One morning last week I pulled over as I was passing Bass Lake and stood for awhile remembering. I don't fish this lake much anymore, but I've spent many happy hours here in years past with Jeremiah and his friends. It was their favorite swimming and fishing hole, and the memories are good. I count myself lucky to be able to drive past it several times a week, seeing the beauties of every season of the changing year reflected in its surface.
There's another lake I won't see again until Spring, so early this week I drove through the glowing orchards up to Cutthroat Lake. My purpose was to take my leave for another season. I don't fish this lake as often as I should, but when I do go there it's a special treat, especially when its possibilities become reality and I behold one of its glorious Cutthroats in my net.
When I arrived it was just me and the other turkeys.
I was hoping for some late season dry fly action, but that was not to be. So I trolled in between prospecting with a muddler. I saw a fish as it swam under the float tube, and I saw a few rises. I even got a nibble once--just a couple of pecks.
My guess is that fish was saying goodbye to me as I was saying goodbye to the lake--with a "better luck next time" thrown in for good measure. I appreciate it, and I'll be back to take up the challenge again next Spring.