Well, got spanked this weekend courtesy of the carp spirits. Figured this comeuppance was imminent since I implied that carp fishing was easy in this post a few weeks ago.
Saturday, I found multiple pods of tailing carp. Huge carp. All grassies. Every single one. Not a common anywhere. Sitting in the middle of a few dozen tailing grass carp is akin to being trapped in an elevator with the staff of Mabel's All-night Massage Parlor and Strip Club. And your wife. Right place, right time, but so what? I cast to fish after fish with my usual PT. This has been known to work and I usually catch a few grassies every year on the PT. Not today. Not even a sniff. Set off some spectacular eruptions of spooked fish though. A pod of 20 or 30 grassies exploding in panic is pretty impressive.
Sunday, in a pathetic attempt to curry favor with the carp spirits and regain my lost mojo, I took my four year old with me to the flats. We chummed about an acre of prime carp flats real estate with premium sweet corn niblets and set up shop with no less than three spinning rigs baited up with Green Giant's best. Strung up a fly rod too, you know, just in case. Chumming has never failed to bring in hordes of commons. Today the only noticeable result was an increasingly bored four year old little boy. So we went back to the boat ramp and threw rocks in the water. Seemed like the only way to salvage the day.
Feeling kinda Kevin Baconish right now:
Operation Oregon Escape 2017
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