Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.
It felt like a waking dream, walking a path out over the water.
Deep in the calendar and closing on the solstice I clambered over a breakwall in a dark corner of our city by the lake.
The sun had gone down and I was nearly blind and stumbling over slick stones. Continue reading
Planning a fishing trip under the impetus of desperation is fool-hardy, or worse.
I prefer the “Nice to get away” trips. No pressure, no expectations, no self-inflicted stress. Eat drink and be merry, and let the fishing happen at its own pace. This is the quintessential recipe for a memorable fishing trip. Start putting obligations on the table, jacking up hope, and banking on hypotheticals & you’ll quickly find yourself wishing the weekend away.
We were pretty fucking desperate, though. Continue reading