|Black Canyon Gila Trout|
Sometimes you wait so long for something, you think it's never going to happen.Even as the day approached I thought something would go wrong. But nothing did. I made it to Black Canyon. I fished for Gila trout. I made the wrong choice choosing trails walking in, which led me onto a narrow ledge of a cliff, which to fall from would mean death, not just injury. I left my lunch in the truck. Somehow I didn't secure the cap of one of my water bottles so I soaked and ruined my camera, but I fished for Gila trout. I didn't change my cap for the one with the cloth that protects my neck from the New Mexico sun. I didn't put on sunblock.I turned down and parked on the road that was 50 yards before the road I wanted, which added a half-mile to my hike, but I fished for Gila trout. I fished for Gila trout and I caught Gila trout. At the first pool I cast from behind a giant Ponderosa pine: there was a bite. A short while later, kneeling in some tall grass, I blind casted into a calm, narrow pool and waited a few seconds with just the fly sitting on the surface. The line tightened with an undeniable hook-up, and a few moments after I held a pure strain Gila trout in my hands. I continued upstream, catching a nice fish in almost every deep pool.The few where I'd failed, I made up for on the walk back. It was hot, a little too hot for mid-September. I didn't mind. My lunch wasn't back at the truck, like I thought, but back at the house in Las Cruces. So, it would be at least another 2 hours before I could stop at the Lota-Burger in Deming and get something to eat. I didn't mind. The drive out was just as slow and rough as the drive in. I didn't really mind. The waiting was over.