The Makeshift Grand Slam

The Grand Slam. Brook, Brown, Cutthroat, Rainbow. But what happens when the Grand Slam changes? When you're trying to pull the Slam in warm water? When you're spending half the time helping someone who's never fly fished before? And when all the fish in the entire lake are giving you the infamous middle fin? Well than, here is your Grand Slam:    Bass, Blue Gill, And One other fish that's willing to bite.

We got out to Pella Crossing around 9:30. The heat was already rising, and the Smallmouths were being lazy. They wouldn't eat any flies we threw at them, and spooked at any movement. After a few minutes sight casting to the little bastards, we moved onto Largemouth. Any fish you could see wouldn't be willing to bite, but casting out into the deeper sections wielded a few fish. Obviously, the Blue gill would attack everything, and a few managed to actually hook themselves.

We kept fishing the bass, and even managed to get the kid who's never fished before onto a decent fish. Our shuttle (Mom's car) was arriving around 1:30, and when I looked at my clock it was 1:15. We started making our way back toward the car, and arrived at the parking lot by 1:20. Right as we were about to sit down and wait for the car, I spotted a dark shape. Closer look showed that it was a catfish, feeding around a rock. I'm sure it was pure luck, but my first cast landed right in his hole. Fish on! And that my friends, is the makeshift Grand Slam.