
Even if I hadn’t been out in a week, the first cast felt like it was simply the next cast in a succession of fly fishing moments. It was like picking up where I had left off. Like I had never left. Never stopped fishing.
It is a great feeling.
I’ve had two such seasons in my life. Without looking at journals or photograph timestamps I can’t remember exactly when they were. That isn’t an indictment on the impact that those seasons had. I certainly enjoyed all the fishing. Circumstances just converged such that consistent fly fishing was interwoven with everything else. Nothing was sacrificed or brushed aside. Fishing just found its way into the melody of life.









