Older Bro and I finally fished a small stream -- one we
meant to explore for the last two years, but remained a blue line on a map until today.
Sore legs. Small fish. It's perfect.
It's gorgeous. But it lacked water (it's been a terrible snow year). The fish were small, even by small stream standards.
And when we weren't climbing over trees, we were sliding down bluffs, or crawling over boulders, or endlessly rock hopping.
My legs are sore already. Which means they'll be really sore tomorrow (anticipation isn't always our friend).
More as I get a chance to write it.
See you at the Ibuprofen bottle, Tom Chandler.