I spent the entire day yesterday absorbing the winter sun. I breathed in fresh mountain air, and my senses were tantalized by the sweet smells of pine, manzanita, and sage. I fly fished a legendary California river with the most stunning mountain backdrops that this state has to offer, and I spent this time solidifying a bond with a great friend and confidant.
I hooked and lost the trout of a lifetime on a stone fly nymph, an absolutely beautiful fish with incredible colors consisting of blue and purple hues and an accent of burgundy, like the shade of wine. Better to have hooked and lost, than to never have hooked at all.
What more can a person ask for?
You can keep your fancy restaurants, your nightclubs, your smart phones, all of your technology, and your rat race to attain wealth.
That my friend is not living.
This is living.
Thanks for looking.
I have always advocated and embraced each and every form of angling, and I continue to support each individuals methodology in the pursuit of the sport without prejudice or elitism. I confess however, that I have come to understand that there is an elevated level of refinement involved in the artistic qualities found in fly fishing. I have found that there is a high degree of skill involved, and a never ending learning curve which contains a profound appeal to my personality traits.
George proclaimed this morning, "I would rather catch one fish on the swing, than ten under the indicator." I am guilty of loving to feel the angry thrashing of a silver bullet in any way that I can.....but brother, I get it, I really do.
I thank you yet again for another crisp quality morning spent learning from you.
Sometimes I enjoy stepping out of my comfort zone to try something new that I do not particularly understand., as it is important that we evolve in all avenues of achievement whenever the opportunity arises.
I ventured back out to Rio Americana this morning to try my hand at the spey rod with my good friend George. He would provide me with a basic understanding of this new and highly effective tool for seeking steelhead, covering much more water at a very rapid rate.
Frozen.
What a kick ass morning, thanks George.
Its that time again. The air is crisp and the ground is laden with frost, that can only mean one thing....steelhead season is upon us once again.
I strayed from the comfort of my river for a time, lost myself a bit in a blind confusion not branded in logic but in emotion. I learned a few things in the process though, attended a great college and figured out more about myself and the decisions that I make in relation to others.
Seeing the mighty American River and wading in her cold rushing depths brought back a flood of emotion that validated for me the fact that I had made the right decision in coming back to enjoy her icy embrace. Just the sight of her increases my level of wellness ten fold. I love nothing more than hunting every species of fish that reside there.
She met me this morning veiled in a beautiful shroud of mist.
The temperature was a balmy twenty eight degrees.
I hooked two gorgeous fish today, both were smart enough and tenacious enough to avoid seeing the net. I think that is the allure of the steelhead for me. The battle within these fish is more than enough to earn any mans respect, and their dime bright beauty takes the breath from my chest.
Thanks for looking.
