Mid-Summer Update

What does an artist do when his muse has wandered away?  Not that I consider myself much of an artist, mind you.  My writing is the equivalent of finger-painted sheets of butcher paper in the world of visual arts.  Mom, can I hang this on the fridge?  Speaking of hanging stuff on the fridge, Mrs. Fading Angler and I took a couple of courses together in college.  When she did much better than me on a particular exam in Engineering Physics II, the professor told her to take the graded exam home and hang it on the fridge.  She did.

So, let's do an update on my current medical condition.  The summary should sound familiar: I am SO ready for my first follow-up appointment at the Mayo clinic in two weeks.  I could whine about how I'm limping around and how my hands hurt like crazy when I'm trying to fall asleep at night, but it's better to focus on the fact that the Deep Brain Stimulation implant has removed the very worst of my Parkinson's symptoms: neck pain.  And I am very, very grateful for this, because it means I can work.  All the rest is just inconvenience.  No other surgical side-effects or problems.  I like being part of that statistical category.

Normally, I'd also have written more about fishing.  I've even had a few adventures to write about.  In early June I wandered up for an afternoon at Troutstock 2017 aka "EddieFest" just south of River Falls in Wisconsin.  I finally met the legendary dude called Trapper and even fished with him for a while.  I'm sure he was impressed by my expert technique at falling down in the creek.  Later that day, I got to meet Nick Brevitz and thank him for exchanging text messages.  And then there was this crazy guy called "Shebs."  Bottom line on that outing: it was a long drive 2 hours each way, all in one day) but very cool to meet a few folks.  A few weekends later, I wandered over to Trapper's home territory around Viroqua, WI.  He'd partied like a rock star the night before, but we eventual met up for a couple of Spotted Cows (New Glarus Brewing) at one of his usual haunts.  Nice trout territory.  "The heart of the Driftless..."

Speaking of rock stars, last week was a hoot!  Mrs. Fading Angler purchased a couple of tickets to Roger Waters (formerly of Pink Floyd) "Us + Them" tour for my birthday (or maybe it was Christmas...?)  We had dinner before the show downtown St. Paul at McGovern's pub and then enjoyed some classic Pink Floyd tunes.  Pretty good set list and great visual effects, which I expected after his revived concert version of "The Wall" back in 2010.  

The next day, I hopped a flight to St. Louis for another concert.  A friend's wife had bought him a pair of tickets for Guns n' Roses "Not in This Lifetime" tour, and she preferred that he find a friend to take to the show.  I can honestly say that for the first half hour, I was trying to decide if I was watching Axel Rose or Carrot Top.  No doubt that guitarist Slash held that show together.  The instrumental rendition of "Wish You Were Here" was amazing. But I can see why the Rams football team left town for L.A... The dome was old and tired, and they ran out of beer.

And now back to fishing... (This blog post is brought to you by Ritalin and Straterra, treatment for ADHD.  Do not take them if you are allergic to them.  Possible side effects include addiction, acting out Bevis and Butthead cartoon scenes, temporary blindness, and yeast infection.  I just made that up, so don't quote me.)

I've been a bit down on myself in the angling department lately.  The last couple of weekends of fishing at the Mobile Hotel® have been discouraging.  I'd done tremendously early in the season, pulling fish out of spots in the campground where I'd never caught them before, even walking away from a few places where it was "just too easy".  Then nothing.  Is it my technique?  Am I not using the right flies?  Are they just seeing too many people to be willing to feed here?  The one bright spot was an afternoon at a familiar hole.  Just as I was about to give up, a couple of fish started feeding on the surface.  I tossed a caddis fly at them a couple of times.  No takers.  A different caddis fly wasn't any more tempting.  They continued to feed while I tried fly after fly after fly.  Finally, I was down to a size 20 (tiny!) Griffth's Gnat.  Just a small puff of black that I had no hope of seeing 25' away where the fish were.  I made my first cast.  A fish swirled.  BAM!  Very rewarding.

I really hope the fish down there start feeding on terrestrials (imitations of grasshopper, beetles, and other crawling bugs) soon.  Every post I see from Headhunters or the Missouri River Lodge about the dry fly fishing on the Mo' is driving me slightly mad with envy.