ZizzBang

  Hello all and thanks for checking in. As most of our readers know as a youngster I was quite the connoisseur of fireworks. I wrote a little last year about my favorite firework of all time but it seems that my dirty minded readers took my story the wrong way. This blog will talk about my second favorite firework growing up but most of my readers might find it boring because it is clean. I found my way to the river yesterday for a little “afternoon delight” and the first hour the river was being totally disagreeable. I finally hooked and landed my first fish of the day, a healthy 17 incher and quickly after landed about an 8 inch dink. I continued to walk up river and felt like the river had just gone dead again and decided to try and look for signs of big browns. Clarity was poor again so sighting was difficult. I came across one run that looked hopeful and ran a drift through. My indicator exploded across, and before I knew what had happened I heard a quick buzz and then a pop. I know it was quick but what I felt was maybe the finest fish I had hooked on all year. I GOT SCHOOLED…No question about it, I bent over and put my hands on my knees and my guide voice started rattling in my head “don’t drop your rod tip, give him line, we buy expensive rods and reels in order to catch fish like these”. I was heartbroken and then like most amateurs, I retied and wasted the next ten minutes fishing the same spot “please take it again” nope, nada, noway, maybe come back tomorrow.

 As I stood in that spot trying to get another take I began to feel a little guilty about the times over the years where I have found myself explaining to clients what they had done wrong after losing fish, as if they didn’t feel bad enough as it was. Anyway, I started replaying what I had done wrong and here is where the firework of yesteryear comes into play. The firework was called the ZizzBang, it was a tiny rocket that made a quick Zizz sound and then it would explode. I think even in those days I remember thinking how dangerous they were because we never knew the direction they were going to fly before exploding. It was like playing tag with the loser getting skin grafts. That sound though; zizzzzzz and boom, my line, reel and flies made those exact same sound, and the pain of feeling like I just got schooled by my biggest fish of the year was like bouncing one of those rockets off my earlobe.

 I moped back down river ruing my glory moment and that sound kept echoing through my head. I decided to jump into another run and started hooking up on a regular basis. I think I landed three more and the burn from the explosion began to fade. I was hoping the thought of the loss would be gone but it never really left my brain last night. I sat down to write last night but the pain was just too great. Zizzzzzz and boom, I know it won’t be the last time I hear it, the scar should fade and the healing process is beginning to kick in, I think I know what I’m doing this afternoon. As always, Connell, Cat, Winston, the Blackcat company, and the Drift Fly Shop want to thank you for reading…….