I make it to the river for high tide, then paddle crosscurrent with my 6-weight and a single box of flies. After stowing my canoe among high grasses, I hop out wearing shorts and a T-shirt. Cool water laps at my waist. The bottom is muddy yet firm, perfect for wet wading on a warm, late-spring afternoon. No anglers and a cloudless sky. Ideal conditions for spotting carp.
Creeping along the weed line to a flat I’ve scouted, a half-dozen carp appear—fat and floating in the sun. I tie on a weighted worm fly, stand near the flat’s edge, and wait
