When a fly fisherman is standing on a really nice bass boat besides a damn good bass fisherman who is catching fish after fish, there is potential for that fly fisherman to feel a little silly as he tries to explains that the cold is the reason his sinking line is so tangled. It is a chilly morning and the fly fisherman is glad he stuffed a pair of socks into his cargo pocket before heading out.
A bass fisherman doesn't understand when people who aren't catching fish say they are just happy to "be out," and the fly fisherman doesn't either. When you get picked up at 3am and are standing on the dock before the sun's even scratched his balls and had his morning coffee, you better catch a damn fish.
The bass fisherman nods toward the popper on the fly rod. "I can't believe something didn't eat that bug," he says as he slams the steel home into the lip of some weed-hidden fish, swinging it into the boat and tossing it back in the blink of an eye.
"That minnow looks great, I am surprised nothing has hit that thing," the bass fisherman says to the fly guy as his spinner bait entices another bite and the braided line takes little time to convince the fish that he might as well give up.
"Toss that thing right in there, see? Right where the tules meet the bank, there is always a fish in there." The bass fisherman says, and the fly fisherman does and sets the hook as the weed guard is pushed to the side and the hook passes through the soft flesh of a bass's lip. "Alright! See? That was worth getting up at 3am, right?" But you have to go to sleep to technically have 'gotten up', the fly fisherman thinks.
The cool morning air passes through the their hair as the 225-horse Mercury shoots the Black Hornet across the lake at speeds to make anyone used to rowing a pontoon quiver with shake his head in astonishment. There ain't no trollin' a bugger when you can get to spot "B" from spot "A" at 56 miles per hour.
"The number one rule when fishing in a high performance bass boat is to make sure the trolling motor is up before you take off," the bass fisherman says. "That, and to make sure there is nothing sitting out on the deck that will blow away." The fly fisherman thinks for a moment then looks around realizing that his Stripee is no longer sitting on the back deck when he left it.
The Black Hornet pushes on.
The fly fisherman sits on the back deck looking at the little mono loops tightly wrapped and glued around the end of the fly line, the other 6 feet of leader slowly sinking to the base of the submerged tree that defied the weed guard on his diamond hair minnow. It has been nearly four hours and the fly fisherman thinks about the numbers. He may or may not have another bass leader pre-tied. He may or may not have a minnow that looks as good as the one he lost. He may or may not have asked the bass fisherman if he could throw that spinner bait for a while. He may or may not have stuck a bass on that spinner bait. He may or may not feel one way or another about it.