FINALLY. The planets aligned. I made it up LHF. Even parking next to a petrified pungent painted pest, could not keep the excitement at bay. Finally. I cannot count how many times I've fished this stretch of stream, but it changes every time. No man can step into the same river twice. I am enthralled at the capacity that standing in rushing water, casting a small tangle of feathers and fur with a graphite stick has in making one forget all else. A single minded focus takes over, time, space and bodily functions cease to matter. What could be greater? Possibly the DC you stashed in a snowbank for the walk out. Possibly. Will try again tomorrow. Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sweet Stink of Success
FINALLY. The planets aligned. I made it up LHF. Even parking next to a petrified pungent painted pest, could not keep the excitement at bay. Finally. I cannot count how many times I've fished this stretch of stream, but it changes every time. No man can step into the same river twice. I am enthralled at the capacity that standing in rushing water, casting a small tangle of feathers and fur with a graphite stick has in making one forget all else. A single minded focus takes over, time, space and bodily functions cease to matter. What could be greater? Possibly the DC you stashed in a snowbank for the walk out. Possibly. Will try again tomorrow. 
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I'm sitting at the convention center in Atlanta Georgia with 13,000 of my closest friends. Watching volleyball till my eyes are bleary and my ears ache from the perfect auditory smoothie blended from the nonstop din of whistles, cheers, a/c bowers. Its the antithesis of a gurgling trout stream. Instead of some gear whoring at REI for the upcoming Big Creek trip, I smilingly drop $74 on tickets to the coca-cola museum. After two hours in the holy tabernacle of the real thing, I have to remind myself that I actually do enjoy seeing a couple of silver bullet DCs in a fishing net swinging in the current. The price of maintaining my fortress of fishability in the marital institution can seem excruciating at moments.
But alas, the technology I generally despise brings me a moment of joy as I watch pablo land his season opening cut from his beloved LHF on a 2" screen in the middle of Hotlanta and volleyball ppaluza.
Oh yea, and thanks for getting me mug back on the page.
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