I know my last blog post left you on the edge of your seat. Today I’m going to answer the question that has doubtlessly been on everyone’s minds: did I catch a fish?   Let me tell you, it was getting down to the wire. I’d been out many times with the incredibly patient Claude, to no avail. Not even a bite. Claude’s patience was really commendable as I stubbornly, astoundingly refused to improve. He kept telling me the same things (mend, don’t go so far back, don’t get stuck in the tree, etc) and untangling my fishing line, which got wildly tangled every thirty seconds. But his patience was unsinkable, even as I failed to get so much as a bite, though I tried dry flies and nymphing, different locations and different times of day. Claude’s motto became “We’re gonna catch you a fish!”   Except his unsinkable patience began to sink, Titanic-style, when I failed to catch a fish nymphing with about 100 visible whitefish in Warm River. I could tell he was giving up on me. It was my eleventh hour. I begged him to take me out one last time (I have no car. I

Claude’s secret but likely identifiable fishing spot My first Sunday in Ashton, Claude, the Washington and Lee Intern, did me the great kindness of taking me fly fishing for the first time in my entire life. I am not in any way an experienced angler. I’ve caught one fish in my entire life. I can’t identify it, and I only caught it with the help of my vastly more experienced little brother. Upon arriving here, it immediately became clear that my utter lack of angling experience simply would not do, and I had to correct it. So I pulled on my waders, crammed my feet into my boots, and got ready to begin my learning journey.   Though I can’t fish to save my life, I love the water. My family has called me a “creek chub” my entire life due to my affinity for swimming in the winding, spring-fed Arkansas creeks in my mom’s hometown. Growing up, you’d have to basically drag me out of the water—and that didn’t mean the battle was over. I was slippery. I’d jump back in if you turned your head for even the smallest second. And I love fish. In the crystal clear