I don't want to talk about salmon fishing.
Sometime around '76, a friend and I went up to Lake Sebago, ME, on a land-locked salmon expedition. As soon as we set up camp, it started to pour as if a dam had burst over our heads. We fished all day for three days in the often pouring rain. Nothing except about 10,000 bites FROM THEM DAMNED BLACK FLIES!
On the fourth day, the rain subsided to a light drizzle. And we were still fishing. And still nothing. We had tried every fly, lure, and fresh bait that existed. Still nothing.
Well, around 9:30 on the fourth morning, some kid parked himself about 50' away and started throwing rocks in the lake. My friend, hoping to spare his life, acted quickly and asked him to stop.
Next thing the kid did was pull out a handline with a weighted bobber with a hook and canned corn for bait.
Within 5 minutes, the kid pulled in a salmon that had to have been in the 6 - 8 lb. range.
We packed up our gear and broke camp. Just as we checked out at the Ranger's station, the sun burst through the clouds for the first time since we had arrived.
I know that experience was a message for me .........
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