I can't even remember the last time I went fishing. Maybe close to a month now. There's something about standing over a redd drifting eggs and worms that makes you want to vomit. Perhaps swinging something big with the double-hander or strippin' the nasties over the spawning browns will suffice the purist's heart. Or maybe getting the hell out of the trailer park and hopping on a Greyhound for some tropical destination, I don't know maybe the Keys, is in order. And I'll be damned if that ain't the plan.
The wind is gusting upwards of fifty miles right now and there's a snow drift blocking the view from my living room window. I've used up all the saltwater hooks I've got so now I'm reduced to sitting on the couch surfing the internet and reading the Fly Fisher's Guide to the Florida Keys and watching Chasing Silver or Location X, sitting around in shorts and a tee shirt with the heat hovering around 75 degrees, eating scallops and cocnut shrimp with a side of deer tenderloin pretending its a Key's deer. I'm losing my fucking mind and I cannot wait to find it.
I've been threatening for the past couple years to never spend a winter in the Fort again. It's been a long December, and there's reason to believe, maybe this year will be better than the last.
See you in April.
The fly pictured above is Jennings' Boogie Shoes.
