Among other things, my friend Matt is a whitewater boater – definitely what I would classify as an extreme sport. However, he insists that he enjoys the reflective nature of fly fishing enough that he occasionally joins me on the calm water for an adrenaline-less morning of fishing.
Matt is not a “fisherman,” that is, not someone obsessed with catching fish, but I finally decided that I couldn’t watch him cast flies to empty water any longer. So, I took him out to the river with a spinning rod and a tub of nightcrawlers, a guaranteed recipe for success. Sure enough, Matt spent the whole morning hooking and unhooking hungry sunfish:But Matt’s had a big summer; he and his wife are having a baby this fall, and Matt just successfully defended his thesis. He is now a Doctor of Mathematics! Bluegills just don’t do these events justice, so I took Matt out for a morning of big game hunting – a.k.a. carpin.’ I landed one fairly big fish, and Matt landed the second:
To be totally honest, I hooked this fish on a San Juan Worm, but I handed off the rod and Matt did all the manual labor – playing and landing this nice specimen. In the end, I’m not sure who had the bigger smile, him or me.