Wednesday, August 20, 2008

The Lost Weekend

Not lost, really, but never long enough. It takes me forever to get moving on Sunday, and about 4 p.m. Monday I begin dreading the return to work just about 24 hours later.

Fishing in the lake on Mt. Riga, Conn. Went to the deep line (#8) and an egg-sucking leech, and finally found a large largemouth. They seem to hiding in the depths and only coming to the surface about 30 minutes after dusk (whenever, or whatever, dusk is). Managed to get quite sunburned.













Monday in the Catskills, some bozo in a digging contraption was roiling things up in the Esopus near Phoenicia, resulting in chocolate milk downstream to the Ashokan reservoir. Between that and a rather high flow I caught nothing but more sunburn, despite the war paint.

Later on, though, in one of the tributaries, I latched into a few browns, including this squirmy little number, who jumped at a size 12 Madam X just when it was getting dark enough to start stumbling around.

The Emerson Resort and Spa in Mt. Tremper, N.Y. considerately puts picnic tables and comfy chairs out streamside. I have never seen anyone use them.

I was in a pretty dark mood, so this witticism daubed on the rock in wet clay left me bemused.










3 comments:

Tony Ventresca said...

Now that's a strange thing to scratch onto a rock. Hell. Or did the writer mean Help?

Your fishing posts are some of the best stuff you post. I always enjoy them.

Does your horror of your job mean a change is in the offing? Back to sports writing?

Hell.

TinTin said...

why the dark mood Patrick? Is it the lady troubles?

P.L. Sullivan said...

Lady troubles certainly suck, but it's just the tip of the iceberg.

I am thinking of moving to a bat cave in Tierra del Fuego, with a satellite for communications, lots of guns, a local woman to handle the minor domestic chores, AND NO NEIGHBORS.