Devil's In The Details

On days when the fishing goes south, a closer look at your surroundings can make all the difference

- T. Edward Nickens

THIS IS THE second time I’ve washed off the WAG bag’s outer surface, but it hasn’t helped the funk. I dunk it in the river, look for a pinhole tear but can’t find one, and scrub it with reeds yanked from an island. It still stinks. Two days of wilderness poop, baking in the hot Texas sun, right behind my kayak seat. There’s only so much you can do with a sack of crap.

And my aromatic seatmate is only one challenge to making a rejuvenating river float. The wind isn’t helping things, either. It’s been 30 mph sustained, with stronger gusts. And it’s coming from everywhere. Locals call them “rotors”—winds rushing through the Devils River canyon that twist and spin as they ricochet from cliff to cliff. Just when you catch a faint tailwind, the blow turns and smacks you in the face.

On the drive in, my buddy, F&S digital director Nate Matthews, and I fretted about the forecast for a big blow and getting our flies down deep enough for smallmouth bass, so we split a cheap pack of Walmart crappie jigs. That explains the redneck mash-up tied to my fly leader, a curly-tailed jig with a Woolly Bugger dropper. Izaak Walton would spin in his grave. On a soft-tipped Tenkara rod, the rig makes me feel as if I’m casting a wet cat. Poop, wind, soaked felines—sometimes, things don’t work out like you’d imagined.

CHANGE OF PLANS