The sound of that first paddle stroke at sunrise thunders deep in my core. I know with that sound where I am headed and that adventure lies ahead. The sound of the highway disappears as the shoal takes its place. I am where I need to be...on the river.
They say heaven has streets of gold but gravel bars and bluffs that rise from the flow and grand mountains are what I expect. You see, gold does not impress me unless it's meshed in to the skin of a trout, a smallmouth or even a red horse sucker...that is the gold that God placed for the true fisherman to admire. Not worth a penny to most but priceless in the wet hands of the right man as he banks memories to share with those with a like mind.
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At the end of the day, when the sound of the city takes over the river's music with the eagerness of a frightened herd of buffalos the kayak fisherman has his bag full of gold that will pay his fare until the next time he can float.
...thank God for little plastic boats.
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