Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Hog Johnson
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The Fish Gods granted me three tries, count them, three, to hook Hog Johnson. How can I ever repay that debt? Biked in to Upper LB, of course not a soul in sight. The clear water, golden stones to match the outrageous colors of the trout. Cutt, Brown, Bow. Wild fish, is there anything better?
The true trout fisherman is like a drug addict; he dwells in a tight little dream world all his own, and the men about him, whom he observes obliviously spending their days pursuing money and power, genuinely puzzle him, as he doubtless does them. And sometimes he fishes not because he regards fishing as being so terribly important but because he suspects that so many of the other concerns of men are equally unimportant.~Robert Traver
1 comment:
dude,
that's a great photo of the bo, at first glance you think the bo is taking the fly off the top... blurr it up some and maybe you can sell it!
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