Warm, late afternoons in August throwing hoppers against a cut-bank to waiting browns.
So many caddis swarming around you it feels like it's snowing.
That fist gulp of a cold beer out of the cooler when you get back to the truck.
When the cast feels just right and the fly lands exactly where you want it to.
Seeing the strike indicator sink when drifting a Hare's Ear on a slow fishing day.
you?
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