I caught my share, just to convince my self it was real, then was content to row, man the net, exchange high fives and hoot and holler with an ear to ear grin for the remainder of the day.
After fifteen minutes, three fly changes and a complete rotation of casters the plan was looking dubious.
Then the line came tight. A large swirl followed and I got my first glimpse of what was on the line. This wasn’t your average trout. My son had the net at the ready and forgot all his previous reasons to go home.
Needing to clear the guides for the 40th time I snap the tip off my rod.
Somewhere deep in the unknowable past one of our ancestors looked at this creature and thought… I’m going to eat that. God bless him.
Legend has it that William Carlos Williams left a masterpiece of American poetry by way of apology and thank you note to his hosts after raiding their icebox. We should all be so kind.
Cruising down the two lane highway the world lights up with colors only seen during the first few moments of the day. Looking back I take a final look at the sunrise as I pull the boat towards the river.
If you recognize these symptoms, please, seek help immediately at your nearest skeet and trap range, dog hiking trail or tailwater. And remember, you’re not alone.
Shot’s and Bonefish, Barracuda, Tarpon and Permit filled our days. Cold beers quenched our thirst and the living was easy.