The Tug is the Drug...

It's 3:43 am and you are up. Wide awake, staring at an alarm clock that is set to go off in 2 minutes and wondering, "What the hell is the matter with me?" Nevermind. There's no time for self-reflection.

Into the already packed car with coffee in hand, you hit the road and arrive at the parking lot before the sun is even thinking about rising. That's right, you just drove 180 miles and got to the water early enough to require a headlamp to find the trail. You smile to yourself and joke to your buddy about just how ridiculous that little fact is before your thought from earlier in the morning pops into your head again. "What the hell is the matter with me?" Nevermind. You'll have a long, dark ride home to discuss your mental deficiencies with exactly the wrong person; the guy who is just as sick as you are.

First car in the lot, last car to leave. Skip lunch because you were in such a rush to get to the water that you didn't have time to smear peanut butter and jelly on a piece of bread. It's the same routine, no matter where you go. Steelhead season is long, but the good part is really quite short. Who wants to waste time with trivial tasks such as eating and sleeping?

Stepping into the run, you notice a few headlamps bobbing up the bank. "Poor suckers." "They probably think they are going to get this run." A quick blink of your own headlamp and the approaching lights suddenly about face and head a different direction. You imagine the words being thrown around by the headlamp wearers downstream and chuckle to yourself. Pulling line off the reel, you scan the water for rolling fish and begin the familiar ritual of cast, mend, swing and step that you have done a thousand times before.

It's still somewhat dark when you have the first tug. "I hate short strikes." You think to yourself, but experience has taught you to leave the fly in the water and on "the dangle." Just as you begin to step downstream, you feel the fly fishing equivalent of being hit by a speeding train. In a flash, your line has come tight and two feet of chrome-covered muscle is trying it's hardest to get back to the lake. Line is ripping off, water is splashing and you are giggling like a 6 year old who ate a hundred chocolate bars. Suddenly it all makes sense. This is exactly what you came for; to have the living shit scared out of you by a fish before most people are even reaching for the snooze button.

For me, this is what it's all about. If you haven't gone out and gotten your arm yanked yet, now is the time. Great reports came in from everywhere this weekend, the leaves should be flushing out with the next rain and crowds will decrease as the temperature does. Go out and get some. We are...