Ah, the anticipation. Traditional trips taken each year. Memories extending back many years. A storm is coming, but it probably will be ok, given how low the river has been through the Fall. Up early, as a two hour drive lies ahead and we want to be on the water at first light. There early, gearing up in the dark. Down we go through old briars, alders and mud.

Silent recognition amongst us. Nothing needs to be said; we’ve been here enough times to know where the water line needs to be for safe wading and productive presentations. The river is up a good two feet  too high at the bank…back up into the tall grass and briars. The speed is too fast and the mind starts to work on where could we go to gain ok access. We cannot turn around now.  We each tried according to our own individual patience levels. Some sat out early, fed up. All eventually gave up.Too unsafe to wade and fish.

River levels, prognostications and weather systems were checked, but it poured forth oblivious to the forecast. Next few months maybe….time is so scarce these days….but we all need the fix, the pull, the moment.