So, here I go again. Those of you who know me know that I have many hobbies, but fishing has been at the top of my list for most of my life. It was ironic that my first blog was about woodworking, since I'm relatively new to that hobby as compared to fishing and hiking. However, in feeding my narcissistic desire to talk about myself I'm creating another blog. This will be mainly a fishing and hiking diary of sorts. If, for some strange reason, a couple of people find interest in this blog and have questions about things like fly patterns or rod building then I may do some tutorials as well. Either way, I hope that my musings may be as entertaining to you as they are therapeutic to me.
So, what's up with the title? well, those of you who know me or even know central NY trout waters probably catch the play on words. A somewhat well known trout river just north of Rome NY is The West Canada Creek.......get it? The West Canada Creek and I have this love/hate relationship going. I fell in love with it the first time I fished it. Bob (a.k.a Gaddabout) introduced me to it quite a few years ago. Actually, that was the first river we fished together. We've had some really good days on it and probably three times as many disappointing days. I caught my largest river brown trout just below the Trenton Falls dam - 24.5 inches. Ironically, Gaddabout caught the same fish a half an hour later - ok, so he wasn't a very smart fish but a beast, just the same. There's one thing I can say for The West Canada, fishing it gives me that same "coming home" feeling I get when I drive past downtown Lake Placid and see the Adirondack High Peaks in the background. You ever get that way about a special place? The sights, the smells, the sounds all comfort you like an old flannel shirt.
So, tomorrow is my favorite holiday. April first. NY state's opening day of fishing for trout and pan fish. Don and I have been trying to get out every opener for most of our lives, now. All my family and co-workers know I take it off from work every year. And for most of the years we have been fishless. But that's not the point, is it? Our lives have gotten scrambled up enough that we see each other barely two to three times a year now. But, with only a couple of exceptions, we see each other every April first. This year won't be an exception. Butternut, here we come.
tight lines,
Muddler
