Ten and two, ten and two, and… release…
The line flies through the air, gracefully arcing under the tree branches. The fly lands, floating lightly on top as it should. A quick mend of the line, and I wait.
The cut under the bank is still. Too damn still. I know there is a big trout in there. I have been stalking him for the last 40 minutes. No caddis, no nymphs, no copper ants, nothing is appealing to this freshwater monster.
Yet again, I drag the anchor, setting the boat in motion, in search of a more gullible fish.