But this morning I came across some pictures from up on the towers, and it lead to me thinking about things that I took away from my short time in that industry. Mostly fly fishing, and a pair of old friends. In the picture I’m looking down past my boots at the featureless landscape four-hundred and fifty some odd feet below. But it wasn’t the height, and it wasn’t the memory of that specific job that made the picture special. It was my boots supporting me up on the narrow, cold steel up in the wind. They’re my wading boots.
- Tags: Adirondack brook trout, adirondacks, bass fishing, Bass on the fly, bluegill on the fly, Brook trout, Brown Trout, catch and release, fish bum, fish stories, fishing gear, fishing lessons, fishing memories, fishing stories, Fly Fishing Adventure, fly fishing lessons, fly gear, learning to fly fish, life experience, life lessons, mental health, one more cast, oriskany creek, small stream fly fishing, tower climber, tower dawg, tower dog, tower hand, tower rigger, trout season, wader review, waders, wading boots, wild brook trout
So there I was, casting a brightly, almost obnoxiously colored streamer that would’ve matched the clashing colors of any ‘80s hair band wardrobe, or likewise looked right at home dangling from the ear of some big haired, eye shadow wearing millionaire rocker in an MTV video. I only managed a couple fish that morning, nothing to write home about, all the while suffering a good headache with ears still ringing and rocking out to Twisted Sister in my head while catching a couple big minnows and a couple small bass. I also thought back on last March when I fished in the Florida salt and got skunked, caught nothing while mullet jumped all around me…The fish, not the band.
I just started this too late. I wish I’d found fly fishing much sooner in life. It could’ve saved me a lot of heart ache. A lot of anger. A lot of depression. What you’ve got to understand is that even though I’ve always fished, there were a great number of years in between being a long haired head banger in high school stricken by the need to hunt bass in farm ponds with spinning rods and these years now, that I find time fleeting and calendars shrinking as I dream of chasing fish to the ends of the earth with a fly rod. The years in between were a distracted time the way I see it. There was always a fishing rod leaning in a corner of a closet or the garage that came out a couple times a year, but there were too many things taking my full attention, leaving almost none for the fish and the places they could be found.
- Tags: adirondacks, anger issues, bass fishing, Bass on the fly, Blugill on the fly, Brook trout, Brown Trout, catch and release, crappie on the fly, fall fly fishing, fish bum, fish stories, fishing gear, fishing memories, fly box, fly fishing, Fly Fishing Adventure, fly fishing lessons, glass is not dead, hot rod, learning to fly fish, life experience, life lessons, looking back, mental health, one more cast, panfish on the fly, purposefully lost, stability, streamer junkie, time to heal, Trout bum, trout power, wild brook trout, zen, zen and the river
Miles of dirt road. Miles. Sometimes the dirt was altogether missing, replaced by steep grades of bowling ball sized cobble stone and jagged points of granite sticking straight up like the earth trying to jab an elbow to the oil pan of the truck as it passed over. I’d look...
- Tags: Adirondack brook trout, adirondacks, Brook trout, catch and release, creek chub, dry fly, fish bum, fishing, fishing gear, fishing memories, fly fishing, Fly Fishing Adventure, fly fishing lessons, german short haired pointer, hiking, life experience, north country, purposefully lost, wild trout, zen
A two hour wait in line for a rental car we'd reserved and paid for a month ago. A forty minute drive to the hotel. We checked in close to midnight. Standing on our balcony I knew the beach was right there. I could hear the waves. I could smell...