Summer. Its that time of year in the desert. In some places fisherman count the days until it arrives. Where I’m from, its hot. ….really hot. I mean, like…surface of the sun hot. The gear in the boat gets so hot you can’t pick it up and on some days by 9 o’clock in the morning the deck is too hot to walk on barefoot. I mean even the cork on the rod is hot. That kind of hot. The sun is too bright, the bass are deep and fishing at night really isn’t my thing. So instead
of dead slinging just one more cast into the most barren looking piece of water ever, there’s only one thing to do at this time of year…unhook the boat, push it into the garage, load the truck and turn the steering wheel until there’s a little “N” in the corner of the rearview mirror… hit the gas. Don’t stop until you see pine trees.
It’s all about change. I think that’s why I fish. It’s the never ending learning curve. I hate repetition, which is probably why I’m so unemployable. “Here, sit at this one cubicle and do this one thing… Forever.” …Pass.
So after months of lugging around an armload of 7 wts. I’m ready to switch to something with a little more finesse, ..and to let my lower back heal up. Funny how after fishing constantly for weeks straight, I can still dig into the closet and dust off unused gear. I switch out the huge boxes filled with dozens of flies for tiny boxes filled with hundreds of flies. Toss out the bulk spool of 15lbs XT Trilene and grab a handful of small spools with sizes that end in “X”. Find that brand new three weight line I forgot I bought at the end of last season and try to get my mindset away from Bill Dance style hooksets.
First stop…northern AZ.