Fishing the Box

Made it over to the box tonight, first time out for the year. Ben and I got our stuff loaded in the truck and headed down. There was a small drizzle in the air as we drove down to the launch site at the start of the box canyon. Getting out of the truck and walking down to the river I noticed a new pad for boats to launch on. Looking around I could feel a sense of belonging, this country feels so much like home. While I always want to feel the tip of my fishing pole dance with excitement I had an even greater desire that Ben feel that rush. I new nothing was going to stop this small trip from giving me that much needed break. For the next three hours we tried streamers and nymphs in several combinations but to no avail. In my quest to land just one fish I put myself in a very difficult position. Crossing the river I found myself in water to deep and way to swift. Why do I put myself in these position? To far out to turn back and wondering if I can make it the rest of the way. Forging on I carefully made it to my destination. Now, how do I get back? Taking advantage of my position on the river I try each hole and run but to no avail. There will be no dance tonight. During the next 20 minutes I made my way up a step mountain wondering if I was going to startle a bear, run into a wolf or have a heart attack from the climb. One more lesson learned and one more journal entry. Life is good.