I went into this season a little naïve while also knowing it was going to be the start of a change. My kid was due sometime in late March, so as January of 2024 began, I almost out of habit, started stocking my boxes and preparing for spring like any other season. Deep down though I knew this year wasn’t going to play out the same. Didn’t mean I was done, but it wasn’t going to be the same.
Nothing highlights how in denial I was more than the fact I was considering sneaking a last minute permit trip to Mexico on the week of March 10th, 15 days or so before my kid was due. My wife pointed out to me that the kid literally could come any day and that she’d murder if I wasn’t here for that event. I cancelled the trip, and I’m glad I did. My kid was born 5 days later on March 15th of 2024.
For anyone debating reproducing, I’ll be honest and say its not that bad, especially when you aren’t the one that gives birth to the little person. It’s like being told there is a tray of cupcakes on the counter and don’t knock them over. You look in the kitchen every few minutes to make sure they are still laying on the counter, and as long as they are still there, nothing has happened, you’re good. If they are on the floor and spilled all over the ground, you’re done.
I did this for about a month and thought to myself Jesus Christ I am bored. It also became clear after watching a tray of cupcakes for a few days on the kitchen counter that this was a one person job……….yeah I just tried to trigger you relax and finish the paragraph. It’s a Horrible job for any one person to have- but it didn’t take two people at the same time to make sure the tray of cupcakes stayed on the counter and didn’t fall on the ground. This prompted the “talk” where I said to my wife that this was probably a good time to come up with a strategy to both stay sane while making sure the tragic spill didn’t happen. We agreed to day shifts and said it made sense to trade off days to start on weekends. My mother in law gets the true gold star for jumping on the grenade during the week. While it was undeniably greedy, I brought up as a quick secondary point, that, if she didn’t mind, I would let her know when the weather was cloudy and not that windy and maybe just raining a little and I would appreciate if that could be my day of the week, every week, during the spring months that followed. She was good with it and that was my first sigh of relief after the little burrito entered this earth. Seemed like some fishing was still possible.
As April set in, I found myself understanding some of the situations I had seen older fishing partners of mine in during prior years. Hatch was still going strong a few days and come 7pm I was thinking about how much longer I could force the issue before I had to get on the road. As the spring days got longer, I felt especially pressed as the fishing didn’t even start to get good til 8pm or later, and I was having that same dilemma. The fact is though I became practical rather than extreme. If the fishing was good, I called and begged, and usually got the “ok you can come back later see you tomorrow”. If the fishing wasn’t good, I left by choice because it wasn’t worth it to hope it got good at the 11th hour when experience told me it probably wasn’t going to happen. It wasn’t a major sacrifice. But I’ll always maintain that anyone that says they need to head out before 6pm on any given fishing day is a _____(hmm what word can I acceptably use here) and we just aren’t going fishing if that’s the schedule.
As the suicide run approach of back and forth driving became something I accepted, I considered my new reality. I questioned whether my choices on where I fished were going to change based on the fact I was getting less than a day windows, and whether I’d revert to sure bet surface fishing and practical decision making. I was happy about the fact that the urge to do that never set in. My first instinct actually was that if I have limited time might as well swing for the fences and if it doesn’t work out whatever, it was worth the shot. It felt good to reject the mindset of the person I hated before becoming a parent, even when having the perfect excuse. And it confirmed that no matter how many days I had to fish in the seasons moving forward, I was never going back to the quick fix place sucks solution.
What I came to find however was that my intuition on where to burn those days was off. I guessed wrong a lot in 2024. Less days on the water led to being off when it came to guessing on hatch progression, what flows meant when you actually saw them and got to the river in terms of fishing, and just being wrong on what would be fishing best on any given day. I can fairly characterize my season in the Catskills as being an average big fish year that didn’t have the standout fish you strive for to start each season. And you know you didn’t have one that threatened the two foot mark if you never felt the urge to measure a fish all season. I thought bugs were overall pretty good, I spread my time out, and I had a lot of days where there was consistent surface activity. I just had a year where I didn’t find the few that make any given year a standout season.
On travel trips, I fished out west a few times and hit it right once. The fact is, my first trip west this year was probably the only really good decision I made this season. I went with one fishing buddy and we followed up on a hunch that a small river we had under-estimated the last time was better than we treated it originally. The fishing was exceptional, to the point that 3 days was more than enough to leave with the feeling of being content. Drakes and Hex’s being the bugs and not another angler seen during that 3 day period. Nothing prehistoric but also no “same 17-19’’ fish I’ve seen that __________(enter name of annoying person that always lets you know they fished today and got some fish that look like the same fish they get every time for literally years now) post for years with their cool reel and net and all of the other annoying shit fly fisherman do. Being a grown ass man with a child now, I had the ability to let low 20’s fish go and not care. Didn’t want anyone in my immediate family to know I was fishing anyway.
Karma got me and this was the end of my misleading sense of redemption in the 2024 year. l forced three fishing trips after that between late June and August this past year. Atlantic Salmon fishing felt like a lost cause, with so few fish around you questioned if it was worth wasting the bullet remaining there for the trip’s duration when thinking from the mindset of “new dad” mode. Should I hang with the cupcakes maybe get back somewhere else when there’s actually something to chase here? I got two fish one morning, and never got another take the remaining 4 days. Nearly 75 hours of fishing and no signs of life other than for a mere two of those 75 hours. Figured alright I’ll blame the fish and the country of Canada- fuck em.
Two trips to the western US in July and August were mediocre too- in part due to my decision making. I was pressing by this point, I knew the season didn’t have the first class hog I needed to validate the season. I chased rumors and tested theories on water I knew little about. I rowed into ramps like a lost child. By that I mean rowing in late as hell mis-judging distance and time to get from A-B thinking the ramp is around the corner for hours after dark. I had fishing that sucked and required bailing mid float and making moves to what should have been the clear choice given the conditions that day, and didn’t find the bugs I had seen on prior years on certain sections I had previously found to be very consistent. I found a few browns that made me feel good when I landed them, but nothing that I’ll describe as forever burned in my brain.
I swung flies for steelhead out west 3 days and got skunked. I flats fished two days and got skunked.
Before the two prior skunkings mentioned above had even occurred, my fishing buddies had been having incredible seasons. My buddy Craig had landed a 24’’ brown on the Delaware on top, two 20lb fish at night, and overall had a season that is tough to beat. My buddy Toles landed a 25-26’’ brown on a dry, one that was well deserved and a long time coming after several trips of close encounters of fish of the trip caliber brown trout getting away on prior seasons. My buddy Alex landed a handful of big first class citizens over 24’’ doing everything from night fishing to streamer fishing on numerous rivers and during different times of year. All three had been striving for fish of this caliber and in deserved fashion found at least one this year. Each year all of us go to places we hope to find one at, and most years none of us do. So, on the occasions that anyone you consider a fishing buddy finds one, you have to recognize that.
The most fitting close to the season was my buddy Rich coming to New Zealand to conclude the 2024 season, and him hitting a legitimate over 30’’ brown on an iso as the fish was cruising a flat in a river that we had been rejected by fussy fish on all day. “Whoa dude look at this thing- no way I got him”. A beast of a male that you don’t often see in your life, let alone willing to take a dry in broad day light. Nothing was going to beat that fish, we both knew it as we released it. We were tired and fished hard for 10 days. Rich had blacked out in excitement after landing the fish, not realizing his glasses had fallen off. The dude was now blind even in the event he wanted to keep fishing, but there was no point. The fish of the trip had been captured; it was time to go home.
Be a pig to start every season and set the bar high. And admit when the fish of the season amongst your friend group isn’t yours. Every devoted angler deserves the gratification that comes from finding that fish that you can’t deny is special, especially after putting their time in. Just understand rainbow trout are entirely irrelevant to this discussion.