So what do you do in the frozen Northland when the itch to fish grabs hold, and you would rather not break ice out of your guides? You head South, and South it was. I headed down to Dixie, (work related, wink wink) and was greeted by 60 deg weather. I rattled off some lame excuse to my wife, slipped quietly away and drove to the little ole cutt creek that I had visited in years past. Suffice it to say, after a long hike in, and an inability to even cast a fly rod, I hung my head for the hike of shame, back to the car. What was I thinking? Oh well, felt good to at least feel the sun on my face and have even a modest amount of hope that a fish would rise. Take a gander at my little stream....
