Everybody’s got to have a drug. Redfish? Sure, why not?
Only got two, actually caught four, but one was marginal in the slot, right at 20 inches, the other was only 24 inches. Compared to the first two? Seemed paltry. I kept waiting for another big one, but that didn’t happen. There’s always next time.
One of the guys who didn’t make the picture, in fact, he’s back in the water now? He was about two feet long, and after I hooked him, he fought the entire length of the little slough, pulling against me, the anchor, everything.
“Would you look at that wake!” Ron remarked, “That’s a big one for sure.”
Or just a big fighter, and he’s free, so he can get a little bigger and fight some more. There is something special about holding a fishing pole while a fish swims hard enough to create a wake. Maybe not big enough to surf on, but it would be a close call.
There’s some portent in here, though, like clouds obscuring the sun’s light, since Tuesday morning, it was off to the “doc in the box” – as recommended by the front desk clerk – to get some meds for a very sore throat.
That single night time trout picture? It came after an evening on silver and gold spoons, catching all manner of little fishes. Then a “purt near” keeper trout.
