Earlier this week I commandeered another long lunch and hit a local stream, where air temperatures hit the lower 90s, which to me always feels like the air's vibrating a little.
The water was still in the mid-50s so the trout were fine, but it seems I turn into a massive fish-handling wussy when it gets hot, and the trout generally don't get un-wetted unless absolutely necessary.
Which is why all I've got to show for the half-dozen trout I caught is a post-fish photo taken after
the release of The Big Trout Of The Trip -- a raging 8" rainbow. Imagine the fish in all this...
I'm not a fan of hot weather. In fact, exposing pasty old me to the full sun is a lot like accidentally leaving a spoon in the microwave; you're pretty much guaranteed a lot of commotion and perhaps a little pain.
That's why -- when temperatures rise into the 90s -- it's probably not a bad time to recline in the downstairs office. I freeze my ass off down there all winter, so taking advantage of the meat locker effect in the summer seems like simple thermal karma.
And no, I won't go into the usual histrionics about needing to fish or developing a tic or "aching" to get out on the water beyond saying this: After the past couple of hectic weeks, it was a nice break.
Consider it a reminder of sorts that life still exists outside the New Kid Bubble.
It was also a reminder that the 7.5' 4wt Beasley-built Perfectionist remains an astonishingly pleasurable fly rod to cast and fish, and the fact a fly rod makes you happy is probably the best reason for picking a rod tube out of the rack on the way out the door.
I don't know what the next weeks hold, but M2 is turning out to be an incredibly sweet kid (Little M is not exactly dealing with the introduction of a competitor all that well, but we're seeing signs of acceptance [or resignation] creeping in).
In the meantime, I'm working mainly during naps and at night, which is not exactly a prescription for clear eyes or an epic sense of humour or even the ability to write coherently.
Which probably explains large portions of this post.
See you on the river, Tom Chandler.