Almost the Perfect Day

All right so now that I started this BLOG thing, my mind has been racing backwards to actually write down all of these fishing moments that I’ll never recover completely. Bare with me through this whole thing, I don't promise to be a genius Creative Writer or a genius Fisherman...the only thing I do promise is to provide you with a worthy account of some local's love of Nevada.

Semi fragmented but still memorable would be a time in May 2004, when we were planning another weekend adventure to our favorite reservoir, Squaw Creek.

We rushed around assigning each other certain tasks to help ensure the proper packing order got done and got done fast enough to get an early start on the road. Honestly, I can't ever recall a time when packing was a painless task especially when both sexes are involved.

After the compromise of how much toilet paper vs. how much Beer we needed, we where off to the races for a peaceful yet highly profitable fishing weekend...

Our arrival almost seemed as if someone had planned it especially for us - it was more than P E R F E C T.

It was warm for early May and it was oddly strange that there was no wind. It always seems to be a trend with these desert reservoirs that if you don't fish in the early morning or in the early evening you might as well bait fish because there's no way your getting your line out without having to walk it out.

We parked the truck, dropped the trailer, let the dogs out and went to the water to take a look. WOW. They're everywhere. There had been a giant hatch that got these babies all kinds of jazzed up.

We dropped everything and ran back to the truck to get our waders, float tubes and fins. Um...."Where are the fins?"

"They're in the trailer where they normally are", he said...

Um..."No they're not..." We or should I say he, since that was on his list to get, forgot the second most important thing to bring when you intend on float tubing - the FINS.

OK no worries - we'll fish from shore with the fly rods and get some practice in...So there we are, cheap beer tucked closely inside our waders fly-fishing for whatever we could catch with no one around - P E R F E C T

Perfect up until he catches himself a Black Bass no bigger than 3 inches. Here's a tip for all men...if you catch yourself a 3 inch bass, try not to be a 'big man' about it and think you can pull the hook out with your bare hands, otherwise you might land yourself one hooked finger.
Three hours later all I can say is Kudos’ to the doctor for his fine surgical removal process. "Push the hook don't pull the hook" he says - words to live by.

As for the next day, we actually thought about tethering the tubes to shore just to get out a little deeper, but decided that wouldn't be the safest idea. We did talk with a few of the next days anglers, and boy-o-boy did they have a great day. 30 fish for one and 19 for the other. As for the shore fisherman, that would be us, we didn't do too badly with a total count of 16. All trout except for the one that left a permanent tattoo in my partner's finger.