Fishing can be boring, according to some. I certainly experienced what some people would point to as the quintessential boring afternoon of fishing while on a small stream in the Poconos last weekend. My wife and I were in Wilkes Barre for her umptyish high school reunion. I snuck away Saturday to what I was hoping would be an awesome spot, and it probably is sometimes.
The water was summertime-low. The fish were scarce. I landed one small brook trout, hooked another, and caught a minnow.
I bush whacked endlessly and carefully picked my way through overgrown bogs into which I sunk to my knees.
I accidentally flushed some wood ducks and mallards.
I snagged a tree and spent fifteen minutes unwrapping my leader from it.
I said hello to hikers.
I saw a mink.
So some may say fishing can be boring, but I will point out what fishermen say: a bad day of fishing beats a good day in the office. That’s surely true every time.
