Back To Reality

... damnit. Another few days of that would have been really nice. Not sure I can afford another couple days of bar tabs like that though - hot damn did I drink a lot. Whiskey will be the death of me.

I did get to spend Saturday on the water; not on the Clinch but on some smaller mountain streams in beautiful Smokey Mountain National Park. The water there is clear as a Sapphire and Tonic, the fish are wild and skittish. Catch and release only, naturally. It is as close to "pure" fly fishing as one can get and presents quite an enjoyable challenge to those willing to learn. Though the fish are small compared to many bigger waters, catching them holds its own reward - and there are some big Browns hiding in places, though few ever catch them.

It's a very different environment than I'm used to. Instead of meandering through a high mountain hay meadow, these creeks cascade rapidly down narrow canyons, choked on either side by brush and trees waiting to entangle your fly on a careless back cast. I was glad to have the 9' 5 weight that my dad built on a Sage blank, as its stiff backbone makes roll- and side-casting a breeze compared to smaller rods. Still looking into getting a dedicated Smokeys rod. I'm thinking a 7'6" 4 weight will do the trick nicely - maneuverability being the objective there. Perhaps I can pressure my dad into building me one, as I'd much prefer that to something factory-built. It will certainly cost me a very nice bottle of single malt, however.

Well look at me getting all poetic here... must be the exhaustion catching up with me. My drive back was actually fairly pleasant, much nicer than my usual I-95 hatefest going to/from New York. If you've never driven I-40, there's 30-40 mile stretch (if that) which crosses the NC/TN border and the Smokey Mountains. It is damn hilly and windy, though not quite like the famous Dragon which parallels it approximately 20 miles to the south (note to self: take the detour next time). Anyway, I'm fairly certain that I never dropped below 75 mph for that whole stretch, even with traffic. I was watching my G-meter (yes, my car has a G-meter, suck it) and I never even broke .60... I'm convinced that, under ideal conditions, this road can be done at speeds of no less than 90 mph. Conservatively. For the record, I've gotten the meter to nearly double the aforementioned number - 1.15g is my best, or at least the best when my retinas weren't in the process of detaching, thereby preventing me from reading said gauge. I do love the twisty roads.

My clock informs me that I have work in approximately seven hours. Suppose I had better have one last Fat Tire, fold my laundry and get some rest. Cheers.