I got out of my truck, laid out the Simms taco bag, slipped on my waders, rigged up my rod, and selected the weapons of choice. Now it was time to hike toward the stream. With each step the anticipation built. It had been quite a long time since I’d been able to step foot on a stream. But that was to change today. Upon reaching the crystal-clear, spring creek perfection of a stream, everything stood still for a second and I looked up into the sky at that moment. I then was gazing at a majestic bald eagle directly above me and watched him hesitate for that second, give a shake to his tailfeather, then proceed down his glided path. It was at that moment that I realized I finally made it home.
The first step in the stream felt almost like baptism, a transformation internally and externally, being surrounded by nothing but extreme quietness, solitude, beauty, and connectedness with the Creator.
Now it was time to fish.