My last trip is in the books for 2017. It is done for the year. I won’t have another chance to wade, mid-calf deep, across a broad flat, of sand or turtle grass or broken coral, looking for bonefish silhouettes slipping silently through wind and tide disturbed water.
That’s a little bleak.
It got me thinking about what I like about it, about bonefishing. I got to thinking about what stirs my soul about these fish.
I love being there.
I love the gear. The flies I’ve tied. The leaders I’ve put together. The knots I’ve tied.
I love the act of searching, not as much as the instant of recognition, but I love the looking.
I love that moment when you realize it is all going to come together. You are going to get a shot. You can’t think about it. You have to act. You have to make it happen.
You get to see the eat. You get to see the fish light up. You can tell, from 50′ that the fish is going to eat you fly.
That little capsule of preparation and skill and luck and action… that is why I love bonefishing.
I’ll see you again, bonefish. Here’s to fishing trips to come.