29 days plus 100 days= eternity

Saturday morning, roaming around like a big grizz, trying to decide what to do with myself- fighting the urge to go attack a sow and kill the cubs, no reason, just because I can, and I'm crazy from a long hibernation.

Check the Bristol Bay google feed for any updates on the pebble mine disaster, end up reading the d
Dillingham news, seems the Angels (girls bball team) had a pretty good year.... leads me to the Alaska Dispatch, but only reports of last years run and a suspected murder in Eagle, knife stabbing,... ok. let's just go to the source- Alaska Fish and Game... just for kicks I read last years projection report- highest in 20 years, 35 million sockeye can't be wrong!  But its all quite on the western front for 2016- except a king report- not good for the Kenai, a little better for Bristol- let's hope and pray the big boys can make a come back (solemn bow).

So March 12, the count down to the countdown begins eh, only 29 days till they release the 2016 projections and then for a 100 days I can check the site and obsess over the data.  this is bad.... maybe I should take up fly tying, can't be any more miserable.

The dog days are over, run fast

It's 77 degrees on March 11th.  I bring stuff for a run in the woods, but the knee is tender, the desire is waning and there is a hatch coming off (not really, but it sounds good).  So at this temp waders stay home and the wet legs are a relief.  There is already a touch if humidity in the air, is it March or May?    I'm not very focused, but don't really care.  Stuffed a hammock in the new hip pack, just in case I lost all desire.  I didn't.  Not much happening till I hit Christians pool and take a big brookie and couple of others.  The lights dimming, cicadas buzzing as I bushwack back to the truck. 72 degrees as the dark trees shimmer in the headlights.  Is it just me, or did winter just get real short.

We ate sand..... ya ate what?

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the swift river and the music in its roar, 
I love not man the less, but nature more.

There is a misery in the paved road,
There is depression in the concourse of masses
There is a longing where all abode
By the roaring freeway and the deafening din,
Wilderness alone is the balm, humanity wears me thin.