Sitting on the deck of the hotel/fly shop under 400 billion stars, telling stories of the day’s fishing. Strangers and friends remembered trips from the past, and planned future trips, while night bugs buzzed the dim light of the lantern’s glow. Strong, cold drinks cooled our hands, and fueled the audience, as cigar smoke gently wafted by… We were in Montana, and there were mountains.
Montana (Photo credit: Space Ritual)
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About urbangrizzly
I am presently working on a project title "Fishing Memoirs" that feature true, but slightly embellished... okay, embellished stories of a decades worth of fishing adventure with my father-in-law. All (most) of the embellishments are in reference to the number, size, weather, duration, and skill of my own fishing abilities, and in no way should they be associated with my fishing partner; Trout-Master Jim.
