Feeling small with Ben Paull...
After a few days of floating rivers and swinging flies in the Olympic Peninsula, Ben Paull and I hit the road in a desperate attempt to make the last Port Townsend ferry. As a traveling angler spending all daylight hours on the river, I always find it odd that I miss the sights of the open road while driving at night. We made the ferry with a few minutes to spare and I spent a good portion of the crossing staring out into the dark void of the salt. A few hours of driving later, we drove through Concrete, Washington. Having grown up in a town known for concrete, I found it ironic to be passing by the old remnants of a plant with a giant sign saying, "Welcome to Concrete". Around midnight, we arrived at a beautiful steelhead themed AirBnb, that we immediately checked out of the following morning. What followed was a magic carpet ride through the Cascade mountains and the rivers that converge off of their slopes. I felt small surrounded by the snow capped peaks and standing in the fast flows of the river. I didn't have a grab over three days of fishing, which made me reflect heavily on my efforts. Ben hooked and fought a large hen that threw the hook just when all the cards seemed to be in his favor. On the final day, spring time popped. We awoke to green leaves budding in the trees, dense fog, and a fresh coating of snow in the higher altitudes. It was a sight to see...
