the secret spot, upstream. A deeper pool, with a canopy of over hanging branches making casting/presentation difficult. The water races down from above stream into the pool and slows. I stand upon a narrow ledge, almost ready to vanish to rising waters. I work the water, dredging as best I can. The rod is darn near unmanageable to maneuver with all the over hanging branches snagging the tip, the line. I yield to the obstacles. Nature combines to thwart this man, in this remote spot. I turn to depart and there on the alder tree’s bark, someone has carved in ‘Fish’. Yes, probably quite true. Homage to a sanctuary I could not penetrate this day.