I can’t imagine having better fishing buddies. It’s funny the way it evolves, too. One day a guy you’ve fished with only a few times says, “I’ve got a guy we really should take along sometime.” A few years later, you don’t remember what it was like fishing without either of them.
When I got started fly fishing, it was almost always by myself. Now, it’s rare. Sharing those good or bad times on the river with close friends makes it a whole different experience. They get to razz you when you totally blow a cast or a drift. And it’s ok, because they have hooksets you are still rolling about from several seasons ago. One of my recent favorites was Kris recalling, “Dude, remember the fish last year that refused you 4 times and just moved a few feet down each time? That was so awesome.” Yeah, uh that was… great? Thanks a lot. Haha.
It feels jaded to say, but fish, spots, and beautiful, contrasting colors all seem to run together. Vivid memories of good days on the water with good friends never seem to fade.
Dirt Roads and Blue Lines 