The Rainbow Trout scoffs at the conspicuous display of technology your hand holds as you cast the Terrestrial Ant behind the rock where the real ants fall of the banks, like lemmings to the piper.
You think to your self, “My rod has Integrated Poly Curve® (IPC®) tooling technology and Advanced Reinforcing Technology™ (ART™). Its made of Super high-modulus SCVI graphite with FRS in lower section for maximum power and strength with reduced weight.” Where’s my geek-speek lexicon?
The fish is saying, “What did you call me?”
“Its reinforced with none other than High-modulus/high-strain SCV graphite with FRS and carbon-matte scrim for unparalleled strength, durability and sensitivity. Also iPod compatible with built-in cigar lighter.”
The fish is thinking, “What’s that middle-aged blob of something hovering over the water, and casting a shadow as-big-as a Cottonwood tree? He’s holding a long stick with a cheesy looking replica of a bug I eat. Is that a hat, or a garbage can lid?”
Your mind tells you that the eight-hundred dollars you spent on this High Modulus, low bank-account rod is exactly what a fish can’t ignore. I am the piper and they are the aquatic lemmings. The ignorant fish will gladly bite on my hand-tied fly, size 14 hook, hidden by thin layers of black foam and rubber legs.
My reel is CNC aerospace engineered. Its got sealed-bearings. The kids will have to wear last year’s school clothes again this year.
The fish just want to swim with the school. One school, all ages combined.
I’ve got six-hundred dollar G3 Gore-Tex waders with a lifetime warranty. The fish says, “I can swim here all day, and if your wobbly knees, and flat-feet loose grip on the mossy rock, You’ll have those waders filled with fifty pounds of rushing water and then we’ll be seeing eye-to-eye. That eight-hundred dollar stick will be river-bottom landscape. We’ll hover over it and pay homage to Saint Croix, the patron saint of graphite rods. You will be the metaphorically speaking, “fish out of water!”
Growing up we had a “high-tech” pole made of semi-crooked bamboo. (insert bad Bible pun), Just a cane pole and still able to fish! And for bait, an old rusty hook with worms that we dug up in our own back yard. We didn’t pay $3 per Club Sandwich hopper at Cabela’s. The old pliers we carried fishing was to retrieve our only hook the ornery Bullhead usually swallowed…hook, line, and almost 8 yr old.
It was sans-reel with nothing but a stretch of fishing line tied to the end of the pole. The rich kids had Zebco 101’s. The bobber was red, white and algae blue.
It was Amazon fishing in Midwest, America.
“Filet-O-Fish” was not a fast-food term, it was my mom wielding a filet knife, preparing dinner on the back porch. The neighborhood cats were lined-up for leftovers.
Bare feet worked far better than gore-tex waders, and shorts were actually cut-off jeans that got to short anyway. Sunscreen was a large Oak Tree that grew off the banks of Lake Minnetonka. Sounds like Huck Finn gone due Nort’
Our high-dollar fishing guide was an old wooden boat-missing the oars. Just swim behind and kick our legs hard.
We caught our limit, or maybe the same fish seven times?
The Carp didn’t care. The Bullhead’s didn’t care. We didn’t care.
The worm was nervous.