Finally. . .

I arrived at the river a bit later than I would of liked, but the parking lot was surprisingly sparse of other vehicles. The drive to my local river seemed like an eternity as months of anticipation were soon to be realized.

After suiting up in record time and making my way to the nearest river access point, it became clear why there weren't more fellow fisherman around. The river was still raging. I was not at all surprised, as I had been watching the hydrometer, the weather, and studying it with each overpass all week.

The river's current state did not matter to me. The only thing that mattered was that I was finally fishing. The silly grin that is reserved only for those special fishing moments returned, and a part of my being that has been absent for the past 80 days was awakened from its slumber. Today, my finned friends were tucked safely out of reach, and took comfort in the opaqueness of rich Irish Cream. As the sun reached its apex I thought it was time to leave her for another day, and it was then that one of my friends came to greet me and welcome me back.