The more time I spend on the water, the more I get it. Even though I’m standing there with a fly rod in hand, its the total immersion into the environment that impresses upon me the essence of why I’m there.

After pulling on the rope to start up my faithful 25 HP outboard a simple twist of the tiller washes away the daily grind of the day job and my soul is set free to roam unabated.

I used to think these adventures were about stalking and catching fish. Now I simply let it happen along the periphery of the overall adventure and where it might lead.

I always have my head on swivel, searching for the next target that happens to be swimming by, but it is the macro view of the environment that brings the most joy.

I’ve seen a bobcat standing some 20 feet away along the mangrove sprinkled shoreline as curious and startled by my presence as I am of it. I’ve watched in awe as a bobcat swam between two islands carefully watching me as I passed by on plane, gawking.

The myriad of shore birds that ignore my presence as I slide by silently until I’m within a stone’s throw give me pause.

Seeing the ground appear to move as hundreds of fiddler crabs retreat from the waters edge in unison mesmerizes me.

I cherish this thing we call fly fishing. Not because of the fish I’ll hold for a moment or two to admire, but for the experiences that will form my fondest memories, for it is every time I go forth, I reinforce the notion that anything happens, everyday.