Sanity. Losing it rapidly.

In my daydreams, I am an awesome roll caster. The rod accelerates in just the right manner that I can shoot thirty or forty feet of line with ease placing the fly in the intended spot with just enough slack that I get the perfect drift to a pod of rising trout.

I'm good at this cast because I've fished one particular spot so many times in my daydreams that I've had much practice. I've learned from my mistakes -- accelerating the rod tip at the wrong time, not getting the line properly set-up at the beginning of the cast. I've also learned to overweight by one line size to get optimum performance from my favorite five weight rod. You get the idea. I'm no longer making rookie mistakes.



This particular spot that I fish so often in my daydreams is a large pool on a mid-sized river that has no room to backcast on account of the high bank and overhanging brush. Early on, I spent a lot of time untangling imaginary flies from those bushes but I've mastered both the approach to the ideal casting spot and the cast itself.

I am a master of the roll cast.

In my dreams.

Can you tell I've been spending too much time at work lately? Can you tell it's winter, the snow is deep and most small New England streams are locked with ice?

Jeez, Maybe I've gotta take up stealheading just to get out. This winter is driving me nuts. Or maybe it's the work. Or both.