Sometimes the fishing doesn't live up to the expectations we bring to it, and sometimes that is just fine. To paraphrase a friend paraphrasing an Alcoholics Anonymous saying, expectations are nothing but premeditated regret. 

Like Tom Chandler over at Trout Underground, I also made a bet this weekend on a small stream, but unlike Tom, my bet didn't pan out. With our regular early season rivers blown out, David and I set our sites on the headwaters of the Carmel river, a stream that neither of us had ever fished, but which was geographically and topographically similar to our beloved Little Sur, a little stream that produces a lot of fun dry fly fishing for small wild trout.

Hiking in to the river involves a leisurely 2.5 mile walk around the San Padres Reservoir (where spin-casters and float tuber's were catching trout that were inaccessible to us), ultimately leading to a series of beautiful pools shaded by redwoods and alders. However, within an hour, it was clear that the crystal clear pools were utterly devoid of fish. 

I started to feel a sense of disappointment creeping up, and then had to struggle with myself to regain a sense of perspective. Perhaps the day was not going to provide me with the electric jolt of catching a trout on a dry fly, but I had a beautiful day hiking with a friend and had discovered a new creek which, once it warms up beyond 50 degrees, might actually provide some lovely fishing.

If the next fishing trip also turns out to be a "hike with a fly rod", I might not be able to hold onto the same cheery outlook, but for the moment, I am very pleased with a lovely day out.