Around dusk and dawn the brown trout of Great Pond come to the surface to feed. At about 7:30 one evening, Tucker and I went out in his LL Bean Old Town Canoe in search of the elusive trout. I prayed for the clouds to open up with thunder and lightening and for an unsuspecting five pounder to latch onto our hooks and pull us around the lake in an Old Man and the Sea type battle.
Much to my disappointment, the clouds fled to the horizon, exposing a beautiful sunset. I didn't even hear a fish jump. Once again, my fantasy of recreating a Hemingway scene failed.
I couldn't have been happier, and the next morning I woke up at five to give it another go.