The Perfect Place -by Clay Gill

Cabin fever can make you delirious! Surface water temperatures have dipped as low as they get all year. Snow just dusted the Texas Hill Country last week and fishing in general is on hold for a few weeks. Texans are not accustomed to any extended chilly weather. Normally, we fish each month of the year with some adjustment. Down time is usually a matter of weeks or days in the south. Thank goodness for this favor. We are not prepared for an ice-over. Tying flies and looking outside is growing old quickly for many people right now. You get that itch to go.

We sat around the fire the other day as a slow cold rain fell and daydreamed of “the perfect place” for fly-fishing. Would it be Roosterfish in Mexico, Peacock Bass in South America, or Permit in the keys? Imaginations ran wild, as destinations became more exotic and alluring. As brainstorming subsided one thing was clear! We were ready to bust out. Like Wolf Brand Chili, it had been too long since we had some. The gear, seasons and travel are just excuses. The getaway is the big payoff. Once you have been there, nothing else will do. Normal patience is too insufficient for this.

Being truthful, the reason to be out is actually the need to get under that big blue sky. The main attraction is the amazing sunrises, blazing sunsets, and huge powerful storms you just can’t stop watching. These marvels put you in perspective. You feel small and insignificant in comparison, but lucky to be a part of it all.

The witness of migratory Geese and Ducks, fish jumping into the air across an entire lake, or the magnificent animal and plant colors and patterns, -all these things in combination become what we seek. It is just that simple. Fishing does become a big part of it all. Mans own creations pale in comparison to a Roseate Spoonbill or Gull as you glide in awe over the flats at the coast. We really miss these things in February when north winds howl. You yearn for trees to bud and flowers to bloom.

All things seem to come together outdoors, and galvanize in a portrait of creation more powerful and amazing than anything man could conjure or build. The magnitude of it all, recognized, is a renewal of your spirit and soul. Too many of us have lost sight of the slow and peaceful life. The city pace is a tough addiction.

We seek outdoors for recreation now unlike our ancient ancestors who gathered for survival. Not a chore as it once was, the modern version has evolved into an escape mechanism of sorts from our busy lives. We now retreat to the water and woods in swelling numbers from hectic urban lives. The solitude and solace of quiet places lend welcome rejuvenation. This becomes what we seek. Sport is the tool we use to get there. Peace and solitude become the destination. Once on the way, the big city always looks best in the rear view mirror. Stars are much better than neon lights. Try them over a campfire and sing some songs. Hear what the Coyotes have to say. Life is too short not to. You will never see a bigger smile on a child’s face out there.

After our cabin fever spiked, we came to our senses. A majority vote for the “perfect place” was unanimous. The “perfect place” was anywhere you indulge in that glorious escape we call the outdoors. The next motion was to hasten back there quickly. Yes-just as soon as our cabin fever breaks and that old sun warms things up.

I can hear those song dogs now as they greet the full moon to the east as the wood smoke curls through trees near the water, --oh can’t wait any more, common-lets go!

Tight lines to you and hang in there-it won’t be long now!