It’s the kind of trip where when you pack you laugh at the thought of bringing a razor. You pack deodorant out of guilt but have no plans of applying it. It’s the kind of trip where one pair of boxers is good for at least a 48 hour span.
A couple of hours ago I packed for my Mammoth fly fishing trip. I’ll be hitting the orad immediately after the show. We’ll be tackling the Upper Owens and Hot Creek, chasing the wily trout.
There are a few hobbies I have that are out right addicting. Skiing and surfing always leave me wanting more. They can offer an obsessive component. When I get out of the water or off the slopes its only a brief time later that I find myself wanting so badly to be back in that environment.
But perhaps at the top of that obsessive disorder is fly fishing. For those of you that know what I’m referencing, you get it. For those tyou haven’t, you must do it. I’m referring to the ultimate sensation of watching a trout rise and strike that fly that you’ve laid atop the water. Fly fishing is not a cast and reel sport, it’s a hunt. Can you locate and land the wily trout. We’ll find out this weekend if I can.
Talk to you at 3.