Last Dance

Found some pictures from early last month.  Cleaning up old files are doing a poor job of holding me over while I’m stuck between avoiding the Truckee and lacking the time to venture further.  My first carp on the fly is coming soon.

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Wee lad.

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Stone Daddy eater.

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Smart brown.

I am reminded that fly fishing for me is about as convenient as it can possibly get, shy of living and working in a lodge some place.  I’m coming to grips with the fact that I have grown accustomed to that luxury, and am resistant to driving for hours to experience the same thing I have in my backyard.  I want to explore the Sierras and simultaneously would rather wait for my first fishing love to wake up so we can spend time together again.

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