Travel Log: The Last Fly
March 29, 2011. (3:09 a.m.)
It’s 3 am and, finally, all the reels are spooled, rods packed, and flies tied.
This last is an act of toil for me now, but it wasn’t always so. Mostly it’s to do with the pressure and the fact that I always procrastinate this particular aspect of preparing for a trip. It used to be that my tying abilities were so poor (and slow) that I had to start early just to make sure I had any flies to fish with at all. But now that I can tie with greater ease—don’t think I’m calling myself an actual fly tier here—I can cram them all into a last minute blitz on the vise and still come off with enough to get by.
I guess that’s a long way of saying I pine for the old days—those days when the buzz of a new trip was enough to keep me home at nights tying till the wee hours, cramming box after box with whatever the guides call for and a few too many experiments besides. I miss the past trips where I might have still been up at 3 am, but it was from excitement, not because I only just finished whip-finishing the last weed-guard onto the last fly about 3 minutes ago.
Man, 5 am is going to come early.