. And the wind is blowing.
The first night out at boca camp with Paulino under the bridge there was snow. There were also big male brook trout angry enough to attack my new tube flies just at dusk. The flash from the camera makes it look as though the sky was darker than its moment was in truth, and the same goes for the photo of the big buck brown in the blurry picture taken on the cliffs at Lago Tres; legal light had not yet ended.
I even fished a couple of new lakes (new to me) that required some creative driving, and which displayed no footprints or tire tracks whatsoever on their peripheries, but produced very nice rainbows nonetheless. Also my tent karma seems not to have changed. While out on the lake one morning at dawn my dear friend Wanda’s incorrigible gelding decided it didn’t too much like the placement of my camp, apparently pitched in the creature’s own preferred bedding down place on Vasco’s hill, and he proceeded to stomp and eat the tent until I discovered him and chased him off. All the poles are broken, and the material ripped to shreds. Oh well. Yes it is cold, as I’ve said. But the colors! The colors are just amazing.
Now it’s back to the office for a while before I can get out on the water some more. Everybody who feels like it please drop me a line; I miss you all a great deal and look forward to hearing from you soon.