I had just threaded my line through the guides, attached a fly to my tippet, and was ready to cast when the uninvited fisherman emerged from the curtain of alders near the river’s bend. In a rushed act of desperate deceit, I hooked the fly to one of the rod’s guides, tightened the line around the reel and walked casually downstream, toward the man and away from The Spot. Fortunately, I hadn’t begun to fish in what I—and only I—know is the best spot on the river . . .
Please check out my recent essay over at The Backcountry Journal.