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Fly fishing

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I step out of the Jeep sluggishly my knees are weak not from the 4 hour trek sitting in a confined space but from the view that I gaze upon beyond me. Aspen trees grow tall with branches reaching up to the sky. The trees tall, but snow capped mountains tower over the bark-less trees behind them. Untouched by humans but flourishing with a green coating of trees and shrubs. I feel in tune I am finally in my place of comfort I strap my waders on, grab my fly rod and start walking through the thick shrubbery, so thick that nobody would even think of trying to find what is hiding beyond the labyrinth wall, but I know there is something magnificent past these mere bushes so I pull my way through. I can feel the cool Colorado air rushing more more as I get closer to the stream. The stream is finally in my sight now I am in a clean fast stride to see this hidden water source. Behind me is a track winding through the overgrown forest so bendy that no one but the creator would be able to navigate through the fresh pathway. Finally reaching the creek I slip my hand in my front pocket and pull out a fly. The imitation of a nymph is perfectly crafted with every piece of yarn weaved around the almost miniature hook. I tie the fly on quickly eager to throw my line out into this flowing creek. Knowing that little Brook Trout are awaiting a larvae to pass by in the current to snack on the environment around me becomes mute and still as I throw my first cast back and forth my rod goes with the line following in its path. Finally I can feel that the line is at a suitable length. One back cast and one more forward. The line drops smoothly in to the water I keep a close look at my lure lazily flowing with the current past obstacles in the stream. So perfect was the cast that as soon as it glided past a smooth rock a huge shadow darted towards the nymph then disappeared but even though it was not in my sight I could feel the fish pulling so I naturally pulled my rod up swiftly and reeled at the right moments when this beast jumped I would lower my pole so I wouldn’t pull the hook out. When I thought I had finally won this battle the trout made a last stand and moved quickly up stream and pulled my line with it. But after becoming exhausted from the fight I was able to land this brook trout. I scoop him out of the water measure him take a picture and take the hook out. Then I release the beautiful spotted fish back into its home and it darts back under a rock as if nothing had just happened I look back and then proceed up stream for more excellent fish like the one I had just caught.



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