Fishermen have enough foibles, fears, and superstitions to keep a bevy of psychoanalysts at our beck and call. The only redeeming facet of our personality is that we’re upright and functional – or we appear that way.

My personal demon this week is the unnatural fear I’m not even close to solving the “Golden Salmon” riddle, and the bulk of the fish may have been foul hooked rather than ate what I threw…

It’s 106 outside, giving me plenty of time to mull events – and I can’t shake the feeling that last week’s “hooked 3 – landed 1” and this morning’s “hooked 2 landed none,” are suspicious.

I’d be happy to trade for anorexia nervosa, at least I could shed some flab while curled in the fetal position.

Carp have the world’s greatest mouth, thick and rubbery – and once you plant a hook in there it’s tough to get out. “Hooked 5 and landed 1” sounds like Democrats claiming Sarah Palin lacks experience, hoping nobody mentions Obama in the same breath.

This morning I was on the creek at dawn as it’ll be too hot to fish later. I dutifully flung experimental flies at bubbles and hooked up with two fish, both were short lived. The image at left tells the sordid story, a large scale from the back of the fish impaled on a flesh colored San Juan Worm.

It’s what you get for throwing weighted flies in the path of a large slab of meat, in water the color of a military vehicle.

Unfortunately any real trial is going to force me about 4 miles up the creek, where the Carp feed in cleaner water – that way both of us can be assured that the bug was eaten cleanly.

The Clam pattern looks good, retaining it’s profile when wet – the bead forces the Bernat Boa material to keep it’s 3D shape.

So far it’s claimed only one small bass and a Pikeminnow – so I keep fiddling with colors and unnecessary gimcracks to keep me thinking positively.

I listened to both political conventions while adding another half dozen really oddball things to try. I guess the promise of a “Chicken in Every Pot” unleashes the imagination – as both groups insisted they could fix the economy, the Iranian Menace, Social Security, and anything else that ails you – with a 30 minute speech.

The temperatures are supposed to drop to the mid 90’s tomorrow, so I’ll have a shot at the clean water without melting.

I’ve got 3 colors of worms – three sink rates, plus some Clam modifications, some strange color combinations – and a couple other tricks I’d like to try.

I ordered a 2 liter hydration pack this week to assist me through the searing heat of the riverbed; gravel reflects much of the temperature back at you – and the proximity to water means you’re sweating profusely at the same time – and if you’re not, you’re in big trouble.

No sense letting the Carp win due to my premature demise …