Birthday Surprise

You know your life is pretty peachy when an unexpected package shows up on your doorstep, a long, 4" square package. And, even though it's a plain, unmarked package from an unknown address, as an angler you know what's in it. That old familiar shape that says, "you've got a rod!"

My buddy Nick had been talking about the new Moonlit rods he's been testing out and catching a lot of redfish, speckled trout and bass with. He's also been testing, and catching the majority of those fish, with the steady stream of flies I've sent him, no strings other than some honest feedback.

When he mentioned I might like the 8'2", 6 weight model, there's been talk of a quick-shot streamer rod, I shrugged it off thinking "that would be nice, but a new rod isn't in my immediate future".

Then a few days later the box showed up. When I texted Nick his reply was "Happy Birthday".

Hot damn!

I got out and lawn cast the, sleek, burnt orange rod. I normally won't take the wrapper off the grip of a rod until I've had it for a while and feel like it's something I'll want to use. The wrapper came off the grip after 4 casts, the last of which I stepped off at 72'.

But then there's always the question of how it will handle casting with a heavy fly in addition to the line weight. This morning I got a chance to test that.

Living in the City of Billings has its perks, one of which is a surprising amount of bass and carp fishing for being within viewing distance of the Rocky Mountains, something that's a welcome perk when all the rivers in the vicinity are in the "chocolate milk" stage of run off. I chose one of the bigger ponds in the area because of the carp possibilities knowing a chunky carp would tell me what I wanted to know about how the Moonlit rod would handle a formidable fish.

I will admit that it didn't start out well. Graphite has been my fly rod material of choice for over a decade. My go-to 6 weight has been a self-built, 9' St Croix Legend Elite since 2010. It's a thunderstick with the power of a cannon, and the speed of a sling shot. Adjustment had to be made, but once they were I was firing 60-70 foot casts with relative ease, just at a slower pace.

The trick with a new rod, especially one with a completely dissimilar action to the rods you're used to, is to let the rod speak to you. Forget about the last rod you spoke to and just listen with your hand. The Moonlit spoke.

The outing was looking like a walk around the pond with a fly rod. The carp were in that ever too frequent F U mood, that mood when they seem to say "I've saw better than that from the 10 year old with worms man, come on!" they give you the fin and skedaddle for deeper water. 10 shots, 10 misses. That's fishing.

Giving up on the golden frustraters of freshwater fishing, I switched to my new old standby a Scimitar Minnow, it catches everything, except the F U carp. A couple small bass grabbed the 3/0 fly but couldn't quite get it in their maw around it. There had been quite a bit of commotion in an area of adjacent to some cattails all morning. I'd blown that shot the first time I approached by sliding on a substantial pile of goose poop, they're beautiful birds but man what a mess they leave! Anyway..........

With a "what the heck" attitude I laid the scimitar out beautifully, just to see if anybody was still home or they had drifted out deeper with the thinning of the clouds. Somebody was home, Mr Smallmouth. Unaware of the presence of smallmouth bass in this pond, I was surprised by the fight this fish put up, until I got a really good look at it and realized it was old Mr Bronzeback!

The Moonlit rod did a great job of handling what turned out to be a substantial smallmouth, especially for a shallow pond. Quite the extension to a great birthday. A new rod, another personal species caught on the Scimitar and my very first bass in Montana happened to be good sized and a smallmouth.

Despite what's going on across the country, life is pretty peachy, if you can just shut out the noise and get on with a little relief for a while.

Peace, Love & Fly Fishing,

J Wood

Looking Out

Well it's day, who knows how many days since the Corona virus took over our collective attention. Things have moved pretty fast, the world is in a most unusual state, fret and concern are likely for all of us today, no matter how hard we try to stay focused on positive thoughts, there will be at least a moment where reality says hello, and some type of worry will cross our minds. The trick is to not let worries set in.

This morning I woke up with it, angst. Things are changing, how will we keep up? Who knows? But we will, we always do, there's no other real choice but to press on and adapt as a society, as families, as individuals.

As I look out the window it occurs to me that the snow which has fallen overnight isn't any different than it was last week, or last month. It drifts into the same places I've seen it drift since we arrived here in Montana last summer. The crocus and lilies, responding to the warm spells we've experienced are peeking through the morning's snow. Neither the snow nor the spring plants are aware of what's going on in the human world. The birds, squirrels and rabbits are oblivious too, they care nothing for economies, possessions nor do they fret about death, they're just alive.

Gary, a friend who worked nearby, used to visit me every morning for a few years when I had a taxidermy business in Fort Worth. We would sit and drink coffee before the rest of the crew showed up and he would head to his job. He was a pleasant, older man, ready and about to retire at the time. Most mornings were filled with laughter and story telling. One morning Gary showed up uncharacteristically grumpy, unexcited about the project he was faced with for the day. The finches I kept in my office were being exceptionally chatty that morning, they got that way as soon as the light came on and the cage cover was lifted.

Gary kept staring at the finches, his facial expression alternating between joy and anger. Finally after only about 10 minutes, a third of our normal morning time he stood up, look at me, looked back at the cage full of excited little birds and said "those damn things sure are happy this morning" gave a long pause fighting back what I imagine were a few choice words.

As he headed for the exit he turned and said "It's because they don't have to go to damn work."

The next day Gary showed up and apologized for letting, what he called work worry, get the best of him. "No problem" was my reply. I was thinking I wish I possessed his self-control.

He went on to explain his philosophy of getting through tough days. It involved looking beyond immediate worries to focus on the long-term, big picture, and that in the end we all meet the same final fate on earth. The jest of his philosophy is that as long you're still alive, you haven't met your end. Then he paraphrased, or more correctly butchered this quote.

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end." a quote often attributed to John Lennon. Not sure if he did say that, it sounds like him, but we can't ask because he's no longer with us. It's a good quote that sprung up a few years ago in a movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

I lost touch with Gary about 20 years ago. I was busy going to damn work everyday, just trying to survive in a world moving too fast. I didn't think much of it at the time though that morning is firmly etched in my mind.

Now, looking out the window at the morning snow, I wonder if Gary is still going to damn work everyday.