Gray November mornings

 That very large chub was so close to perfection.

It was a grey and cold November morning on the banks of the Ticino River, the closest thing to a salmon/steelhead river we had in my hometown and, in my head, I was somewhere else.

Far.

I was fishing with a long fiberglass Daiwa, a purple stick with a trigger handle and an Abu Ambassadeur 5500 that I still own.

The river was high and controlling the lures in that water was very difficult.

Eventually I came to a beautiful bend and switched to a 11cm. Rapala and, at the end of the swing, BAM!

Now, a chub is chub, but a 4lbs + chub, in high water, in a large, river, hits like a tonne of bricks...

My mind ran like crazy through what the river could have served me that day... Pike, trout, walleye.. Imagine my surprise when I saw it. 

After that I never underestimated the lowly chub anymore and actually started to look for more with growing success and satisfaction.