The Tar Heel Outdoorsman

 It's truly a land held in by water, these inner islands and peninsulas and lowlands of Northeastern North Carolina. Through Creswell and across the Albemarle.  Past Hertford and over the Perquimans.  Around Elizabeth City and over the Pasquotank.  Into Virginia, and then across the Northwest River, followed by the North Landing River.  Down the narrow peninsula with Back Bay and Virginia's outer banks to the East.  Back down, across the border again, rolling down NC 615, through Mackay Island National Wildlife Refuge, and onto Knotts Island, jutting out into the Currituck Sound.  We are there.  Well, we got there, but a day early.   ...

The week truly began a day early.  Not Sunday the 18th, but Saturday the 17th. Opening day of the final split of duck season.

Thanks to graduate school applications, LSAT studying, other so-called "real world" commitments, and an interruption from Hurricane Matthew,  the fall hasn't yielded quite as much time in the woods or on the water as I would've liked.  But I have fit in a few trips.  Don't you worry.   ...

The attention that I've paid to this thing has been nonexistent since May. May was when I drove out to Wyoming to work as a fishing guide at A Bar A Ranch in southern Wyoming.  May was the last time I wrote something on here, and honestly, I haven't really got a good excuse.   But it sure is damn hard to spend time typing when you could be out on the water.   ...

Things start where they often do.  The truck.   Throw the kayak in there, since the skiff's in the shop, and stick the 8 weight through the sliding back window.  Grab your flies and a water bottle.  Paddle and a life jacket too.  Good to go.

Good times on the lake and in the woods.... unfortunately no gobblers and a few stuck trucks, but a great weekend nonetheless. Through the cypress

Numb fingers, stiff joints, struggling to get that tiny tippet through the eye of the hook.   Cold fingers, cold fly line running through, past your index and middle finger. Shivering legs, the long underwear and flannel and jeans aren't enough.   Cold, rosy cheeks, the wind funneling past.   The cold seeps through.

Sometimes that's what we are asked…