So we traveled back in time. Nintendo parties and keg beer after brunches helped us pass the time. Fun was had (at times, too much), but it's no substitute for fooling trout.
But this weekend, we shall ambush the lower Madison River (the Beaverhead being dirty with valley snow-melt and the Big Hole, ice), replete with winter flows and rainbow trout, full of pent-up drifts and hook-sets. I picture us crushing the speed limits to get to the access, then sprinting to the banks, angrily screaming and false casting all the while. This is when I know I have viking ancestry.
Chores need doing, words need writing, and plans need planning, but not this weekend. Listen for our battle cry.