That quiet little voice

You know what I’m talking about. The inner fisherman. You hear at various times. Mostly going to or on the river, but as often as not it pops up during the day attempting the mundane or efficiently conquering the plausible. It is an accumulation of things read, seen, heard and experienced. Its tidbits shared, nuggets gleaned from conversations. These are the things that make up the difference between and angler and a mere fisherman. Today, for me, its running a checklist. Tomorrow I go fishing. It’ll be one of the last nice days of fall before jack frost comes to crash the party. storms whip tailing about like drunken sailors on shore leave. In Eastern Idaho fall storms can be as severe as any, well let me take that back! What happened on the east coast last week was nothing to trifle with and I’m darn glad I was far far away, but I digress. Yellowstone closed Sunday so hunting for big post sexed brown trout on the Madison system is out. Im thinking about the lower Henry’s Fork, maybe the South Fork Snake, I haven’t decided. I’m really blessed with more water and rivers than I have time to fish. Its really crazy, I mean there are rivers, streams and creeks near me that would be considered top notch water in other areas of this country but because they wind their ways through the shadows of Yellowstone they are not even glanced at when surveying a map. Well thats going to change! I think this next year I am going to concentrate on hitting the less fished spots as much as I do on the henry’s fork.