This weekend Sharon hosted a mother-daughter scrapbooking sleepover party. Naturally I spent Saturday night outside on the deck, and Sunday morning getting the heck out of Dodge.
I decided to head out early this morning and go fly fishing. I still had yet to catch a *real* trout in the Grand River since taking up the sport a couple years ago. I spent about an hour Saturday night tying a couple flies, neither of which turned out all that great but they were passable, and got up at 6am this morning and headed to Fergus. I managed to get onto the river shortly after 7am and after the first couple of hours I figured it was going to be a typical day of me casting in vain trying to locate a fish. And then it happened. I got a bite, and all of a sudden I found myself fighting a fish! After a few exciting minutes worrying that I would lose it and not be able to take a picture to prove that I actually hooked one, I landed this small (but HUGE in terms of building my confidence as a fly fisherman!) trout.
The best part was the fact that I caught it on one of the flies I tied the previous evening! Sweet.
I think I learned a lot today so hopefully the next time I hit the river I will have a better chance of catching another (hopefully bigger) fish. Oh, and I threw this guy back so he can grow a little for the next time Sharon's uncle comes over from Scotland! ;-)