Maybe it's just me but I find the time leading up to a fishing trip to be almost as good as the trip itself. There's just something about going through all of my gear; checking and rechecking the line for cracks, tying flies to fill the gaps in my fly box, counting my spare leaders and spools of tippet, looking for pinholes in my waders, and even checking the drag on my reel. Admittedly, I've always been a little bit of a gear weeny, but that isn't why I find the preparations so cathartic. It's the memories that are tied to everything. The feisty bass that defeated my drag and pulled me halfway into my backing. And the ding in my fly box from slipping on an algae covered slab of limestone, fumbling the box and then watching it bounce off a boulder below me and sink straight to the bottom of the stream. The memories quickly turn to daydreams. Daydreams of what the trip will be like, what I will catch, what I will see. The anticipation is absolutely exciting. But then again, maybe it's just me.
No comments:
Post a Comment