I am not a Steelheader

I am not a Steelheader

I have been to the river. I have stood and cast the thousand casts with the repetitive determination of one who knows that his time will come.

I have hooked fish. I have seen fish hooked. I have watched nickel-bright slabs cartwheel and surge and scream about the river. I have brought the Steel to hand.

And yet I did not leave the river with regret. I did not spend the ride home plotting the next trip. I am not fully distracted in my daily activities by the replaying of Steelhead moments on an endless loop in the screening room of my brain. I have no plans to return to the river.

I am not a Steelheader.

And yet I find myself still tying flies like these. What can it mean?

Steel Stone