|Photo Credit: Bill Gregory|
I've been downsized.
After weeks of slingin' aggressive saltwater tapers with broomstick-fast eights, twitching my whippy little 4wt once again is, shall we say, interesting. But, like riding a bike, it comes back quickly, though the off hand feels left out with no hauling to do. Sorry, friend, your job is no longer required.
Surprisingly, the hardest thing is remembering to clear the backcast. There's no sycamores, no rhodos, on the flats. No tight quarters. I am reminded, occasionally, and get personal with the flora.
My fishing world shrinks from the horizon to a mere thirty feet.
Downsized, in a good way.