Between Two Banks

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Rushed Hours

Fishing trips. Oh, how I miss a good fishing trip. Since returning home from Colorado, it's been a whirlwind of work. Yup, that four letter word has crept back into our lives. Between a backlog of rod bags (thank you all!!!), rod building and guiding Jacob and I have only managed to hit the water once. But, I guess that's what you get when you go on a month long vacation.

Last week we decided to put our "to-dos" on the back burner for a couple of hours and run up to the Davidson. It's close to the house, it holds fish, and our favorite brewery is on the way home. Win-win-win.

We drove up to this place we know so well to only find a few other folks on the water, a rarity even in the middle of the week. We pulled out the long leaders and midge boxes, replacing the hoppers and dries we'd been throwing all month. Throwing on a rain jacket (it always rains here) we headed down to the river, hoping to make the most of the few hours.

I'll admit, at the moment, I really didn't appreciate this trip. I was discouraged by the views, or lack thereof, frustrated with "cookie cutter" rainbows, and bored from standing in one hole. I must have hummed 'Guess He'd Rather Be In Colorado' half a dozen times.

Towards the end of the day, I sat down with a handful of feathers I had just found and watched Jacob fish. I thought about my list, his list, how long it was going to be until we got to do this again. It was those rushed hours that ended up meaning the most to me this week. Not all fishing trips are going to last all day or be at your favorite spot, but any fishing trip is a good trip.