The next morning is brutally cold. Our water outside the tent is frozen, along with my toes. After taking our time getting up and breaking camp we decide to head back down the stream. Walking across the mountains hoping to run into the trail does not seem like the best plan of action.
We make our way back and fish along the way. The water was low, and I was teaching my friends how to fish for the first time, but we pulled out a couple pretty natives. One of my friends ca
ught the first one, his first ever on a fly rod, and was pretty stoked about it. I was showing my other friend how to cast and put it in a certain spot, and right as I laid it down my hare's ear disappeared in the mouth of a Brookie.
As we finally hit the gravel trail and make it to the end, we see another trail crossing the stream. Upon further inspection we see a cement pole right in front of us that says, "Furnace Mountain Trail" in little letters. It was literally 50 yards from where I parked my truck. We couldn't believe it, but we kind of could. In my life I have learned that one word describes things that happen to me on a regular basis; typical. That's all I could say as we headed back to my truck
feeling satisfied that we blazed our own trail for a day, and only a little embarassed that we never set foot on our intended path. But hey, that's how life goes sometimes.
ught the first one, his first ever on a fly rod, and was pretty stoked about it. I was showing my other friend how to cast and put it in a certain spot, and right as I laid it down my hare's ear disappeared in the mouth of a Brookie. "And that's how it's done," I said in a teacher/student way trying to hide the 
'did that just happen' look on my face. "Someday you will learn grasshopper."
'did that just happen' look on my face. "Someday you will learn grasshopper."As we finally hit the gravel trail and make it to the end, we see another trail crossing the stream. Upon further inspection we see a cement pole right in front of us that says, "Furnace Mountain Trail" in little letters. It was literally 50 yards from where I parked my truck. We couldn't believe it, but we kind of could. In my life I have learned that one word describes things that happen to me on a regular basis; typical. That's all I could say as we headed back to my truck
feeling satisfied that we blazed our own trail for a day, and only a little embarassed that we never set foot on our intended path. But hey, that's how life goes sometimes. 
1 comment:
Satisfying trout my man. Looks like they were worth the work.
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