The clock says 2:00. In the morning. The clock's tick keeps on ticking and all you can do is think. Your mind's way too active and you try to force yourself to sleep but you can't. And even though you aren't going fishing in the hours that will soon unfold, you're thinking about fishing. You're tired, you need sleep, but your brain doesn't seem care. You're thinking about hauling through the salt marsh, running in just inches of water, weaving your skiff through the creeks like a rally car driver on a dirt track.
Fly Fishing, Waterfowling, and Wandering the Old North State and Elsewhere