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Quietly seated in natures amphitheater with a melody of rustling leaves and the rivers descending cadence lent a perspective to a watershed I'd not felt. It's legendary steelhead I'd experienced, yet this resources shear majestic qualities, scope and grand theater these threatened fish run through came to fruition on those solitary afternoon strolls. It as then I grew to understand the magnitude of this impressionable place.
The last time I cast a fly under the Dean Rivers towering canyon walls, heard the shimmer of its century old cottonwoods, felt its glacially fed currents or the chaotic nature of its powerful piscatorial travelers was over a decade ago. I still endure a vivid almost surreal recollection of those days. My departing view from the small Cesna that took me away from such grandeur was painful knowing I may never again have the opportunity to return. As time passed, those notions seem to be playing out.
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I have always felt incredibly grateful for those early opportunities to fish the Dean. However, this visit will be even more meaningful given the years that have transpired since my last trip regardless of the fishing. Being a steelheader, to have the opportunity to fish such great waters is all one should ask. That in and of itself is enough.
4 comments:
I really enjoyed that post.Very interesting...
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thank you for sharing and l like to read it .
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Thank you. Glad you enjoyed the posts. Wish I had more time to do more, but I'm more interested in content than number of posts.
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