Growing up, I was not a morning person.
In fact, it took me quite a long time to really appreciate mornings. Fishing trips were one of the things I would happily rise early for, and still do to this day. Work and other things, eh, maybe not so much.
It’s in the foggy headed feeling you have before the coffee kicks in at 5:00am. The slow chatter amongst the guys in the car, and knowing that everyone is as groggy as you are. Seeing that first twinge of light above the mountains as dawn nears. It’s pulling up at the river and it still being dark enough to make the pictures shaky as everyone gears up for the day.
Standing in a river as the sun rises is one of the most peaceful and quiet things I have ever experienced. The world is still. There is no (or very little) road noise, the air is heavy and cold, and everything just seems closer and more intimate in the growing light. It’s mornings like that, standing knee deep in cold river, listening and watching and taking it all in, that make me glad I’m a fisherman.
Recently, buddies Shane, Mike and I made a trip to the Upper Madison between the lakes. Little did I realize at the time, but this would be one of the last times Shane and I would get a chance to fish together before he moved to Michigan last Friday. It was a successful trip, and Shane wrote about it earlier this month. That morning was one of those I write about today. Peaceful. Quiet. The pink light of dawn making the water glow an hour before sunlight actually reached us.
The only sound breaking the silence was Mike catching whitefish.
Mornings like that are full of promise. The day could be anything at that point. But don’t bother worrying about what kind of day it will be. Just stop and enjoy the moment. It’s something pretty special.
