Goddamned tricos.

Who cares if its pretty, I'm tired.

There are few things that make me get up at the asscrack of dawn, and one of them is tricos, the tricorythodes genus of mayfly. For what its worth, they're so annoyingly stupid, they only get me to do it about once or twice a year.

Oh, sure, its a big deal hatch 'round here, coz we got the blighted little fucks in spades. Shit, the Little Lehigh is well known for its big spinner falls of the things, and I am a big fan of ultralight rods and dry fly action, so you'd think that being able to have a legit use for a 1wt rod in the form of tossing size stupid fucking stupid (26?! Fuck. You!) flies to happily feeding trouts up top would be like a wet dream for me.

You're wrong. I loathe it. I don't know why, probably because it means I'm supposed to be up on stream at 7am and shit.

However, I'm willing to acknowledge its The Thing To Do in the Lehigh Valley, so, well, I do it. Once. Maybe twice. OK, definatly twice, but highly doubtful as to do it three times.


I got those two times out of my system this weekend.

I'd consent to do it one more time to show a friend, but I think that's about it. Not that I caught a fucking thing. No, instead I spent the first 30 minutes standing in the stream thinking, "I'm tired, I've had no fucking coffee and how the fuck am I expected to wait for hatches spinner falls if I can't fucking smoke a fucking pipe to occupy the fucking time," coz you see doctor's orders to give that shit up. Finally, when a few of the fucking piscine bastards start to finally feed, I can being.

Thankfully, I can see with two eyes, which makes itty bitty flies more tolerant because like, I can see them. I evidently can't see well enough to find out the next 45 minutes of my day was spent casting to a pod of fucking chubs.

Without a take.

I hate fucking trico fishing. If I wanted that sort of rejection, I'd have stayed home and pleaded with the lady for an hour instead of leaving my goddamned comfortable bed to stand in a goddamned stream instead. This cat was upstream with a friend of mine, and appears to have been as hooked as solidly as his fish, though. So I guess someone had a pleasant time.

However, in the interest of, again, it being as said earlier, The Thing To Do, I went out the next day. This time, I left at 8am, and well, spent 30 minutes standing in the stream hating the distinct lack of tobacco in my life, before I decided to go see if there was more swarm shit happening somewhere else. So, as I spooled my shit up, I swung my hand down and discovered something I left clamped in one of the alligator clips of my lanyard...

Its not even a fucking trico for fuck's sake.

...honestly, I fucking hate trico fishing. Fuck it. And why is it that even though we're all sanctimonious about barbless flies, whenever someone inevitably sticks themselves, its always fucking barbed? Seriously? I suppose its the divine comedy of getting what we issue out to the fish all the damned time, if we're not fucking man enough to take one ourselves, do we have any right sticking the fish? All I know is I hope this fills the fucking self-hook qouta, coz I really don't want to pick out a 5/0 out of the back of my head at the shore one shitty day.

Anyways, I was going to be all through and post a how-to on how to tie that little poly winged fucker up there, but I don't care. I've had enough of this bullshit hatch for one year.