We only had three tenths of a mile of trail to get to the river, but that was the issue in my head. We had an entire three tenths of a mile to get to the river, and this kayak cart was a cheap piece of crap. I knew it. The kayak knew it. Every rock on the trail knew it.
A couple times as we reeled in to move on or to change the fly simply because we were bored with such easy fishing and wanted to try to find the wrong fly to make it more challenging, brook trout attacked practically at our feet just as the fly was lifted from the water and I decided that perhaps I should be doing a figure 8 with the dry fly at the end of my rod tip like you do for musky at the side of the boat.