Taming wanderlust is hard.
After a year full of wandering, chasing waterfalls, climbing in and out of gorges, and playing in the high country desert of the Southwest, it's hard to reign it all in.
In the late fall and winter, the days get shorter and colder, and your wanderlust has to be tamed, no matter how much you fight it, there just isn't enough sunshine in the day.
By the way, I hate the time change.
We set out in hopes of an adventure, down deep into a gorge, dreams of big, wild browns and magenta striped rainbows laid heavy on our minds. This trip was, by all accounts, an eight to ten-hour fishing day, but we were trying to squeeze it into far fewer hours of daylight.
I don't like to rush fishing, neither does Jacob; in fact, he's much worse than I am. We tend to be slow and methodical, lingering in holes long after the average angler would have abandoned it. If you take us fishing on a stretch that should take four hours to complete, you'd be safe in bumping that up to six. That's just how we are.
We were battling time and ourselves, not to mention wind and cold. There were places we rushed through; holes we should have been patient with, stomped through runs that would have probably produced, we rushed.
When you hurry through you aren't enjoying it, not really. The adventure turns into a "to-do," the experience is lost. You're trying to accomplish something, mark it off a list, feel successful. Living life this way is not beneficial, and fishing should take place slowly and thoughtfully.
Life isn't always about grand adventures, sometimes it's about enjoying the little things, taking your time, and being happy with where you are.