My hands are red and numb ,yet I still can feel the line dance through the frigid air. I should be tired from the 300 mile drive through the night, yet my mind is clear and focused.
I will do anything to pursue my passions.
An almost invisible shadow passes under the water’s surface, yet i know its shape. I strategize… distance, wind direction, sun, conflicting currents, what fly to use, how to approach, and then I cast, mend the line, a perfect drift. The shadow moves, follows, rises, about to break the surface to eat my fly. Refusal… I cast again. I change positions, I cast. I change my fly, I cast
The beauty is not the number of fish caught; the romance of the experience keeps me coming back. It's the spontaneity of the situation. My design process always adapts yet it also remains constant. Like the stream, winding, but always carving. Gentle, but somehow dominant.
“Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it.”- Norman Maclean