I have lost track of days. Days have turned to weeks and weeks have turned to months. For many, that is all they ever get. They hit the water every few months and that is the whole enchilada. Fishing is my happy place, my calm eye in the center of my life tornado. So to quit cold turkey regardless of how noble the reason (I love you Hannah and Zachary) is a bit of an out of body experience.
I have read old magazines, frequented my usual web communities, watched countless fly fishing re-runs on my DVR, and organized my gear twice. I can feel myself getting twitchy… anxious. Is there something wrong with me? Has the bug bit me that badly that I can’t spend a few months out of the water without all of the detox like side effects?
It doesn’t help knowing that a few of my friends have had some really solid days both chasing chrome up in Erie and trout across many of our streams. We have had some good rains and conditions are looking promising this year. The only thing not promising is my ability to even consider going anywhere just yet.
For now, I am going to have to settle for allowing my imagination to wander and my memories of many tight lines of the past year to get me through till December. Wish me luck… I’m going to need it!