Sunday, August 15, 2010
The Clearwater haunts me.
It gives me a gift in July and nothing since. After 100 consecutive casts today without anything but a sunburn to show for my efforts , a steelhead picks up my offering and for a split second I have a connection.
Then, as fast as it came....it was gone
You get to the point of casting, closing your eyes and feeling your way through each swing. Done correctly, each cast should "feel" just so. During those casts my mind truly wanders
Why dont people catch steelhead in the ocean like they do salmon?
God I miss baseball sometimes
They should make a peanut butter snickers...
I hope I can be as good as a parent to my child on the way as my parents were to me..
It's true mental therapy. Yet as I go to sleep tonight, my dreams wont be like the questions I have asked myself while fishing.
No, no no no...
I get a constant, repetitive feeling of flowing water. A good double spey cast. A tick tick tick of a following fish. A hard pickup
Then...nothing, the fish is gone. Steelhead and the Clearwater are haunting beasts.
Yet this tale is not ment to display woe, but the infectious nature of this river, this fish, and this lifestyle.
I love it