Experience has driven home the lesson Never Predict Anything, just when you think you can’t miss, fate finds a new way to humble you.

The converse is true when some terrible calamity happens early, like forgetting your fishing rod. Then all hell busts loose and the fish commit suicide, with you grinding your teeth, and some other angler the beneficiary.

I should have known something was going to happen when I pulled on my waders and saw my pants leg where my waders should be. My own fault, as I had grabbed an old set not knowing what I was going to be wading through.

I was about a mile and half from my house on the maiden foray into “Effluent Creek”, figuring evening would be a good scout trip. This is actually lower Cache Creek, it doesn’t resemble much where I fish it, but it’s close, has water, and may hold something with fins.

I had done the initial investigation last week, mentioned in an earlier post.

Now I was equipped with a rod, and a fist sized hole in my waders, about 18″ up the calf. It was about 100 degrees out, so the left pants leg full of water was welcome.

With about 30″ of water under the far bank, I started flipping nymphs under the alder branches. I spooked some large carp in the process, figuring they would be fun to catch. After leaving a couple of nymphs in trees I felt like I was really fishing.

After landing the first fish, I felt even better, smallmouth bass, about 5″ long. Smallmouth? This creek shows promise…

I have a bonafide fishery in my backyard, and victory smells like a #14 Olive Birdsnest.

Say hello to my little friends, I was wet – but they were hungry.

Tags: cache creek, smallmouth bass, bluegill