Tuesday, May 31, 2011

An Epic Meltdown....

The first two days of fishing were great.  Fish swirls, cast fly, set hook, reel in and net fish.

Bingo bango.

On day 3 of our trip, I melted down. 

It was the kind of meltdown that will be talked about for years.  A good "hey, remember when" will bring it back and allow myself to laugh and see how ridiculous I really was.

The morning of day three started about the same as the first two.  A big breakfast and out on the water for 7 hours of chasing Troots around Chopaka Lake.  Our group of 5 relayed messages back and forth over the radio from around the lake on their various degrees of success and after two hours, I hadn't touched a damn thing. 

I opened and re-opened my fly boxes to try and figure it out.   To the left and right of me, strike indicators (see...bobber) were slamming below the surface and Rainbows lept into the air.

My blood began to boil.

The predictable and prolific mayfly hatch began and I thought, "alright...I gots this" and I set forth giving up offerings to the rising trout.

15 fly changes and nothing.  The 16th changed produced a rise and a brief hook-up.

Then the line broke.  Fook me times 10.

I changed locations an joined my crew in the hopes that my attitude would improve.

All I got was a steady diet of watching this....

Nope....the change didnt help.

Cue the meltdown.

I ended up dropping my good flies in the drink, I snarled two leaders and continued to watch as my guys railed fish.  I did catch a few fish, even the biggest fish of the trip but I couldnt even enjoy it.

I reached into my cooler for a beer to calm my nerves and realized I just gave my last one to OMR.  As my hand grasped the apple in my cooler, all I could do was yell "FUCK IT" and lob that apple like a grenade and finally blew up my day of fishing.  All my friends could do was laugh.

As I rowed away to go finish my pity party, the meltdown was complete.  Utter Core Meltdown.

After some stupid lake troots.  Holy hell.

Thankfully back at camp, my perspective returned and I straight wore it from our group as they recounted my episode in full detail. 

Yep, I was an idiot.  I got competitive on a trip where it never should be about it.  I acted like I was 8 years old and someone stole my baseball mitt.

At the end of it all, my buddy Brian asked me "So how long's it going to take till you are over this?"  I responded with that I had already begun to laugh at myself and he informed me "good, cause I'm going to make fun of you forever about this....really, who throws an apple like a grenade?"

Well, apparently....I do.


  1. Apples make sweet grenades...especially when they are slightly rotten. ;) *(yeah, I've thrown them too).

  2. Second that for one who has thrown an apple like a grenade. Only it was out of a speeding boat at another speeding boat. I've been there Mills. Gotta have a good 'ol fashion melt down once in a while, how else will you know who your true bros are. They're the ones that will give you relentless shit for the melt down and still fish with ya from here to hell. Peace.

  3. I think I like this blog- writing, photography, beer. I'll be checking back soon. This was a little like checking the mirror before heading out fishing. FR