Days go by without as much as a peck. Doubt begins to creep in. Are there any fish in the river? Should I change flies? Is my swing too fast…too slow? Why does my rain coat leak?
My son pulls his camo ball cap tight over his eyes. My daughter grabs her leotard and jumps out of the car. She has gymnastics for the next two and a half hours. The boys are headed to the hills. For nearly two weeks we’ve been running in high gear. My wife has been, Read More
And let us be clear. We are being disregarded. The Senators and state governments who’ve led us down this path to the brink of unthinkable calamity have sized us up, taken our measure and deemed us impotent.
It may not be in the regular rotation, but it does hold a place of honor.
No doubt about it, the deck is stacked. But there is a path to victory.
Fixed wing Cessna’s buzz in and out. Dust flies from the prop wash. Eager boaters hurriedly shuttle dry bags, boats, and kitchen boxes to the water. Moving like ants each group seeks to ready it’s craft.
The butterflies in your stomach are not mistaken.
As you plan your next hunting or fishing trip, put some thought into who you invite to go with you. It might be the most important decision you make.
Clearly fish can sense when one’s focus is trained, heart and soul, on a drift, and as importantly when it’s not. Something about our attention, or maybe our intention, is tipping them off.
Six days, five nights and one of the most impressive rivers in the lower forty eight. Cut through the Frank Church-River of No Return Wilderness, the Middle Fork of the Salmon is as good as it gets.