So I torture myself all the same, like most people do, reading about the places others go in search of fish and grand views of the wild. And I lie to myself, telling myself that if I’d just buckle down and save some money, that I could be on a plane next year, fly rod tubes in the overhead compartments, fly boxes tucked in between neatly folded clothes in a small suitcase. I tell myself this lie as I hear the wind flapping shingles on the roof overhead, knowing we’ll need a new roof this year. Roofs, if you don’t know, take money. At least as much as what I could spend on several plane tickets. My wife and neighbors see tar and stone glued together in a green shade that matches the house siding laying on the lawn after the wind takes its toll. As I’m on the roof nailing down new shingles that don’t match, I don’t see nails piercing shingles. I see myself nailing a ticket to South America down.
- Tags: Africa, Alaska, authors, bahamas fly fishing, balance in life, beach fishing, body of water, bone fish, chris dombrowski, cuba flats fishing, cuba fly fishing, david pinder, flats fishing, flats fly fishing, Florida, Florida fishing, Fly Fishing Adventure, fly fishing book reviews, fly fishing books, life experience, life lessons, tropical fishing, tropical fly fishing, tropical island fishing
As the wind rattles the windows of my writing room I sit here and consider possibilities. That downstream on the creek, closer to its mouth where it enters the Mohawk, where the banks are all ten feet tall and cut out of the sand of the Oriskany Flats, that there, the wind is most likely screaming by over the tops of the trees, easily sixty feet, far above where the loops of my line would take shape. Or that standing below the face of Delta Dam, where the top of the dam and the rim of earth and trees surrounding me would be an easy hundred-plus feet above me, that there as I could usually find it, it would be calm enough to the cast the fly rod. A bubble for anglers to practice their art inside of on some of the windiest days. As I sit and search my memories for other places that could work on a day like today the house shakes for a second like a train traveling over an old trestle and leaves pass the windows at a high rate of speed, making it look as though for a few seconds the house is moving at a good clip. Holly speaks up from the living room as if reading my mind, there’s no way you could go fishing in this.