That time of year is here.
The In Between
Any pull on the end of a fly rod is a gift to me, but there are certain ones that mean the more than others. Fish that swim to the ocean and return mean the most and the hierarchy descends from there. Months of prep, tires chewing blacktop in search of and actual time on the river.
8 solid months of single minded devotion, at least within the fishing realm
Still there has to be a pause. An extended breath in the intensity because without it burnout would most certainly come sooner than later.
So a smile comes across my face as I rig up the tiny bugs, get in position on my pontoon boat, set the bobber to the right depth and chuck it out onto the lake. Let it sit for a spell and then run out another offering 10 feet to the left. And so on and so on, on a happy autopilot setting.
The In Between is a happy, reflective place.
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