the secret spot, upstream. A deeper pool, with a canopy of over hanging branches making casting/presentation difficult. The water races down from above stream into the pool and slows. I stand upon a narrow ledge, almost ready to vanish to rising waters. I work the water, dredging as best I can. The rod is darn near unmanageable to maneuver with all the over hanging branches snagging the tip, the line. I yield to the obstacles. Nature combines to thwart this man, in this remote spot. I turn to depart and there on the alder tree’s bark, someone has carved in ‘Fish’. Yes, probably quite true. Homage to a sanctuary I could not penetrate this day.
that is a sign you should return
I know, you’re right. I had to vacate before I lost sight of my footing in the rising waters. Deep pool, perfect hold for big fish. Just once you hook them the low hanging branches would preclude ever raising the rod…a horizontal presentation/struggle…so to speak.