If you have been fishing for any length of time, you undoubtedly have a place you would consider your home water. It is the stream, pond, lake or river you know best, the one you fish most often, and one that probably has it’s fair share of stories attached to it.
A few years ago, I moved to a different part of town. The creek that runs past my neighborhood is one that people drive by every day on their way to work. It is the very same creek that people look at me pretty funny as they see me dropping down into the water with waders and a fly rod. It is also the creek that has become my sanctuary. Yes, I can hear the cars passing overhead if I listen hard for them but on most days all of that noise fades into the background. I lose myself in feeling my rod load as my cast unfolds. I lose myself in scanning the tea colored water for a tail or a puff of mud. Sometimes I stop and look around only to realize I am a mile upstream and I don’t even remember covering nearly that much water.
Tonight I caught one undersized small mouth in almost embarrassing fashion as I did not even realize I had a take. I successfully blew up a group of carp feeding on the surface with a cast that I fubar’d as my fly landed in a heap tangled around the base of my leader. I almost wiped out mid stream in a section of deep riffles that would have made for an uninvited swim as well. I was far from my best and the fish were far from cooperative, but any night I can watch the sun set on my home water is a night that send me home with a smile.