fichy
I keep seeing ghosts as I fish.
Boy, can I relate to that. The only places I can go without being pursued by these memories is where I have basically always fished alone in the 'daks, and new water. Trout fishing in western NY brings memories of long evening hatch and spinner fall trips with Leigh Condit, who also looks over my shoulder every time I hike into the Genesee. And the Salmon River brings memories of Keith Smith, one of the finest anglers and guides ever on the river, and a fine human being. I know 2B gets a double dose as he knew Gary Johnson quite well, I only got to fish with Gary a couple of times as I was working and in night school during his prime time on the river. And, although as far as I know he is still alive, I'm always reminded of the great times with the Moose, even if we did not fish together much because he was always taxiing clients when we were staying with him over at Sportsman's. I have heard that a past affinity for Mexican worms and the accumulated stresses of running a McKenzie for so many years while guiding, and then the fight on the Oak for what he thought were the same free enterprise rights as are afforded to connected ex-politicians on the Salmon have kept him in warmer climes. But he still haunts the Bovines every fall.
It is only going to get worse, until we'll be out there guarding the secret spots.
L13