Some days are tough, the fish tougher.
On spring creeks, it's the season of in between hatches.
The day starts with great promise.
Blue sky. Warm. Calm.
It doesn't last.
The bugs fail to make their appointment. It doesn't matter. If they show they'd get blown off the water anyway.
Still, one doesn't quit for fear of missing something. Maybe there will be a window. An opportunity.
So you persist.
Squalls come through. As if conditions aren't tough enough already.
But you hang in there. You've made it this far.
Four o'clock. Lunch time.
Can't call it a day yet.
Maybe the wind will lie down at dusk.
Maybe, anything. A crumb.
Just one shot.
The sun pops out, now low on the horizon.
What's that? A dimple. Up against the bank.
The fish eats on the first cast.
All day for one shot.
It was worth it.