Without a doubt there’s nothing quite like stealing an hour or two on your ‘home water’.
For some fishers ‘home water’ is that eminently fishable creek or pond right in the neighborhood that no one writes about – hell, maybe no one even talks about it. But it’s good for a few palm-sized brookies, browns or panfish and serves as a ready distraction from the crap that life occasionally slings your way.
Home waters can indeed be the fly fishers security blanket (and I’m missing a little Gallatin stretch in the canyon mightily right now), though I have to admit I love exploring new waters and places.
Yesterday afternoon the sun came out right about the time I found myself getting pissed off at unpacking and trying to shuffle boxes around a garage that’s just half a car width too narrow.
Suddenly I found myself headed north on I-5, turning northwest over the Tacoma Narrows bridge and cruising through Gig Harbor on the way to the eastern side of the OP and the drive down the Hood Canal.
So much new water.
Hot damn.
