Showing posts with label fly fishing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fly fishing. Show all posts

Sunday Float




He is connectedh wildnerrness is a transparency clearer than truth.


Early spring finds the woodsman back in his country. his heart laden with gratitude, soul nourished by immeasurable reverence, likely a product of his rich, ancestral ties to this piece of primitive wilderness his people have worked through generations. Realizing early on, their efforts to tame the landscape were in vain. The only proven way to coexist within the harsh landscape was a symbiotic relationship, one of slightly skewed proportion. The woodsman learned early that giving back more to the woods than was taken was paramount to the regenerative cycle of his world. Through endless, keen observation, patterns emerged, further deepening his understanding and reliance upon the rythyms hallmark to the natural world. 

  .  of Habitual in spirt, akin to the creatures inhabiting his wilderness. Each, freshly extracted from the wrath of a Great Lakes Winter. 

His initial saunter is not one of aimless wandering. This is purposeful, instinct-driven business. one Laden with sheer will and dogged determination. The snow on his northern exposed hillsides has mostly turned to water, freshening up the spate creek bed that meanders slowly through bottom, lined with apple trees, sprinkled with young Spruce and Alder, interspersed with thick, seemingly ancient wild grapevines, reaching skyward to the canopy.   and   and crags wind gently swings in from the southpreparatory ritual ensues, for the hardscrabble farmer inherently knows, preparations for the gales of November have already begun. This reliance upon cyclical, natural forces, of relative cadence conspire, initiating hallmark events, spurring the woodsman into action.


Hardscrabble travelers first loop with be the borders of his pastures, some fallow, some fertile. Regardless, the woodsman is thorough and works tirelessly, ensuring any and all fences compromised over the ruthless winter are made contiguous, once again.
 wilderness greets the steward communicating directly with his senses, namely through olfactory hues, as old as time itself. Upon arrival, A vast catalog, painstakingly procured, categorized and compartmentalized, a process initiated the moment his being was thrust through the veil and into existence.



 As the first drip of snow transforms into water and rolls down the northerly exposed hillside a foot flushed woodcock rockets from the alder tangle and corkscrews its way back up the hillside, banking hard to the left, as it lights in low, landing in a stand of Hawthorn. 

 have already been long underway.


merged where gratitude prevails.  

emerge 
The relationship with wilderness is reverence. 

A perpetual gift bestowed upon himself, and his pof eople as they 

The damp forest floor was blanketed in Club Moss, covered with the remenents of Autumn decidious leaf-litter consisting of Grey and white birch, Beach, Poplar and Crab Apple leaves, all in a state of decay and doing a fine job feeding the land.   Bir with  rises up on a thermal over the rivers surface, the ancient fragrance strikes a primitive cord in the adventurer. Pausing briefly in reflection, the woodsman realization overcome with emotionausing briefly, he reflecting 

 senses that were shaped by decades in forest. An

intoxicating, primitive stimuli, ancient in origin with dignified an d admirable purpose. Striking the primitive cord of man, symbolizes rebirth and

Upper Delaware River

I surmise you have to do something in the off season other than field work with setters. Like so many others, I choose to fly fish. It seems as if fly fishing, double guns and upland hunting are synonymous within the tangled web we weave.