9 Days

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The Beast

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I called out for a killer I looked for a knife I drank from this river It ruined my life I saw him comin' at me Empty and so cold I never knew emotion Till he caught me in his fold Part III; Last Days It doesn't take much to change the entire mood, outlook, perception of a trip. We've all been on either side of the tracks at one time or another, the beneficiary or victim to a minor shift in events that starts gaining momentum, for better or worse. Averaging less than one fish per four angler-days, our once bright armor was starting to show the wear and tear of frustration. Sure, we were having fun. To this point, it was a very successful vacation. It's hard to complain whenever you can do what you love for an extended period. In terms of an overall angling experience however, we were rapidly approaching failure mode. Hitting morning thruway-rush-hour at Rochester, approaching Syracuse, and then turning north, I wondered how much gas I had left. By the time the first Exi...
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Fishy Trout?

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Drums Along the Mohawk: Redux

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