Thursday, July 26, 2007

In the darkest hour of the brightest night

A midnight in June. I recall it in vivid fragments.

The cold moistness of wet hands, the roar of powerful rapids above, and the silvery water, full of tiny air bubbles, flowing rapidly in a strong run.

They are background for the real show.

Heart stops beating when a trout—a big one, it is no place for small trout—rockets out of the strongest current straight up, turns in the air and descents back into the water. Heart beats again. Fast. A moment later it happens again, then another fish, and another, and then the biggest and stoutest of all. They are perfect.

It lasted about 30 minutes.


It lasted a lifetime.


The Mad Fishicist said...


Anonymous said...

And writing like that lasts much, much longer than the time it takes to read it.

Anonymous said...

Seeing that many beautiful trout leaping out of the water would be a sight in and of itself.