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I had held the fly rod, running my hands over the black foam grip and the forest green blank for weeks before I brought it outside. It was a $25 rod, reel, and line from a department store, but I kept it safely inside. I felt like the right thing to do was to wait until I was actually on a trout stream. I was in, and it was all or nothing.
After the months of thinking about fly fishing, after biding my time with the rod in my room, after two hours in the car to the trout stream: two casts in I caught a fish.
This moment came a few years into my fishing career. Ever since my best friend told me I had to give fly fishing for trout a try, I had been watching Saturday morning outdoor shows, focusing on the appropriate pages in Cabela’s catalogs, and day dreaming about this new endeavor. Teenagers have the propensity for and the luxury of developing a one-track mind. I still loved bass fishing, but in the interval between deciding to try fly fishing and fly fishing I was uniquely focused on trout. As I preparing for my inaugural fly fishing trip I continued to go to local ponds every other day. My big Plano tackle box went where I went. I used my Shimano rod and reel with surgical precision. I didn’t love bass fishing less. I just began to love fly fishing for trout more.
What it came down to was a captivation: the people, places, and things that came with fly fishing had me.
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