Mike and I had, last week, grand plans. Loads of work for him, and the first week of school for me, made them seem not so appealing on more immediate examination.

Se we’ve ate (a lot), talked, sat around, laughed, went to the farmer’s market and the ice cream shop, rode in the ‘snake yesterday, and went bike fishing today.

Zoom in to see the Lev’s battering ram (fly rod attached with Voile straps, very effective).

I’ve been thinking all summer about getting a license and going trout hunting, and this was just the kick in the ass I needed to experience an essential part of living in Montana.

I’ve got my dad’s old Orvis rod and reel, much, much nicer than the Cabela’s stick I played with last month back at my parents. I’ve done a bit of fishing with it, but none with any sort of focus in seven years.

I do like fishing small streams, and a late summer Rattlesnake Creek delivered. I had a few hits and one almost landed at or first stop, as well as a fair bit of time in the bushes untangling snarls. Catching a fish at all more than met expectations, though as we geared up at the second spot, Mike reminded me that I was still “technically skunked” for the day, having not brought one to shore. Walking down to the creek, I thought it would be fun to quickly put that to rest. So I went down, saw a picture-perfect hole under a stump, and landed this guy on the fifth (or so) cast.

Mike was great to fish with, not least of which being that he answered all my beginner questions.

Getting on past five, I worked my way through a big snarl of old deadfall and driftwood, got upstream from it, and sent a short cast down below the riffle into a big hole. I immediately got a strike, but failed to set the hook. I set it on the next cast, and landed the aforementioned fishes twin brother. A few more casts, and something big happened.

All the previous fish had been very stealth, no splashing or theatrics. This guy made his presence felt with a huge jump, and the fight was on. I had to take some time and wear him down before bringing him to shore, and getting things ready for dinner.

A good day, and perhaps a rebirth of my fishing career.