** NOTE ** This is a story that I wrote and published back in 2014, in the first year of Troutbitten, on New Year’s. I’m sitting this evening with my family, on that that same couch, six years later. And I’ve touched up this story from the archives to share it again. The message holds. Happy New Year, friends.
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I had a couple hours of daylight left, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.
The pothole where I’ve found some of my biggest fish on the river was only a couple hundred yards away from the couch that I was sitting on, so I layered up and rigged up. Then I headed for the water.
Most things in fishing don’t work out the way you had them planned, but I guess this short trip got pretty close.
Nothing would move to streamers, and the water was cold and getting colder. So after a half hour of casting upstream to the left bank and another fifteen minutes of throwing downstream to the right bank, I switched to nymphs and walked down to the pothole that I’d been dreaming of.
It didn’t take long, and I was surprised by a twelve-inch brown. Fair enough. We mostly don’t consider this river to be all that productive in the winter, so any tug on the end of the line was a welcome feeling. Just a few minutes after the release, I was into a good high-teens fish that put a nice bend in the rod. Awesome.
The light of the last day in 2014 began to fade, and I reminisced a bit. It’s been an incredible year for me, full of life lessons that I probably needed to work on for some time now.
Last April, two herniated disks in my back started pinching a nerve that traveled down my left arm. After nearly a month with each day being worse than the previous, and appointments with multiple doctors, the pain was almost unbearable. I couldn’t work, fish, sleep or even enjoy time with my family. I was at an absolute low point, and I guess I needed to be that far down to clearly see what was actually important in life.
An MRI showed the doctors that surgery was my only option. And after the initial fear, I found myself relieved to be headed toward a solution.
The whole experience was really a defining moment in my life, as the reality of my human vulnerability revealed a depth in the world that I had never seen. Life after surgery was like an over-saturated photo. And each moment — each emotion — became more vivid. It opened my heart more to the love of my family and friends, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling. In the spirit of the season, I’d say that trying to see the world as I did right after surgery is my New Year’s resolution.
I moved back upstream into a position just above where I’d hooked the last fish. The pothole was about four feet wide and twice as long, and I’d saved the top part for the last few casts since there’s a very good chance of hanging up in the overhanging limbs. It’s a tough spot . . .
. . . It was a good cast. Just enough slack to allow the nymph to sink before the drift . . . drift . . . drift. Watch the line. Visualize the nymph on the bottom. Watch the line . . . hesitation . . . tick . . . tick . . . and I set the hook.
Probably my best fish since summer. Whiskey Drinker, and the last cast of 2014.
Here’s to living the next year vividly.
Goodnight 2014.
Fish hard, friends.
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Enjoy the day.
Domenick Swentosky
T R O U T B I T T E N
domenick@troutbitten.com
Really nice spending this last year fishing, reading and listening with you and your pod pals, Dom. Looking forward to what comes next!
Now I’m going to gear up and hit the Metolius on a frigid NewYear’s day with a mono rig setup that you and Troutbitten are 100% responsible for.
Thanks!
Enjoy and look forward to what Troutbitten has to offer. Happy New Year
I felt your pain, literally—more than 30 years ago I had ruptured disks that caused pain in my left arm that can only be described as having hold of hot pan and not being able to let go—for several months. Fortunately, like yourself, a surgeon was able to correct the issue. I awoke after surgery pain-free and haven’t looked back. Happily, I’ve been able to do a heck of lot of fishing, hunting, and other activities in the years since then. The waters in this part of the world are a bit too hard for casting on New Year’s Day but I make a point to get out and chase pheasants instead.
My life on the fly
I was born in the countryside to a family of coal miners. Everywhere I wandered as a boy was filled with nature, agriculture, lakes and streams. I could walk for miles without passing half a dozen houses. Children played outdoors with pretend toys, a ball and a tap and top . No expensive computers, no televisions, no telephones. Life was so simple. We all played together , looking after each other. One of the favourite pastime was fishing. Here too, no expensive rods, reels and lures. We had just a willow stick, a cotton reel, a pin and cotton. The floats were disbanded matches. The fish were small and just fitted into a jam jar. Oh how things have changed.
I still fish but own fishing rods costing hundreds of pounds , reels and lines, nearly as expensive. I am a keen Fly Angler. My rods are light, my reels stocked with good fly lines, wet and dry and everything in between. The fish I attempt to catch are much larger then the old ‘stickleback’ that fitted into jars. They are trout, salmon and grayling. I have all weather jackets, wading trousers and boots, fishing vests, light bags, heavy boat bags, landing nets, things to help lines and flies to sink at all speeds and to float high on the waters surface. The small pools and streams of my boyhood are now lakes and large rivers. Miles have to be travelled to access fishing areas rather then a short stroll through the English countryside. Although things have drastically changed the thrill of the catch is just as great.
Fly fishing is an ancient method of catching fish and although looks simple to do isn’t quite as simple as one thinks. The secret is timing,rhythm and good technique. Anyone with a little practice can caste a fly but it takes years to study water craft and the matching of artificial flies to hatching insects. The easiest thing is to get out into the countryside and enjoy the isolation, peace and quiet this brings.
Gaming fish requires excellent water conditions and breeding grounds. Unfortunately modern methods of pest control, food cultivation and industries have destroyed many of our rivers and waters. The breeding of trout has got more expensive and their habitats even more expensive to maintain. The upturn of interest in other types of fishing have led to many fly fishing still waters being closed. Owners are turning their backs on game fishing to turn to carp and course fishing. These are easier to stock and cheaper to keep stocked. As a result ‘ local ‘ fly fishing venues are becoming harder to find. As a result the younger generation are not becoming interested in the sport. My fear is carp and course fishing will lead to this ancient method being forgotten.
When things are tough out on the river I keep the old Stones tune (Gimme Shelter) running through my head, with a one-word lyric change:
It’s just a cast away!
And there’s definitely something about that last cast that seems to work just when you need it.
Holiday Cheers!
It is so hard to make that supposedly last cast your last, especially if you feel a nudge.