Happy Labor Day '08 (& a trout fugue)

It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation.
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth;
whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I
find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses,
and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet;
and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me,
that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from
deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking
people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea
as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball.

--Herman Melville, Moby Dick

Last Wednesday found me in extremely grim and anxious; it took a great deal of self control not to begin punching whatever was in sight. Or to begin running in some random direction until my heart burst. Maybe it was the stress of the new school year; maybe it was a random chemical imbalance. But something foul had taken posession of me and I felt like it would start to tear me open if I sat still. Eventually I slipped into something resembling what psychologists call a Fugue State.

According to the DSM-IV, this is:

* sudden, unexpected travel away from home or one's customary place of work, with inability to recall one's past,
* confusion about personal identity, or the assumption of a new identity, or
* significant distress or impairment.

No amnesia, but the distress and the travel were right on the money. The least harmful solution to the problem seemed to be to go fishing.

So, as I did the Wednesday before, I drove up to Mio to fish the evening white fly hatch and drift the river in the afternoon. It accomplished its purpose, maybe not least because the fishing was considerable better this time.

The white fly hatch Wednesday night was excellent: enough bugs to get the fish active but not so many that your fly wouldn't stand out among the naturals. Landed seven chunky rainbows and browns, and could have caught more if I hadn't switched from emergers to spinners too soon. Spinners had begun floating by and I figured the trout would quickly target those, but they took their time. After the hatch, I tossed some mice along the bank near my camp but didn't hook anything. Casting under the densely woven constellations and Milky Way glimmers overhead was reward enough, though.

The next day I drifted in The Meadowhawk from Mio to Comins Flats, landing five rainbows and one brown in the process. Hooked and lost at least as many more, and each time after a lengthy struggle. There must be a secret to netting fish on the big waters of the Au Sable I'm not privy too, though I've never had this problem there before.

Thursday's white fly hatch was meager, though a few fish came out to feed. I took one brown and one rainbow, both around 12". Way more people on the river that night. I had the bend to myself Wednesday, but I joined three others on it Thursday, and could see other vest lights along the banks in both directions.

Didn't bring the camera on this trip, sorry to say. I had other thins on my mind as I was packing up. Fortunately, I seem to have left most of them up north. I returned home calmed, comfortable in my skin. Here's to better days ahead.