A journey up the inlet in search of a place to stand. Cold snow melt still flowing in.
Throwing a muddler in all the old familiar places.
Not many hits or follows. Only two hungry trout come up through the waves to get a taste.
You get way around the north lake shoreline. Just when you think the wind might be dying down it kicks up again with a vengeance.
But you kick right back for home. You troll a bead head nymph and expect some fish, but no, the muddler worked better than that.
Back safe and sound. As you lie in bed that night you can still feel yourself going up and down, up and down...