It’s not exactly a secret spot, but you never mention it in conversation. It’s a little out of the way — an extra hour drive, say, or at the end of a particularly burly two-track — and so it’s not in the regular rotation. You don’t make it there all that often. Once a year maybe. Maybe less.
But because absence makes the heart grow fonder, or because you’ve never had a bad day there, or because it’s so damn pretty that you smile just picturing it, or because you discovered it with your best friend, or because there was that one fish that you’ve never told anyone about (because who would believe you if you did?), that stretch of water has an unlabeled place of honor in your personal pantheon of fishing holes.
You know the place I’m talking about.
And you’re not getting any younger.
So what are you waiting for?